One More Thing

Sabbath

2012-01-27T11:02:00.002-05:00

As I type this, it has been almost 72 hours since I touched a computer. That is unthinkable for most people today – and usually for me. I am most often constantly attached to this computer, whether physically or spiritually, as my mind is often focused on the news and opinions and information I may be missing out on when the computer is in the other room. I take pride in knowing I can seek and find the answer to any question in few careful keystrokes.

This week I was privileged to take part in a prayer retreat at the beautiful St. Mary of Providence Center in the rolling, farm-covered hills of southeastern Pennsylvania. It was the second year I participated in this event. It is a group event, but quite unstructured, so as to allow the participants to find the appropriate retreat for themselves.

As I did last year, upon arrival, I unpacked the few belonging I brought with me, some clothes, a number of books, my toothbrush – and then immediately emptied my pockets. The freedom of walking around with limited attachments is quite breathtaking. Especially important is the forsaking of my phone. I don’t get or make a lot of calls, but my phone serves as my timekeeper; I haven’t worn a watch in years. The act of leaving it beside my bed as I spent the next two days apart from it was both scary and hopeful.

I am a slave of the clock. I have had trouble ridding myself of this learned US obsession with time and efficiency. I always feel like I should be doing more and doing it faster. I am always aware of the next thing on the agenda and working to get to it faster. The whole idea is to build this mythical reserve of time, which never materializes. Rest is a non-existent motivation.

Retreat allows for rest. I intentionally spurn the clock. If I oversleep and miss a meal, it won’t kill me. If I get lost in prayer or reading, the time doesn’t matter. I have often stated that one of the main purposes for our corporate worship gatherings is for us to escape the business and constraints of the world. A retreat is designed, at least for me, to expand that escape to a long enough period of time that it feels like a lifestyle.

There was no computer; I took only two calls with my wife, short ones at that – she is wonderful in understanding the purpose of such a retreat – there was no real agenda. I participated in group sessions for sharing and prayer, but most of my effort was focused on simply forgetting the schedule.

As I returned home yesterday afternoon, I immediately turned on my computer – I am sure there is much to catch up on. As it began to boot and load, I realized that there was no immediate need to interact what that world just yet. I took the evening off to sit in the living room with my wife, watch some TV and gradually re-immerse myself into the world, the escape from which was so soothing to my soul.

It began to dawn on me that the purpose of retreat this year was not simply to escape the cycle of efficiency and business for two days, but perhaps to reimagine that very cycle in my own life. I was to bring retreat back to my world in some way. We cannot be completely disconnected from the cycle – it is an inherent part of life – but it can be managed and corralled with discipline, focus and intentionality.

So I write this entry before checking my email. I write it before checking the news of the week or the sports scores, before posting on a message board or playing a game. I find this almost too good to be true. Can I really engage differently with the world?

That, in and of itself, is the question of the gospel. If Jesus Christ came to show us a different way, is that really something that makes sense in a world that shapes and forms us for the opposite. I have banked my life on the idea that the answer is yes, now it is time to see how well that bears out in practice.

Across the Water

2011-05-29T14:55:00.000-04:00

Immigration is a bit more complex than the scripture verses people toss back and forth at one another - usually Romans 13 and various Hebraic codes from Deuteronomy and Leviticus. With any contemporary application of scripture, we have to remember that none of the writers of the Bible could ever have conceived of the issues with which we deal in our present time. There will always be a bit of interpretation. No verse is going to tell us specifically how to act.

I am not concerned with how the government handles immigration. I believe every government is free to make any law it sees fit. That is the benefit of power - the ability to control that over which you have power. It's exactly what Romans 13 is all about. I am concerned, however, about how Christians handle immigration and how we respond to laws of the land.

First, I don't think a Christian can, in good conscience, actively help undocumented immigrants cross a national border in violation of law. Now there is a big exception to that, specifically when the life and safety of people is concerned. Most nations do a poor job of recognizing and facilitating the immigration of asylum seekers and refugees. Christians should have a strong presence among these groups, treating them as valued and worthy people as opposed to the inconvenience they become to most nations.

Second, Christians have a responsibility to care about the problems and injustices which perpetuate immigration. Generally, people want to stay at home. If the opportunities (for safety, work, nutrition, love, and healthcare) available in the new country were available at home, there would be few immigrants. In most wealthy nations, peaceful foreign aid is a political tool and not a priority. Again there is great slack here which Christians can pick up and carry.

Third, and most controversially, is a Christian attitude towards immigrants in your own country. Most nations have a legal process of immigration and most immigrants who come through these processes are treated as any other resident of the nation. There are some problems with those who wish to retain the identity they've left behind, but if there is mutual respect and communication, these problems are not insurmountable.

Great contention arises for those immigrants who are unable to move through the proscribed process - those who immigrate in violation of law. God has always been clear about our treatment of others - we are to love. God specifically instructed Israel to treat foreigners in their midst exactly as they treat citizens. This is the crux of those Torah instructions so often quoted. Every person is God's creation and every person deserves the same treatment, no matter their place of birth.

What then, do we do with the seeming contradiction with Romans 13 - which tells us that God established the authorities over us and instructs us to submit and not rebel? What it means is that every authority is answerable to God for its execution of authority. We do not have a right to rebel, to overthrow, or undermine our government. Vigilantes, who take border enforcement into their own hands - whether fishing boats in the Mediterranean or militia groups in the Mojave - are not submitting to governing authorities.

This passage does not mean that civil authority is equivalent to moral authority. Breaking the law is not sin - not when it violates the authority of God's design for life in creation. Every Christian would violate the law if it outlawed worship of YHWH. Most would violate the law if it prevented them from feeding the hungry or clothing the exposed because of immigration status. Many would violate the law if it meant denying an undocumented immigrant the chance to work for a living. They do so because of their belief that every person is equal in God's eyes - and thus in ours as well. An argument from legality has no standing for Christians in light of an argument from morality.

I am not saying every Christian will understand their responsibility towards undocumented immigrants the same way - nor should we. There are different lines drawn based on conscience - but they must be drawn with grace. It pains me to see Christians assert their perspective as the correct view or to engage in "us and them" language. There may be more creative ways to supply jobs and education and we must work for them. Remember, treating the foreigner as you treat your own is secondary to the foreigner having their needs met at home. We must remember to do the first until the second is a reality.

Ultimately, however, I do not think our contention about immigration has much to do with immigration or law. It has everything to do with individual rights and liberty. Most opposition to immigration comes from those who feel it will cost them something - lower standard of living, lost employment, increased taxation, etc. These are legitimate human fears. They require a Christian response.

Christ challenged us to "deny ourselves" and to "take up our cross and follow" him. This means that the Christian is willing to give whatever is necessary to show love to others, even if it means our very lives. At times, following Romans 13 means sacrifice. Submitting to authorities often means willingly embracing the punishment required for disobedience. At times, following the Torah teaching on the treatment of foreigners means sacrifice.

Christians are told to thank God for the privilege of suffering for the gospel. It is rarely easy, but it is our ideal. As Saint Juniper put it as he met a beggar, "I have nothing to give you except my robe and my superior has told me under obedience not to give it or part of it to anyone. But if you pull it off my back, I certainly will not prevent you.”

For Christians, liberty is found only as we are enslaved to the God of love; rights are useful only to be given away. If our words and actions do not reflect unconditional love and self-sacrifice, they do not reflect Christ.

Sojourn

2011-05-18T10:26:00.001-04:00

I just finished Week 40 of my quest to read the bible from start to finish in a year. I've taken to reading the designated section weekly; it takes about an hour. Week 40, incidently, is the week when we move from Zechariah in the Hebrew Scriptures, to Matthew in the New Testament. I have intellectually understood the transition, but experienced it for the first time today. Many of us are familiar with the narrative - creation, covenant, Torah, monarchy, exile - however a large part of the Hebrew Scriptures are comprised of prophecy, of the people dealing with exile and God's promise of restoration. Isaiah through Malachi is eleven weeks, 20% of the year, with page after page of emotional pleading. Pleading with God to remember the covenant and restore the nation, and pleading with Israel to remember the covenant and return to obedience. Through the whole narrative is God's promise of redemption and restoration, but the overwhelming sense is yearning. Yearning for a world made right, a world as God intended it to be.

With that in mind, I finished Malachi and began reading Matthew. My anticipation was unbelievable. I knew that the time was upon us to see the promised redemption. I can only imagine how difficult it was for God's people to wait 400 years. Even as I am reading Matthew (this week ends following chapter 9), I know the ending, but I am now noticing that Matthew works up to his revelation. He calls Jesus Messiah in verse one, but the narrative clues people in slowly - probably because Jesus' details were a far cry from what the people expected.

I wonder how often we miss the sense of longing - as we live in a world being made right, but one still tremendously at odds with God's created purpose. Do we experience Christ as a joyous gift or as a past event? Everything in the Hebrew scriptures is about renewal and return, and Jesus is completely about resurrection and redemption. Have we given up on seeing our world transformed? Have we given up on the great hope Messiah brings?

I think it is important to find ourselves within the story and not at the end of it. Just because the narrative happened in the past does not mean it is finished. We relive these stories every day and its imperative to discover each twist and turn anew as we live them out in our various contexts. The story of God's work in the world is still unfolding - and we must embrace it recklessly.

Coersion

2011-05-02T09:57:00.004-04:00

I am a terrorist.

Fear is the most efficient motivator known to man. We like fear, love it, in fact - except of course when we're the ones afraid. Once we begin down the pathway of fear it's exponentially more difficult to stop, let alone change course.

This isn't strictly about violence, although it seems we're most afraid of pain, and threats of pain work out most efficiently. I say pain and not death because I don't actually think too many people are afraid of death, so long as it comes quickly and quietly. Death used to be humanity's ultimate fear.

Death was top dog because life was full of pain. Today we've mostly insulated ourselves from pain - by outsourcing our manual labor, by surrounding ourselves with mindless entertainment, by feasting on painkillers. We've created a world where the end of life has very little difference from the living of it.

Nuclear war is only terrifying for the people who live outside the blast zone, those who might have to suffer through the terror of cancer, deformities, and disease. Economic collapse means, for most of us, nothing but a lower standard of living - in other words, a more painful life.

I am a terrorist because I fear pain and I am willing to inflict it on others to avoid it in my own life. I keep a reserve account in a bank vault "in case" something inconvenient happens in my life, instead of giving that money to people who already suffer. I buy the cheapest products to maximize the amount I can spend on luxuries or minimize the amount I have to work - regardless of the suffering of those who make the products.

I am a terrorist, but I have outsourced my terror to strangers in far away places. If there's a murder on my street, its a breakdown of order; two is an epidemic. If there's ten murders downtown, I just stay in the suburbs. I pay my government to train one group of people to think they're super-human, so they can fly around the world and do brave things that insulate me from pain - at the same time I pay them to train another group of people to think they're sub-human, so they can be locked up and forgotten without any mark on my conscience.

I readily support the battle between "us" and "them," so long as I'm "us." When I become "them," the war is immoral.

Too often I participate in a story where the hero is Power and the villain is voiceless - which means the hero always wins. Too often I embrace the suicide of individualism for the promise of immediate gratification. I live in a world where pleasure comes only with the absence of pain. It works well for those who survive, but it seems like there should be some other way.

I am a terrorist.

What do I deserve?

Honesty

2011-05-02T07:26:00.005-04:00

It has apparently taken me two and a half years to be affected enough to write another blog post, but Osama bin Laden was killed last night. I have a lot of thoughts. It is a rare situation when people feel open to be completely honest. This is one of those. I appreciate the honesty of people to say, "I'm glad he's dead," and frankly I'd expect nothing less. I am also touched by those who've expressed their conflicted feelings about being happy. That sort of honesty takes courage. It only seems fair to be equally honest.

My first response to the news was awe that it actually happened. I, like a lot of people, felt bin Laden was going to die of old age. My second response was nervousness.

This death does indeed bring some closure to an unsettling experience that began with a terrible tragedy almost a decade ago. I am one of those whose life perspective has been shaped by dealing with 9/11 and its repercussions.

I was beginning my Junior year of college at ENC, just south of Boston. The planes took off from Boston. There were guys on my floor who, for a while, were worried their father was on one of them. A fellow student lost a father as he responded from his fire house to help evacuate the buildings. I was not disconnected from this tragedy. It was real. It felt personal.

Two years later God changed my life. The result was a shift, from preparation for a career in politics to enrolling in seminary and the process of preparing for ministry. My encounter with scripture profoundly changed my perspective on life. I found a gospel that demanded my full allegiance. It meant a departure from the story my culture was writing for me to participation in a story God has been writing since the beginning of time.

News I would have cheered in 2001 brings sorrow in 2011.

I say this with no affinity for Osama bin Laden. He dedicated his life and his considerable wealth to increasing fear in our world. Fear, which is directly counter to a gospel of love. In this case, I cannot think of a more appropriate word to describe his legacy than: evil.

That being said, Osama bin Laden was a beloved creation of God's and every death is tragic. We do not have the right to kill anyone, no matter how evil. Judgement belongs to the Lord.

There has been much talk of justice, when people really mean revenge. Justice would have been for bin Laden to express real remorse and for the victims of his aggression to express real forgiveness; justice would have been for us to create a society in which George W. Bush and Osama bin Laden could live in peace.

I am not so deluded as to think this is possible, short of a miraculous work of God. Yet that miraculous work is the vision of the future laid out in scripture. What else do the wolf and the lamb, the bear and calf, the child and the serpent represent than sworn enemies living in harmony?

The real issue today is not how we handle death and killing (you can read my previous blog entry for that), but how we respond to them. I take Jesus seriously when he says an "eye for an eye" no longer applies, but instead we're called to love our enemies. Even if one feels that killing is necessary at some point, it should be done with repentance and regret - never celebration.

I am sorrowful because I believe that celebrating death is destructive to people. We cannot control the emotions life brings out in us, but we must control our responses. Revenge feels good; we've made someone suffer in the way we've suffered. But revenge can never bring healing. It can never bring restoration. That comes from loving those who don't deserve to be loved. It comes from remembering that we are all, simultaneously, undeserving of the love we're shown and profoundly deserving of love.

God weeps for Osama bin Laden. I'm not sure I can muster that response, but I do weep for people who rejoice in death and I apologize for any arrogance that may communicate.

November 11th

2009-11-11T16:01:00.003-05:00

I've been struggling with this post since the tragedy of Ft. Hood last week, but especially because it is once again Veteran's Day in the US. I have deep conflict over the major civic holidays in this country and I really wish that it wasn't the case. I'm not sure it has to be that way, but I hope the issues presented here illuminate some of that struggle.

The Feast Day of St. Martin of Tours is also November 11th and I picked up on the profound statement the juxtaposition of these holidays makes from reading Shane Claiborne. St. Martin was a soldier in the Roman Army and descended from a long line of soldiers. He had a crisis experience early in his Christian journey that led him to risk his life to quit fighting. He volunteered to stand unarmed between two warring armies to prove both his bravery and his commitment to Christ.

One of the things I believe most strongly about Christian life is the call to make a unique statement, to engage in actions, a lifestyle that does not mark one out as simply "a good person," but one that marks one out as a follower of Christ. We must remember that there is a difference between what common morality demands and what faith in Christ requires of us.

I appreciate the statement of a Christian holiday commemorating one who was brave enough to die for peace set alongside the civic holiday commemorating many who have been brave enough to die in war.

I have nothing against soldiers - I've never met one who fit the movie stereotype of the bloodthirsty goon. I'm sure they exist in some small number, but every soldier I have ever met committed to a military life with careful consideration and generally selfless motives.

The desire to protect innocent people and the desire to stand up for what one believes to be noble and good causes are commendable. Most combat veterans exhibit the kind of bravery I doubt I could ever muster. For this they have my humble respect.

However, as a Christian, I feel fighting in a war relies too heavily on human means to achieve these positive ends - in the same way politicians rely too heavily on human means to bring justice and security - in the same way we rely too heavily on our paychecks and the sweat of our brows to feed and clothe our families.

The message of the gospel is one of alternative choices. Choices that make little sense in the rational extrapolation of our common wisdom, but choices that I must believe will ultimately prove victorious.

There is no way to completely rationalize one's outlook on life - at some point we must have faith in something, whether in human ability or scientific discovery or in God. The one thing I have to believe is that the humiliating execution of one man 2000 years ago changed the way the world works for all time.

I don't want to argue about pacifism here. That is not the subject of this post. While my ideals would lead me to take a stand elsewhere, I cannot claim, given the intense situations which have been faced by so many people before me, I would choose any different. This should not be an issue of idealism versus reality. It is an issue of how the Church responds to the reality of war.

I don't begrudge Christians who join the military. There are veterans in my family and among some of my closest friends. I understand the choice they've made and the faith they continue to possess. When people are away I pray for their safety and for God's presence with them and with the families they leave behind. I think we should all do what we can (and in my case, much more than I do) to support those families torn apart by war in this way.

At the same time, we must stand for peace. We must pray for an end to all war and not through one side defeating another, but for both sides to recognize the sovereignty of God and turn their tanks into tractors (to paraphrase the prophet).

So I suppose my opposition is not in recognizing veterans (as I've said, there is so much to admire in their lives and characters) as it is to what seems like the glorification of war. Freedom and security are not won through battles or revolutions or elections. They are gifts from God; and gifts that we're not promised to always enjoy. In fact, the promise we receive is hardship and persecution - this is the cost of a gospel that makes no good sense to those who stand on the outside - but one that is the very definition of life and death.

Apolitical Politics

2009-08-13T19:12:00.007-04:00

A friend asked me today whether I talk about politics to be right or to discuss. It was (and is) an astute questions. Upon reflection I think my answer is "neither." Let me attempt to explain:

I was quite worked up today, really as a byproduct of some stressful and unexpected curves in an otherwise straightforward afternoon, and listening to coverage of the current health care debate in the US did not help things at all. In reality, I suppose I am more upset that people cannot act civilly with one another, but instead create a partisan mess out of what should be an important discussion. It seems no one within the US political spectrum finds it helpful to engage in honest, realistic discourse. Both sides appear determined to keep their illusions at the forefront of media coverage, most likely because the public has made it abundantly clear that we too care little about real issues, only those shouting points aimed at the sections of our brain governing compassion, fear, and (most importantly) self preservation.

I believe that I would like to establish the what well before we move into discussion of the how. I would like to affirm the importance of every human life and the desire that every human life be cared for and maintained with all dignity and respect. Furthermore it is important to affirm the communal responsibility we play in caring for the whole of humanity. Obviously, this is an idealistic goal.

Often I wish that we could return to a life of subsistence, in which we grew our own food, made our own clothes and relied solely on ourselves for our livelihood and daily needs. However, when I indulge in this romanticism, I am starkly reminded that this image of simple utopia is not something that ever existed and thus not something to which we can return. We, as human beings (and probably before we were human beings), have always relied on each other; we are not inherently an individualistic people, nor an individualistic society. We must interact and we must rely on each other, as much as that feels dangerous and unsure to us.

At some point, the discussion of health care must inevitably move to one of pragmatics and there a robust debate is not only warranted, but necessary. I am just not sure the discussion is ready to be had; at least it appears that way, judging from the actions of those most involved. Nevertheless, it appears something will need to be done. No one likes the status quo all that much.

During the 2008 US Presidential election I came to the realization that I could not support any candidate for President (I believe there is a blog post earlier about that struggle), but I was very certain that I preferred some candidates over others. I was much happier to discuss specific issues and how I might prefer them to be handled, allowing others to judge for themselves which imperfect candidate they thought would come closest to their ideals. At this point it feels very similar in discussing health care reform proposals; it seems everyone has some idea for implementation, but none of them seem all that great. I do agree that something should be done; at this point I feel like doing something is better than doing nothing. Still, I would prefer to discuss why health care is an important issue and why it should have the seriousness and attention I long for it to have.

In the end, however, I am not afraid of the proposed reforms in the same way I was unafraid of who might emerge from the 2008 election as "the most powerful human being on the planet." In the end I do not place any faith in human endeavor to solve the problems of the world. Our combined efforts can do mighty things; we can move mountains, change the course of rivers, feed and clothe millions, and we can also destroy cities, ecosystems, families, and lives. Our actions have consequences, but none that will bring ultimate finality to anything. No matter what legislation we enact on any topic under the sun, life will go on and we will continue to have to deal with one another.

I would prefer to focus my time and efforts on exploring the assumptions I bring to those interactions and the values to which I am driven by those assumptions.

Another Day

2009-02-02T17:05:00.003-05:00

So I watched the Superbowl last night. The game was engaging enough, but I was tired and didn't have a real stake in the outcome. I am a big fan of Mike Tomlin, though, the head coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers. The announcers made a lot out of the fact that Tomlin, age 36, was the youngest person to both coach, and now win, a Superbowl. I didn't realize the significance of that fact until this morning.

Just two years ago, with media darling and All-American boy Peyton Manning on the verge of his first Superbowl title, the only story covered by the news media was the match-up of head coaches. Either Tony Dungy of Indianapolis or Lovie Smith of the Chicago Bears would be the first African-American head coach to win the game. Six days later, an upstart young Senator announced his candidacy for President of the United States.

All of these thoughts converged as I showered and started my day this morning. Not once did either of the announcers mention that Mike Tomlin was black. In the span of two years the color of an NFL coach's skin no longer mattered. It was old news.

This was an interesting fact until later this afternoon when our Barack Obama Inaugural Special Commemorative Issue of Newsweek magazine landed in the mailbox. As I was thumbing through the essays connecting the 44th President to seemingly every person who has ever lived, I was again taken aback by the emotion of his election. I relived the feelings of awe and inspiration that I had experienced on election night and the inauguration just two weeks previous.

However, as wonderful and important as these emotions are, they've already become stale and slightly disingenuous. Just last week the President's first major bill was approved on a straight party line vote in the House of Representatives and the same bill looks to be equally challenged in the Senate. We're back to business as usual in Washington.

Just as Mike Tomlin's skin had become meaningless, so had the monumental achievement of electing a black man President of the United States. I'm not sure that's a bad thing; in fact it has moved me in similar, if less emotional, ways to the election itself. I've never been accused of being the most patriotic person, but one thing that is truly great about the United States is our ability to move on.

At times we complain about the national attention deficit disorder that drives us from one crazed celebrity to the next. But this same "problem" allows us to reach the long-awaited top of a difficult hill and immediately look towards the next challenge. We have a lot of issues in this country and even our racial difficulties will not miraculously disappear, but one small part of those challenges is over.

On January 20th, 2009 we inaugurated a new President and he was a black man. It may have been the most revolutionary piece of political news in centuries.

On January 21st, it was no big deal.

Wave of the Future

2008-11-02T19:40:00.004-05:00

Ok, so I'm jumping back in to the blog with a doozy tonight. I really can't believe it's been since April that I posted something here. I feel awful about that. However, it should be known that I have continued to write since then and was even published in a small, almost never read magazine.

Regardless, I am ready to detail the long process that has led me up to election day, just a mere thirty-six hours away. For those of you who know me well this will come as no surprise, but I'm a bit of a political junkie. This is one of the more serious veins of an obsession with competition. My father has been laughing about it since I was pretty young. If there is a way for someone to win something, I will be interested - dog shows, beauty pagents, jai alai - whatever it is, I'll not only watch, but research and keep track of numbers. We used to have one of these plastic marble trough sets. You could construct these elaborate obstacle courses for marbles to run through; I remember spending hours with this thing and a stop watch, timing marbles, running little marble tournament races, and constatly re-constructing the thing to produce the fastest possible times.

Political races have about as much numerical data and opportunities for prediction than just about anything in the world. They also give ample opportunity for spirited debate. (Those close to me will also know that I rarely hide from a good-natured argument, even if I actually agree with the other person involved.) The US Presidential race is like heroine for me. The analogy even holds up beyond face value as I still complain that debates, primaries, and polls come too infrequently. I know, I'm a hopeless case.

This particular Presidential contest has been quite unique for me. You see I've been old enough to vote in US elections since 2000. I've twice written in Senator John McCain for the highest elected office in the land. I appreciated his bi-partisan, rebellious politics in 2000 and did not yet understand the political machines that colluded to his demise. By 2004 I had yet to find another figure I thought could handle the job and wrote McCain in again, almost by default. In neither election did I have much concern for who actually won; it seems we've had a string of losers nominated from both major parties for a while now.

Coincidently, in 2004 I, like a lot of human beings, were introduced to Barack Obama via his major speech at the Democratic National Convention. I had heard his name previously, mostly because of the press surrounding three opponents of his for the US Senate from Illinois dropping out of the race for bizarre reasons. I followed up with Obama, purchasing his first book, Dreams from My Father, which was written long before he had any political aspirations and was, therefore, the closest to the truth we were ever going to get out of him.

I was impressed, not only with his speaking and writing abilities, but with his attempt to frame politics with a new vocabulary. Here was the emergence, on a national stage, of a substantative politician from a new generation. It was quite intriguing - even more so when I viewed his speech from the Call to Renewal Conference, sponsored by Sojourners in 2006. This man is clearly a follower of Christ and open to speaking with religious language often ignored or feared by politicians.

Once it became clear that these two men would be vying for the Presidency, I was more than excited to see how things would progress. To my dismay, neither candidate kept to the high-brow and polite campaign they promised; McCain's personal and character attacks on Obama made me regret the previous votes I had cast for him. As I began to understand the issues and each candidate's perspective on them, I realized that I, in good conscience, could not vote for either man.

Now, to set the record straight, I am supportive of Obama. The US election system realistically gives the nation a choice between two people. Given that choice, I would much rather have a President Obama than a President McCain. However, our electoral system does not limit us to the two "big nominees." Every natural born, non-felon, US citizen over the age of thirty-five is elligible to be President of the United States.

Not too long ago, I decided I would write-in Representative Dennis Kucinich (D-OH) for President. I found myself resonating with Kucinich in the Democratic Presidential debates of 2004. I took several of those online candidate surveys to match my views with a Presidential candidate. Both in 2004 and in 2008 my results would invariably point to Kucinich. I will not make a long apology for the man, but regardless, I think his political philosophy is among the best of any person currently serving elective office anywhere.

However, over the course of this long campaign, I have come to admire the calm and comfortable attitude of Senator Obama. He has handled a tumultuous two year span with many crises and problems and yet barely registered any reaction. His plans have remained stable from the beginning and his faith in those plans undeterred. He certainly has a more desireable demeanor than Kucinich and I could just no longer convince myself that Kucinich was the "best" person for the job.

In the past few days, I have spent a good deal of time searching and thinking about how I will cast my vote on Tuesday. I've consulted books and mentors; I've thought and prayed. I have tried to allign my beliefs with voting practice and mostly came up short. As of yesterday afternoon, I was resigned to a write-in ticket including the names of two pastor friends of mine. Both are smart and honorable people whom I would trust with the grave decisions of governance (even if I would not wish the situation upon any person).

However, also yesterday, I was informed that Kansas, much like many states, moves all ballots including write-in votes to the category of "provisional," which drastically reduces the chances of said ballot ever being counted. While I have little desire to vote for the President of the United States, I do want my votes for other contests on the ballot to have some effect.

Early this morning I read the final pages of Jesus for President, a book about the Christian life in relation to the systems of the world around us. It is a fantastic book for anyone who wrestles with the call of God and the demands of life; I highly recommend it. I was impressed that this book avoided any mention of elections until the final few pages and spent perhaps four or five on the topic at all. One of the stories the authors recounted was of a group of US Christians who could no longer reconcile their beliefs against voting with the billions of people who lacked opportunity to vote and the thousands who have given their lives specifically in the struggle to win voting rights. Their solution was to seek out those without a voice and vote in their stead.

Tomorrow morning I will make an off duty visit to the dry cleaners I work with for my job. Their employees are mostly resident aliens from across Latin America. These women live in the US (some have been here for quite some time) and they work incredibly hard to support themselves and their families. They are among the bottom rungs of US society, socially, economically, and practically. They have no voice in matters that affect them, perhaps more than even these matters affect us. I am going to ask which candidate they would like to vote for and I will use my rights as a citizen of the United States to cast a vote for these voiceless friends.

Rotten Roots

2008-04-12T14:00:00.004-04:00

The wife graciously gathered up some enthusiasm to attend a frigid baseball game with me last night, even blowing off a potential party with friends to freeze to death so I could enjoy $1 hot dog night. I'm not joking about the weather, after the sun went down in the third inning, it was about 34 degrees with 20mph winds. We had tickets to sit at the top of the upper deck, but settled about 40 rows back on the first level, under the roof in case of rain.

We were impressed by Kauffman Stadium's new addition, the largest HD screen in the world (at least until another park builds a bigger one). I was thoroughly excited to see a good young Royals squad take on a good young Twins squad, despite the rash of construction debris around the park. The atmosphere was great and even with the cold it felt like baseball season.

Now Kansas City has great fans and they're loyal, so this is not so much a knock on them as it is a knock on the state of fan-dom altogether these days. Bill Simmons noted last week that the incredibly knowledgeable, deft crowd at Golden State Warriors games has been so infiltrated by rich front-runners that they successfully executed the wave last week. FYI - the wave should be done only at pop concerts and political rallies; stay away from my sporting events!

So Gil Meche allowed five runs early in the game before settling down for a solid outing. In the fifth inning the Royals loaded the bases with only one out. Up to the plate comes Jose Guillen. Guillen was signed in the off-season for a KC-max deal of $55 million dollars. He was hired to hit Home Runs. Despite a .158 batting average early, there was a sense that this was the moment for which he was brought in.

As I prepared to stand and make some noise so as to cheer on our struggling newcomer, I looked around and no one seemed to care. An idiot could tell that Guillen needed some crowd love to overcome the cold and make something happen; even a base hit would be timely. The crowd remained indifferent and Guillen whiffed on an 0-2 curveball.* Two outs.

Next up, the wunderkind, 22-year old Billy Butler, the savior of the franchise and owner of a nine game hit streak (the Royals had only played nine games to this point). The guy came into the game batting .400 and he's built like Babe Ruth. If any situation could get the Royals faithful (and you have to be faithful to come out on a night like this) hopping, nothing would (we'll see the horrible truth of how wrong I was in a moment). Indeed, there were a few more cheers, but nothing noticeable, even as Billy refused to swing at a borderline pitch on a 2-2 count. Only after the outfield scoreboard said "noise" nine times did any sort of emotion come out. Still no one stood and Billy grounded out to the pitcher.

I was about to chalk this all up to the cold and the fact that people just don't know baseball like they used to, when a 90 foot HD Garth Brooks appeared on the outfield screen and invited us to "stand up and sing," which all 16,000 people around us proceeded to do, carrying on with the second verse of "I've Got Friends in Low Places" even after Garth left the screen, drowning out the announcer's call of the next inning.

I've never been in a situation like that before. I really thought my head would explode, not from anger, but from sheer surprise. I've had the luxury of seeing baseball games at a lot of places. Nothing will ever top the camaraderie of singing along with the crowd at Fenway Park (which needs no visual prompts, by the way) to Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline in the late innings. However, that crowd also stands and cheers with ungodly volume when any Red Sox pitcher gets two strikes on a hitter.

There's a lot of reason why living in Kansas City has rubbed me the wrong way, but after that display, the next 14 months cannot come quickly enough.

For Shame!

*Guillen took two hard rips and fouled the first two pitches back to the media booth above home plate. He then proceeded to swing about fifteen seconds too early on the third pitch. I quit playing baseball in fifth grade due mostly to embarrassment, but even I know that if you're down 0-2 with the bases loaded, you better expect a breaking ball way off the plate. $55 million well spent, guys.

Outcast

2008-03-11T20:12:00.002-04:00

I've been mulling this over for most of the week. As much as I don't want this blog to be overly political, I also don't want it to come off too preachy. With that in mind, I still have to reflect on a troubling experience from the past week.

Nothing happened to me or anyone I know. In fact the injured party has long since sought closure. I was listening to the radio (something I've been doing a lot with the new job) and one of my coworkers had left the radio tuned to [insert conservative Christian talk radio program here]. I don't even know the name of the program, but you can imagine, I suppose.

The guest on the show was reflecting back on a situation in which he and his wife had neglected to show their son the necessary amount of love and acceptance. I believe the topic began with tattoos. He was saying how their son had been raised to understand that tattoos were unacceptable. He never used the word sinful or immoral, but the implication was there.

This particular story was about the son's first real job, in which he worked with a group of "other people." The father, in his reflection, acknowledged that the family had been more demanding than accepting and seemed to be truly repentant of such, however the attitude with which he told the rest of the story broke me up inside and I've remained "off" since.

He said that his son began to get piercings and talked about tattoos. The father attributed this entirely to an insecure and spiritually weak boy trying to fit in with his new friends who were showing him love and acceptance (the tone of voice indicated that this unconditional acceptance was one of those evil things that "the world" does). One day his son came home and the father spotted a tattoo under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

As the son revealed the crown of thorns imprinted on his biceps, the father recalled, in a tone of ridicule, how his son broke down in tears telling him, "I just needed to make a commitment to God; I got this done to remember what he went through for me." The father followed this part of the story up with a laugh as if to say, "silly boy, why bother with such foolishness." He clearly thought that his son was stupid for believing God could be honored by this vile artwork.

The son continued and asked for his father to help him pick out a scripture verse to have tattooed underneath. At this point the host chimed in with equal incredulity, "He did not? What did he expect you to do?" The father replied, "I gave him the Leviticus verse that says, 'do not tattoo your bodies; thus sayeth the Lord."

I turned the radio off and let out a loud string of unintelligible expressions of frustration and anger. This whole story was meant to illustrate how foolish this kid had been at 22 years old. How silly he was to think he could mix his faith and his culture without angering almighty God. All I could think was how easy it is to hate Christians. This man, some sort of authority (although I never caught his qualifications to be a guest) doesn't understand the most basic concept of the gospel.

Love.

It's all about love. It doesn't take and expert, heck, it doesn't even take a Christian to figure out what this situation was really all about. Here was a kid, adjusting to life as an adult but lacking in real, loving relationship to his parents seeking to reach out, not only to them, but to the faith they spent his whole life professing, only to be shot down and sent off to those sinners who don't care about how well he conforms to their norms.

Now, this story was prefaced by the fact that this son is now "back in the fold" and an upstanding Christian. I am overjoyed that the love of God overcame the callousness of God's self-proclaimed representatives, but I struggle with this story. I am a Christian who got a tattoo symbolic of my faith before I had any real faith of my own. I look back now and understand that I wouldn't do things the same way now, but that doesn't lessen the absolute correctness of the action in its time. I've been saying simple prayers for this unnamed son, that his forgiveness, his understanding of faith could transcend the experiences of his past. I think we all need those prayers now and then.

Into the Sunset

2008-02-26T19:16:00.002-05:00

I can see a national identity crisis looming for the United States. Well, there may be a number of ways that sentence could be interpreted, but I'm going for one that isn't entirely obvious. In case you haven't noticed, we're not an agrarian society anymore. Oh growing and selling plant crops is still a big business with lots of money to be made, but only 4% of the US workforce is employed in farming. It can be said that we take our bounty for granted, and many citizens of the United States do just that, but in the long run, we've got a very secure system set up that should be in good shape for the years to come.

So what?

Well this topic began rumbling around in my head because of NBC's announcement that it will forgo the traditional television schedule and run new programming year round. This could be a result of the recent writer's strike leaving them with an off-kilter production schedule, but recent trends seem to be heading in the year-round television direction, anyway. If people are watching and advertisers are willing to pay for time on these channels, why not make some extra money? That's what this world is all about anyway, right?

How does this relate to farming?

Why did we have the summer off from new TV in the first place? At network television's inception, the United States economy (not to mention most of its populace) ran on agriculture. People were in the fields from before sun-up to after sun-down and sleeping whenever they weren't working. There was no time for the frivolities of television (with the possible exception of men walking on the moon and Monday Night Football). At the time there were also less advertising revenues and it was actually cheaper not to produce new shows. It seems that the major TV networks are finally waking up to the reality of culture and embracing our post-agrarian society.

That's great and all, but it's not exactly an identity crisis, is it?

Not really, but it does portend what will undoubtedly be a wave of similar adjustments. Why did we all get three months off every summer to torment our parents? We had the time off so we could work on the farm without falling behind in our schooling. Even in places where agriculture is still vital to the local economy, the time required of minors to help on the farm is usually reduced to a couple of weeks in the fall. If you add in the drastic failure of US children to keep up with the intellectual prowess of the rest of the world, it's only a matter of time until our nation decides, "our education system is working right, so let's do even more of the same," and gives us truly year-round schooling.

We've seen Daylight Savings Time expand three extra weeks this year. This would be the reverse result. Initially DST was introduced to give farmers more time with sunlight to work the fields, but now we've come to realize that everybody likes more sunlight, no matter what they do to supply their livelihood (that sentence was intentionally awkward so as to include one of my favorite words to type, but I'll let you guess which one it is).

The point is that, in a nation that has always associated itself with hard work and self-reliance, we're just too interdependent to live like farmers anymore. We have to change, adapt, align ourselves with a new reality. Who knows where else this shift might rear its frightening head? Just don't be surprised when you see it.

Highway Robbery

2008-02-13T22:35:00.003-05:00

It's been a little while since I last posted so it seems an appropriate time to bring out what has become the most ongoing rant of my life.

I'll just come out and say it: I hate the greeting card industry. I can't imagine a more vile waste of time and space than an industry devoted to laziness and stupidity. How many times a year does one feel obligated to spend between $.99 and five dollars on a stupid little card with some pithy remarks about "congratulations on the new lake house" or "happy valentine's day to my brother and his wife?" (Only one of those was made up.)

It seems to me that if you don't care enough to write your own thoughts down on paper, then perhaps you don't care enough to send a card at all. Culture has conditioned us to think, "my, what a nice gesture" when receiving a card, when really the person is saying, "I spent three dollars on this and I mildly agree with the cheesy words this total stranger wrote."

I vowed at a young age not to support this vile laziness with my hard-earned cash. I have come to a bit of a compromise since vowing my love and fidelity to the wife. Whenever possible, I locate and procure a greeting card with nothing written on it so as to enable me to put my own thoughts down on paper and thus give a truly sincere token of respect or care. (In the interest of full disclosure, I do search for and occasionally purchase humorous cards, but only for the comedic value, not the sentiment; it's my version of the annoying email forward from Uncle Stu, et al).

Without getting into my utter (although quite related) disgust with the evil Free Market Economy holiday that happens to fall tomorrow, I was out searching for a card this evening. I scoured a full, two-sided aisle at the local grocery story in search of the elusive (blank inside) label, which is becoming as difficult to find as a polar bear with a bright outlook on life. I was forced to settle on a plain white Thank You card in the second row from the bottom at the far end of the aisle.

As I looked down the row, at the crowded section of bewildered men hovering in front of a very red section of cards, I couldn't help but smile. Even though their labor will result in a perfectly appropriate card, mine will have a truly unique representation of my feelings and will also look decidedly better than an index card.

Picture Perfect

2008-02-02T20:59:00.001-05:00

My wife bought Stranger than Fiction over the holidays. We rented this wonderful movie last year and knew it deserved another viewing. We sat down to watch it over the weekend. In case you’re unfamiliar, Stranger than Fiction is the story of a man named Harold Crick who suddenly finds himself in the middle of a very real novel. The ultimate conclusion is something other than the main character would have chosen for himself. Assured by the local literature expert that the ending is a work of majestic genius, he decides to proceed with the determined course of life.

The kicker comes unexpectedly at the end. While the ending of the book becomes tragic for Harold Crick, it is universally accepted as the poetic, proper, and beautiful conclusion. However the author decides that the perfect dénouement is not worth the misery of an altogether real man.

There are a number of deep thoughts and provocative connotations running throughout this brilliant film. The ending, however, made me appreciate a unique aspect of life on the Earth. My personality tends towards the grandiose; I have an incredible craving for poetic justice. Rarely does an ending live up to the grand expectations that I place upon it. This applies to books and movies as well as the everyday events of my life. Stories ought to have grand and moving conclusions. It just seems the right thing to do.

Stranger than Fiction presents another vision of the end. Perhaps the conclusion of our stories is not about beauty and perfect timing. Perhaps the beauty of an ending is eclipsed by the beauty of reality. Are we willing to sacrifice the ghostly excellence of the possible future for the awkward delicate beauty of the mundane? Do we spend so much time focusing on the perfect conclusion to our story that we fail to do justice to the elements of plot?

The closing line of the movie echoes in my thoughts: “And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties which we assume only accessorize our days are, in fact here for a much larger and nobler cause: They are here to save our lives.”

So be it.

Heroes

2008-01-26T21:05:00.001-05:00

Where are all the truly great people in our world? I've been reflecting on the life of the Revered Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. this week. I've been thinking about the virtuosity for which he is so known. He was a brilliant, powerful public figure who stood not for might and control, but for peace and justice. In a world where power is defined by one's ability to call the shots, Dr. King proved once and for all that life lived as example could motivate monumental change.

So I ask again, where are the truly great people in our world? I've heard it said that the constant media attention keeps anyone from appearing as saintly as Dr. King. Had he lived today, his faults and failings would have be exposed; we would not have seen him in the same light. I don't think that's true. We've recently learned some sad, yet incredible truths about the life of Mother Theresa that could potentially tarnish her legacy. I don't find this all that likely either. The sheer truth of the impact made upon this planet by those select individuals known, both formally and informally, as saints will outweigh any detractions we could ever discover. That is not to say that the ends justify the means in every instance, but that we will never cease to be amazed at the righteousness that can be wrought through the life of one committed, if flawed, individual.

But the question still remains, where are the truly great people in our world? In this age of increased globalization, in an era where the round world has suddenly become flat, in a time where people anywhere can communicate and collaborate with anyone on the planet, we may need to look at the work of great people in a different way. Perhaps the very scrutiny of society will force us to realize just how inadequate individuals are in the grand scheme of things. We are always amazed at the likes of Dr. King because we see ourselves as unprepared and unqualified to do anything of significance in this world of ours.

So to answer the question, the truly great people in our world are those around us. The age of great men (and women) is giving way to the age of great people. The time of one man making a difference has moved to a time where all of us must band together and take control of our world. It is no longer enough for us to sit back and support those natural leaders and innovators, leaving them to make all the difference. As this world becomes more and more a gigantic community, we must understand the increasing role we all play in the success of that community. We will continue to raise up those of us most able to articulate the message, but we must rely less on the profundity of their speech and more on the power of our reality. It takes not saints nor great men to make a difference; it takes those of us who care, united under the banner of peace and justice for all.

The Next Hurdle

2008-01-24T17:39:00.000-05:00

I have broken away from the rigors of my daily nine hours of class for a few moments of literary clarity. The news came out today that my choice for President of the United States has decided to call it quits. While there has been no official announcement, the inevitable folding of the Kucinich 2008 campaign is finally upon us.

I know what you're all saying, "Kucinich? Isn't he that little loon who's always whining about how his campaign doesn't get a fair shake?" Yeah, that's exactly who he is, although 'loon' is a bit hypocritical from someone talking to their computer screen. Dennis Kucinich is the only candidate who has any sort of moral cohesion to his campaign. He doesn't take money from special interests and he doesn't strategically change positions depending on the outcome of polls. He's committed to peace, community, and care for the poor; all of those things more than cover his belief in UFOs.

I did not, and still do not want this blog to be of a political nature; it's one of the reasons I've refrained to mention my favorite candidate until he's announced the end of his campaign (even though he could have used the PR). So I won't waste time extolling his plan to institute a Cabinet level Department of Peace, guaranteeing free education through college, and transforming the health care system into a non-profit entity.

I am going to use this space to mention and ruminate on an important observation of this campaign. I am overjoyed to see that the age-old prejudices of race and gender are crumbling in American politics. I don't pretend to think that these problems are not serious and ongoing, but it seems that finally, in politics, a qualified minority candidate can get a fare shake.

It may be time to move on to the next step in the egalitarianizing of the United States: appearance. Do you know the moment that Congressman Kucinich's long-shot campaign came to an end? It happened about nine months ago, before the first debate, when Saturday Night Live had him played by an extremely short woman. I don't begrudge Lorne Michaels and the gang this triviality. It was satirical, appropriate and quite humorous. I am more bemoaning the fact that all of those things are true in this country.

We've gotten to a point where the tone of one's pigment or the chromosomes of one's body no longer have a bearing on our opinion of them (on a broad scale). However, appearance is just as much a problem as it has always been. An interesting report came out last week on those internet candidate polls. People can work through a series of questions and answers which help them see which candidates best fit their beliefs on important election issues. The study found that the overwhelming majority of people who took the survey came up with Dennis Kucinich as their #1 match, though most continued to support whoever they supported prior to the survey.

Now Kucinich is merely an example here. We've known for a long time that our President has to be pretty. Exit polls for the last 25 years have shown that an alarming percentage of the population cast their vote for the "more attractive" candidate. We're a culture driven by visual stimuli. Time ran a story a few months back with findings that people were less likely to support candidates if they were balding or had gray hair. I don't propose a solution to this epidemic; I doubt one exists to be found. I just wish we'd stop patting ourselves on the back so hard about our ability to judge political candidates objectively. Barack Obama would not have the same support if he spoke as he does, but looked and dressed like Al Sharpton.

This is where Kucinich becomes a bad example. His policies and platform were idealistic at best and impossible at worst. He was never really taken seriously because he doesn't play within the normal rules of politics. But we need only look around us to see further evidence. The women in ancient period movies are always clean, hairless, and sporting impeccable skin despite the lack of American cultural mores, showers, and Neutrogena. If you want to stick to the political realm, we can do that too. Earlier this week Fred Thompson bowed out of the Republican race. Here was a man with little or no interest in running for President who wowed supporters for months with both his towering stature and powerful performance as a Manhattan District Attorney on Law and Order.

I'll climb back into my hole and my "unaffiliated" (as they call independent voters in Kansas) existence and continue to wait for the other shoe to fall. I just hope that someday, most likely long after I'm gone, that society can reach the point of choosing leaders for reasons other than "they look the part."

Where's the Beef?

2008-01-15T20:23:00.001-05:00

OK, if I'm going to be doing more frequent blog posts, the level of discourse may have to be lowered at times. This... is one of those times.

I'm not sure if you've been watching much television since the writer's strike has dragged into it's sixth fortnight, but Burger King, the always a bridesmaid, never a bride of national burger chains, has introduced a new ad campaign. If you're too lazy or lack the bandwidth to take a look, I'll summarize: the premise of these commercials is that Burger King has stopped serving their signature burger, the Whopper, and they film real reactions on hidden camera.

Needless to say, despite the general lack of quality or originality in their food products, there are serious Burger King customers out there who will freak out if they can't get a Whopper. I might be able to put a whole post together about the suspicious nature of these so-called "real" reactions, but let's take a step back and analyze what these commercials are really saying.

Suspend your disbelief and imagine that you love Whoppers, just absolutely cherish every moment of flame-broiled scrumtrilescence. You walk into the local BK and order the number one special with Mr. Pibb (or whatever quenches your imaginary thirst), only to find out that the Whopper no longer exists! It would be a funny joke and a great prank. I am all for hilarious and time-consuming pranks, but is it really wise to publicize this as a means of increasing business?

You know what these commercials say to me?

Welcome to Burger King: where you may or may not get what you ordered!

And we wonder why they consistently fail to compete on a national level?

Contract with America

2008-01-14T21:36:00.000-05:00

Due to the strong example of the writer of a fantastic blog, I am hereby committing to write more often. It's not as though I have been entirely absent from the writing profession, what with the graduate level research papers and contributions to other websites, not to mention the myriad of message board postings, I am keeping up some measure of skill.

I will admit, however, to neglecting a gift, a joy, a necessity in my life. I am not taking the proper time to reflect in writing on the world around me. Since a few lucky readers have stroked my ego by expressing more than luke-warm responses to previous postings, I may continue this reckless foray into the digital unknown.

I am, as yet, unsure of exactly what sort of format these new postings will take, if they take any specific form at all. I've seen the challenge out there to post on a daily basis; frankly, that frightens me. I will commit to posting at least weekly and attempt to post even more often. Now that my schedule is a bit different, I do have access to blogspot more often, which means when the mood strikes there is a greater chance I can get it down in permanent form.

Flipping through the channels around lunchtime today, I caught Charlie Rose on PBS. Often cited as the best interviewer in the world (we'll say 'in television' in deference to Terry Gross and the best interview show anywhere), Charlie does a good job of getting interesting material out of both interesting and uninteresting people alike. I'm not sure which category Philip Pullman falls into, but he was the subject of today's interview. You may know Pullman from recent headlines, but he is first and foremost a writer, with some good advice. He said that he writes 1,000 words everyday. Some days it takes fourteen hours and other days it only takes two. Either way he puts in the routine work that adds up to greatness. My wife just finished two of his books and seems to agree.

In short we'll call this the Philip Pullman challenge. I may not make the word requirement or even the daily requirement, but I will attempt to be more regular (which also wouldn't hurt in the other meaning of that phrase either). Until then, peace and contentment to you and remember to wash your hands (there's a nasty gastrointestinal thing going around and it's not pretty).

Viva la Revolution

2007-11-12T20:32:00.001-05:00

So I've been anti-Starbucks pretty much from the beginning. I'm not a huge chain guy, nor am I much of a caffeine officianado. I just don't think it's smart to jump into bed with the most addictive, socially acceptable legal drug out there. Regardless, when I do wrangle up a craving for some coffee, I generally check out the friendly neighborhood locally-owned java joint for a low-caf cup o' joe. Lately, what with the full-time student/full-time job racket, I've actually been reverting to the caffeinated variety far too often.

I've also been aware of the recent plethora of stories about how the new McDonalds coffee beats Starbucks in all the taste tests. People's taste buds can clearly pick out the inferiority of the over-brewed, insanely bitter Starbucks coffee. Still, I've never sampled the stuff as black coffee generally isn't worth the paper it's printed on.

Tonight, however, there was a commercial on TV about a free vanilla latte at McDonalds on Mondays. Since our current abode has the advantage of being less than a mile from the local Kastle Kroc (well I suppose there are about 5 billion people on the planet who can say the same thing), we took the opportunity to check it out.

Friends, I have seen the future and it is framed by Golden Arches! We got the small Vanilla latte (retail $2.29). It tasted like real coffee. No bitter aftertaste; just the right amount of sugar. It was the masterful mix of everything good and holy in a tiny recyclable cup. And this wasn't some extremely well-prepared, "best foot forward" kind of sample. The pimply sixteen-year-old behind the counter just pulled it out from under a heat lamp, where it presumably had been sitting for an indeterminant amount of time.

I know McDonald's is a giant, super-rich billion-dollar corporation, the kind that sucks the soul of the planet and brings destruction on all we hold dear. However, they make a kick-ass $1 double cheeseburger and they've got the goods to bring Starbucks down. You may say that I'm going over to the dark side, but perhaps, I've found the light.

Unconditional Love

2007-07-11T08:20:00.002-04:00

Watching the Major League Baseball All-Star Game last night, I was not expecting to get a glimpse of genuine love. Before the game began there was an interview with arguably the best player ever to play baseball, Willie Mays. Mays played most of his career for the Giants and since the game was being held in San Fransisco, they made a big deal out of Willie, and rightly so.

Willie Mays began playing for the Giants in 1951, when he won rookie of the year honors. During his tenure with the team, he played with a man named Bobby Bonds. Bonds used to bring his young son around the clubhouse and even made the great Willie Mays the kid's godfather. That boy grew up to be quite the ballplayer himself. Barry Bonds broke into the league in the mid 80's and immediately began to tear it up. He was a fantastic player with all around abilities. He was well into a Hall of Fame career when something odd began to happen to him and virtually every other slugger in the game. They began to grow. There has been speculation and, at times, proof that a whole bunch of major league players were using performance enhancing drugs to improve their abilities and ultimately hit more home runs.

Barry Bonds has become the poster child and scapegoat for this issue. He broke the single season home run record, hitting an unbelievable 73 home runs in 2001, breaking Mark McGwire's only slightly more believable record of 70, hit three years earlier. Now, as Bonds approaches the most hallowed record in sport, Hank Aaron's 755 career home runs, he is getting the brunt of criticism more and more. Add to this that Bonds' father, with whom he was immensely close, died in 2003, one can see how this is a stressful time for Barry, even if it may be a situation he put himself in.

That's why last night's festivities were so amazing to me. Willie Mays, the great hero of baseball, continues to stand up for his godson. Willie stands proudly next to Barry, the man he's known since childhood, in the place where Barry's father can no longer stand. Willie doesn't address the steroids issue; I've never heard him even make an allusion to his feelings one way or another. He has only one position: Barry Bonds is like a son to me and I'm with him no matter what.

I try to keep the sports topics out of this blog because they can dilute the content and turn off readers, but this story is not really about sports. Willie Mays, at 76 years old, still has some hero in him. Willie is teaching us about love and loyalty in a way that rings true in my life. We don't abandon those we love just because they made some poor decisions. Barry Bonds will not have to worry like the pregnant teenager suddenly homeless or the drug addict in jail with no one to bail him out. Even Barry Bonds, the most hated man in professional sports, has a base of love. Willie Mays, one of the sport's great ambassadors, has one more lesson for us to learn.

The Return

2007-07-06T16:39:00.001-04:00

Well, guess what? I’m back. It’s been a busy summer for the most part and there hasn’t been much time to think or write about anything I don’t have to turn into a professor. So today, I have this idea and I think to myself, “man, I should write this down somewhere,” and then immediately, “yeah, but where would I just write down some random idea?” and then even more immediately, “of course, there’s a whole world that thrives on people’s random ideas; you can write there.” So here we are.

The wife is out of town for a few days to attend a wedding, so predictably I stayed up too late the first night, especially when I still have to get up for work at 6am. Yesterday morning was a little rough, but I masked the fog behind a rare caffeine shield (Guatemala Antigua dark roast…mmm mmm) and went about my day. Still the lingering notions of morning were a bit of a deterrent.

However, not enough of a deterrent to keep me from doing the same thing the next night. Now with two days fatigue on my hands, I went to bed and somehow managed to wake up from a deep sleep before my alarm and feeling totally rested and relaxed. I said a little prayer of thanks to God for that unexpected blessing.

Then I thought (as maybe you did as well), God didn’t make you sleep better last night than the night before! And it’s probably true. The odds of Almighty God bending the well ingrained laws of space and time so that I could feel a little more refreshed this morning are pretty slim. That’s just not the way things work in this world. My rest had a lot more to do with human physiology being such that an exhausted body sleeps deeper (and thus better) than simply a very tired one.

Existentially, in the grand scheme of things, God was the one who set the processes in motion which led to the development of human physiology and thus this wonderful gift of rest to me this morning. In some way, it is ok to say that God did this, because really God “does” just about everything if we’re looking at things from that perspective.

And really, this action is exactly the kind of thing God does. I mean the idea that I got extra rest when I really, really needed it, but totally did not deserve it (and if anything, deserved the opposite) matches right up with the unbelievable character of God. So, long story short, I’m very ok with ascribing thanks (and real thanks, not just the kind you throw at a stranger for holding the elevator) to God on this one.

Whether there was any cosmic string pulling or button pushing directly undertaken last night or not, God did a good thing and continues to do the same good thing throughout the world.

Preacher

2007-04-17T18:03:00.001-04:00

For most of my life people have been telling me how good a writer I am. I'm not saying that in an arrogant way, although it has been a struggle over the years to keep from getting too proud or too self important over my abilities. People seem to like what I have to say and the words seem to come together relatively effortlessly. For a while now, I've been identifying myself as "a writer." For example, if I hear a particularly well worded piece of prose, be it in a book or a paper, I'll tell someone, "I'm a writer, so I appreciate how good this is." You're right, that does come off as arrogant. Guilty as charged.

Several years ago I was first exposed to a fantastic movie called Wonder Boys. I won't go into the whole plot synopsis, but it is essentially about the craft of writing, but the true genius of the movie is not in the plot or the acting or the story itself, although all of those elements are fantastic, the true genius of Wonder Boys is the screenplay. The writing is so masterfully crafted that the mere words coming out of the actors' mouths are a joy to the ear. Nothing seems so wonderful to me as a well crafted sentence and this movie is chock full of them. While I haven't read the book that inspired the movie, much credit can be given to the screenwriter (Steven Kloves) who parlayed this movie into a sweet gig adapting the Harry Potter series for the big screen.

During the course of Wonder Boys, there is a scene where a fictional best-selling author addresses a writer's convention with the simple line "I am (pause for dramatic effect) a writer," and is met with uproarious applause. That always puzzled me. It seemed too simple, too indulgent. Perhaps I wasn't a writer after all. I can't resonate with a ridiculous statement like that.

All of this has come to mind as I process the slow demise of our Saturday Evening Worship service. For the past eight or so months, I have been working with a small group of people to lead a rather non-traditional, traditional service at our church on Saturday evenings. Part of this responsibility required me to preach a sermon each week. (Before you all tune me out here, yes, I am a preacher, but every single negative thing that comes to your mind right now, is probably also something I hate about preachers. So hear me out.)

This service kind of arrived at a unique juncture in my life. I was given a chance to explore what I believe to be the call on my life, that is to preach. At the same time I am given this opportunity, I am also enrolled in my first "preaching" class. The combination of these two things has allowed me to explore vast corners of my life that would otherwise be left cluttered. I was able to use the non-traditional atmosphere of the service to expand my creative outlook on preaching and put into practice the theoretical elements of preaching I picked up in class.

Each week the sermon became a writing assignment. It fit far more naturally than anything else I had ever tried. You can ask Carl Winderl how well my foray into short fiction went (luckily I took the class pass/fail and he was gracious). I write poetry, but even I, in my arrogant haze, know it's more for therapy than show; and novels have always seemed so long and scary to me. I needed a creative outlet to express my usually non-fiction premises in a way that would impact people without bogging down the message.

Low and behold: the sermon.

Our service ended last week. In the vacuum of that time and effort commitment, I have been reflecting on its lost place in my life. While I am relieved to have the stress and pressure of the weekly service lifted for a time, I cannot help but desperately miss that outlet in my life. As the Rev. Dr. Larry Lott said recently, "Preaching is the hardest thing you'll ever do...but you love it!"

So as I reflect on this time in my life, the writing talent I have developed and the lack of belonging within the writing community, I have come to a stark, but satisfying realization. I can identify with that character (played admirably by Rip Torn, by the way; perhaps one of the greatest stage names ever conceived) in his statement. While I am not a writer, I am a preacher; it defines who I am. It is a big enough and comfortable enough role with me that it can define me, yet it is large enough and spacious enough that it will allow room for growth in all aspects of my life. I'm not sure if this is what people talk about when they find a sense of purpose, but it certainly gives me confidence. I am... a preacher.

Goodbye, Mr. Vonnegut

2007-04-12T14:25:00.001-04:00

Well, it's happened. My favorite living author is no longer eligible for the category. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. died overnight from complications of a brain injury that resulted from a fall a few weeks back. He was the most influential author in my past and an idiosyncratic visionary the likes of which we will never see again.

Vonnegut was a member of "The Greatest Generation," but one that bucked the trends. He was, at times, a socialist, an iconoclast, a visionary, and a prophet. He was unafraid to speak out and challenge the status quo, even when he was in total agreement with it. He wrote about the value and the vagueries of the human spirit in prose that embodied the hopelessness of a future in chaos.

Sort of a Marxist Jules Verne on acid, Vonnegut was never happy with anything and yet seemed cautiously joyful at all times. He made a mark, in his later years, giving brilliant commencement speeches at some of the finest universities in the land. As he grew older, it became tougher and tougher to fictionalize his thoughts (as if his fiction was ever all that fictional).

I remember Vonnegut from my first encounter with his first work, Player Piano. Here was an author, well, at the time he was just an average guy putting pen to paper, who just seemed to ramble on and stumble over plot in such a haphazard, yet consistently humorous, entertaining and engaging way. His books read like my thoughts; they gave hope to the lunatic fringe in all of us. He was Ernest Hemmingway for the non-machismo set.

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. has been my literary hero and my teacher. I will forever be indebted for the example of freedom and bravery he blazed across the literary landscape. There's more length and depth and breadth to Vonnegut than I can subsume here. I'd ask, in the memory of this great writer, that you explore the world of Kurt Vonnegut. You will not be disappointed.

The Call Ahead

2007-04-02T09:45:00.001-04:00

I've never had much problem with the call ahead, you know, the practice than many restaurants have where people are allowed to call ahead and get their name on the waiting list for a table. However recent events have led to a seismic shift in my thinking on this matter. Let me explain...

Friday evening the wife and I decided to take our near weekly trip to local dining establishment, Jose Pepper's. We enjoy this place often because the ridiculously large portions allow us to share an entree and still feel sufficiently gorged. An added bonus: they send out coupons for free spinach and cheese dip so often we never run out. It's like 25 dollars worth of food for $9.50 plus tip.

We're not the only one who understand the value of said restaurant, so weekends are usually quite busy at Jose Pepper's. We arrived at 6:00pm (early for those of you on the East Coast, but smack in the middle of prime dinner real estate for those of us in the "mighty" Midwest). We were told that our wait would be 30-40 minutes, which is not altogether unreasonable. We took our flashy restaurant-style pager and retreated to a nearby bench to wait. The wife, with unusual astuteness, noticed that one of the hostesses spent the whole evening answering the phone and taking call aheads; literally the whole evening. As soon as the phone would land in the cradle it would be ringing again.

Initially I was disappointed. I felt somewhat inadequate that I had neither known nor taken advantage of the call ahead program at Jose Pepper's. As time progressed and more and more new arrivals showed up and walked right into the dining room for a table, I became more perplexed. The wife went up to ask how much time we had remaining and heard "you've only been waiting thirty minutes, so it should be five to ten." We'd been waiting 38 minutes.

Now my passive aggressive tactics ruptured into full swing. I commenced standing directly in front of the hostess station, facing them in an attempt to block access to the station for any potential table thieves. Much to my chagrin, some diners made it through my makeshift gauntlet. While this was initially a setback, eavesdropping on their conversation afforded me some valuable insight. One man was told that they were behind in their seating "because of all the call aheads." And from further observation I could see why. Instead of giving the callers a time that their table would be ready, the hostess simply put the person's name on a list and when they arrived at the restaurant, they went into the queue with everyone else, except they got a 10-15 minute wait time.

So, to recap. If you show up at the restaurant in bodily form (presumably with the purchasing power to actually pay for your meal) you wait. If you call ahead and then show up (which requires a whole lot less commitment, mind you) you get right in (relatively speaking).

The absolute boiling point came when a woman walked up and announced she had called ahead. The hostess went through the list three times without finding the name. She cross checked the approximate time the woman called along with the person she had spoken with (the woman didn't know; how convenient). So what happens? The woman (now obviously exposed as a cheat) is given a pager with the promise "we'll have a table for you in ten to fifteen minutes. My God! I thought we lived in a society; a society with rules!

We did get a table, a fantastic waitress (go Kate) and a free dessert, so all is well. However, the whole situation got me to thinking.

The Call Ahead should be banned. This is like "calling it" when you were younger. If you wanted the last piece of cake, you "called it" and no one questioned your rights. I think there's several comedians who do routines around this point. It's an adolescent universal standard. I'm sure there are heavily armed child soldiers in Chad right now in the midst of unnatural chaos, suffering abuse and trauma beyond any of our imagination, who are successfully using the "called it" system with little or no trouble.

Perhaps the ultimate example of the "called it" system is shotgun, whereby one member of a traveling group claims right to sit in the front, passenger seat of said traveling vehicle. This extends beyond adolescence and is in wide use among the of-age populace. However, we didn't just arrive at this system willy-nilly. There is a specific set of rules that govern shotgun, some of which change with geographic location, but with some basic tenets. 1) You've got to be in reasonable proximity to the driving event to call shotgun. My friends and I used the simple "outside the door" rule, while others say "in sight of the vehicle." There is no one out there granting shotgun to someone who calls it an hour ahead of time. It's not happening. It's unnatural. 2) You absolutely have to be present to call shotgun. You can't have a proxy or do it over the phone (or, I guess, by text message, if that is your thing). Perhaps (and this is a longshot here) perhaps if every other passenger fails to call shotgun in a timely manner, a proxy call could be accepted, but that would only be because of the vast ineptitude of the other passengers.

This all brings me back to the call ahead. It's not right. I am asking for a ban on the call ahead; at the very least there needs to be some standard of rules adopted on an international level to govern the call ahead. I'm not sure my heart can take another torturous adventure like the one I had on Friday. For the love of God, for the sake of all that's good and holy in the world, we need action.

Upside Down Success

2007-03-23T13:33:00.001-04:00

Sorry for the long layoff. I just haven't been that upset near a computer lately. That all ends today.

To provide some background, yesterday Tubby Smith resigned as Head Men's Basketball Coach at the University of Kentucky to take the same position at the University of Minnesota. This came in the wake of rumors that he would be fired for lack of success. In this case, lack of success means winning twenty games every year, playing in the National Tournament every year, finishing in the top ten three times, including one national championship. The University of Kentucky has the all-time winningest men's basketball team, so they have the right to high expectations. No doubt they prefer a different kind of coach for the future and they have every right to those opinions.

Now to the insanity. Today on ESPN's Page 2, in their daily opinion section, Jemele Hill began a short commentary with the line, "It wasn't just Kentucky fans who got their wish when Tubby Smith suprisingly bolted to Minnesota. Tubby got his wish, too."

I thought that this was a fitting start to an article on how both sides were able to reach a mutually beneficial conclusion to a very public issue without losing face or doing something they would regret. Not to be. Instead Hill launched into this unconscionable diatribe about how Tubby caved under the pressure of a big school environment and how he should be getting ripped in the press for chickening out and running away. Even the normally sane Gene Wojciechowski made a similar inference in his coaching change commentary.

This world has officially turned upside down in it's thinking. I am perfectly ok with the win at all costs mentality, but when those people who embrace the win at all costs mantra take shots at people with a different measure for success, I must take a stand. Tubby Smith plays a system. He's got an offense that he likes and a very well crafted defensive scheme. He recruits players that will excel in this system, make good teammates and make the school proud. He doesn't necessarily break the bank for recruiting All-Americans and he hasn't bought into the one and done mentality introduced to the NCAA by the NBA's new age limit.

The bottom line: Tubby Smith wants to coach college basketball. In this era of millionaire ballers, colleges that want to compete for the national title have to operate like professional clubs. Tubby doesn't want that and he never has. I was amazed when Kentucky selected Smith to replace demigod Rick Pitino after his ill-fated jump to the NBA. Smith ran a solid program at Georgia, but never aspired to be a celebrity coach, a trait that is not only encouraged, but necessary at the big college level. It was obvious to me, then a high-school student half-way across the country, Tubby was a good coach, but he wasn't going to be what Kentucky wanted.

So here we are, Tubby has run one of the most consistently successful programs of the last decade. Perhaps he had some futile notion that he could convert Kentucky nation to his basketball philosophy, but one thing remains: Tubby Smith is not measuring success by how much money he makes or how many of his players are drafted in the NBA Lottery. He puts a smart, hardworking team on the floor every game, one that is superbly coached and never unprepared. His teams win consistently and compete constantly. Good luck at Minnesota, Tubby, at least there they'll appreciate an annual trip to the Big Dance and twenty wins in their back pocket.

That's success in my book.

Where's the Plurality?

2006-07-20T14:59:00.001-04:00

Today I've discovered yet another reason our two-party system is failing America. I've always been of the opinion that we need more political parties. Not that I am naive enough to believe we only have two, but in reality we only have two that anyone gives a crap about. You know why? Because somewhere along the lines these two parties found it both expedient and useful to write into the rules of Congress that only the Democrats and Republicans get special priviliges, which, in essence makes them superior in ability and access. Democrats and Republicans get special treatment and have special rights in our lawmaking and electoral process.

This, however, has led to a gigantic vacuum of progress and responsibility. Because they know that there will only be two contenders in every major political race, neither party actually has to DO anything. They can sit around and argue and bicker and vote pay raises for themselves, knowing full well that all they have to do is send some Federal money back home and blame the other party for all of life's problems.

This is what a multi-party government can bring to us. When there are an enormous amount of parties all vying for seats and influence, they are forced to actually take positions on things and be innovative in campaigning. They are forced to work for the betterment of society or else risk losing their seat and power, perhaps forever.

A multi-party system also forces political opponents to work together and build coalitions. You don't see any of this propagandist polarization in multi-party governments because without the support of many different people, you cannot govern.

All of these are reasons why I'm an avowed independent. I tried to vote in my primary yesterday and was barred from doing so, unless I was willing to declare a party affiliation. Well, I have principles.

A New Frontier

2006-06-02T10:55:00.001-04:00

I have had this space reserved and planned for quite some time now, but it has been a struggle to actually post anything. I envisioned this blog as a place for me to explore ideas and vent frustrations over serious issues. However, it seemed rather pretentious to make the first post something so grandiose or over the top serious. That's just not cool. So with that in mind, here is my first attempt at posting:

Recently I've found myself living in Kansas City, which is a weird enough phenomenon on its own. During this experience I have had occasion to attend several baseball spectacles at Kauffman Stadium, enjoying not only the friendly fountains in the outfield, but the reasonably priced and relatively clean seats (in contrast to those on the East Coast). On top of the value, the ineptitude of the franchise guarantees that nearly every seat will be available to every single game.

This season the Royals (or TurdBirds, as the locals have taken to calling them) have reach new heights in incompetence, fielding one of the worst teams of all time (and that includes my 3rd grade T-Ball squad on which I was the star player). Even when a team loses, most of the time fans are loyal and longsuffering, but there is an inevitable breaking point. Kansas City reached that point exactly two days into the 2006 baseball season. No one is holding out hope anymore and are actively rooting for the only attainable goal this year: breaking the Major League record for losses in a season (120, set by the first-year expansion NY Mets back in 1962).

As an outsider I have been reveling in the unique joy that is a rogue fan base. So many people who have endured so many awful seasons are having their hearts ripped out as they bite their lips and endure the national media attention that comes with such futility. This is painful for so many involved, even as they pretend not to care. I seem to be one of the few immune to such horror as I could not care less if the team was boxed up and shipped to Somalia.

That is until last week.

I was attending a two-week intensive class that ran for four hours every weekday evening and concluded around 9:30pm. This happened to coincide nicely with the end of the fourth quarter of whatever NBA playoff game happened to be scheduled for the evening. Since I also do not have cable television and the NBA has seen fit to keep the preliminary rounds away from the telling eye of the impoverished and paranoid, I had been looking forward to listening to said broadcasts on the way home.

As I entered my car for the thirty minute trek I switched on the local ESPNRadio affiliate only to hear... yep, you guessed it, Frank Stallone... the Royals broadcast. Apparently the Kansas City affiliate for NBA playoffs had also yet to find a way out of their Royals broadcast contract. In my opinion it would be better to lose the money than subject the good-hearted mid-western people to that form of torture, but then again, I am not a programming executive for any media outlet (praise be to God).

This left me with the unenviable task of guessing when JT The Brick would be doing NBA updates and tune in at exactly the right time to avoid hearing any of his ridiculous voice or incoherent, illogical, inane banter.

The moral of the story folks, is that the Kansas City Royals are not just a baseball team, but an uncontrollable Juggernaut sent by the forces of evil to stomp upon the comfort and sanity of people everywhere. This menace will not be confined to Kansas City for long, it has savaged me and it will soon be knocking at your door. Be on you guard, therefore, and do not let the Royals drag you down with them.