Day 43 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Passion Week - Holy Wednesday
Take one look at me and you can automatically tell I like to eat. Recently, I heard that some people have a biological propensity for certain types of food, and maybe that’s part of my problem… but not all of it, of course. I just happen to be living in the era before science has figured out how to neutralize all the bad stuff in red velvet cake and chicken scallopini.
Actually, I don’t mind confessing that I used to be a glutton. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that on both spiritual and physical levels, indiscriminate food consumption causes a lot of problems. So watching the amount I eat – not just watching what I eat (I’ve never had a problem viewing my food) – has become somewhat of a habit for me. Not a preoccupation, mind you, but at least a mealtime consideration.
The Theology of Food
Ever since Biblical times, alcohol abuse has been a thorn in the side of societies the world over, while gluttony has been an invisible vice. In fact, some cultures view gluttony as a sign of wealth or prestige, while others consider overeating a great compliment to one’s hostess. In places where freezing temperatures dictate most aspects of life, hearty eating actually helps keep people warm with layers of body fat – and surprisingly, some Arctic cultures have quite healthy diets despite their, um, insulation.
But have you ever thought about how food and eating play important roles in the Bible? Not simply as pleasures which can be abused, but as integral components of ceremonies, covenants, and other significant observances. Even the common meal, made with common staples, serves multiple purposes. Not only has God given His people the ability to grow, prepare, and enjoy a variety of gastronomic delights, but He’s actually ordained that these edible aspects of His creation be used to honor Him.
Back during college, our campus pastor used to talk about the theology of food. I don’t think he actually used the term “theology of food,” but Dr. Davey Naugle challenged us to consider all of the times God incorporates mealtime into significant Biblical events and observances. Whenever you sit down to eat – whether by yourself, with a couple of friends, a dinner table ringed with beloved family members, or a hotel banquet hall full of revelers, you participate in a type of ceremony in which God’s bounty, faithfulness, goodness, provision, and blessing can be found in abundance.
Even if it’s a scrap of stale bread in a prison camp, freeze-dried astronaut fare, or roasted insects in a tribal diet. There is a theology of food which points to our beneficent Creator and portrays His care for us and sovereignty over us. Our thanksgiving should be a mealtime event.
God designed virtually all components of His Earth to depend on something for their basic sustenance. Nourishment is part of nature. As the “rulers and subduers,” He equipped mankind both biologically and anatomically to be able to plant, harvest, kill, fish for, milk, prepare, and enjoy food; we can digest an amazing array of things; and we can store up for lean years and create distribution mechanisms to satiate hunger across the globe. Obviously, lesser animals can do these various tasks effectively for their species, but they can’t do all of them with the ability God has provided humans. Indeed, we sit atop an incredibly interwoven food chain.
Food, Feasting, and Faithfulness
At least eight Jewish feasts are mentioned in the Bible. Covenant meals, life-stage feasts (weddings, birthdays, funerals), and even the lavish dinner thrown by the Prodigal Son’s father all illustrate the prominent role food played in the Bible. Even the New Covenant, from which the New Testament Church can be traced, began at a meal.
Obviously, in Biblical times, preparing food for any meal consisted of considerable hard work and long hours. For most people, food wasn’t abundant enough to be taken for granted. And sugar wasn’t imported to the Holy Land until 642 AD, so imagine what some flavorings were like.
This past Monday marked the beginning of Passover, the Jewish celebration of the Exodus. As has become customary among a few of my friends, we met for a Seder dinner with all of the essential trimmings, but a decidedly Messianic flavor. We had a child ask the traditional Four Questions, we drank the Four Cups, but we had delicious, non-Kosher hand-rubbed roast lamb and pork.
We solemnly partook of the searing horseradish to get just a taste of the vile bitterness of our sin, we dipped parsley in salt water to recall the abject sorrow of the Israelites, and we drank the Fourth Cup with a toast to “Next year, in New Jerusalem!”
Ironically enough, when we had finished washing down the aftereffects of the horseradish, one of our friends confessed, “I actually like the taste of horseradish.” Which, if horseradish symbolizes sin, is true of us all, isn’t it?
Among all of the symbolism and traditions infused within the Seder include many references to the actual rituals of collecting, preparing, cooking, and eating food. Not just snacks and sandwiches, but full-blown feasts. In fact, the household is instructed in Exodus 12:16 to spend all day preparing for the Seder dinner.
During our Seder, each guest has been instructed in advance to prepare a short discourse on some aspect of the historic Passover and/or our observance of Holy Week. This year, one of our friends shared what she’d been learning about the Salt Covenant – something of which I’d never heard before. Part of the salt covenant involves people agreeing to engage into an agreement by mixing salt granules together, and if they want to leave the covenant in the future, they first have to reclaim all of the granules of salt that they had contributed to the mixture. Kind of impossible, right?
The American Diner
Of course today, many American families eat together as little as possible, and if they do manage to hit the dining table within minutes of each other, their delicacies include foodstuffs that require as little preparation as possible. Usually, that is not so much a reflection on the culinary expertise of cooks in the household, but simply the reality of the amount of time left over after all the details of our busy lives have been either completed or put on hold.
Here in Arlington, Texas, we’re known as one of the most restaurant-saturated cities in North America, because so many of us go out to eat so often. Blame it on having a suburban lifestyle between two large cities and four freeways. Eating out has become a social pastime here, even if most of our choices consist of national chain restaurants instead of hip fusion hotspots.
Wherever you eat, though, and whatever you eat, I think it would be helpful for all of us if people of faith took more time to recognize what sharing a meal symbolizes. We don’t need to wait for grand events and traditional family dinners to celebrate being together and acknowledging God’s goodness to us.
So… What’s for Dinner?
No matter what you’re having tonight, why not make dinner more intentional? Make the effort to get the kids around the table – at the same time, with you, and with the TV off and iPods in another room. Even if you’re dining on PP&Js, why not set out some lit candles on the table – they’re not just for romance. Eating out? Don’t let the waiter – or the lady with the mop at McDonalds – rush you along. And by all means – if you’ve dropped out of the habit of saying grace before each meal, do you really think you provided the food?
Whatever and wherever you’re eating tonight, make a point of marveling at how what you’re putting in your body has been provided to you today.
And go easy on the horseradish. Better yet, throw it out.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Liturgy Literally Enlivens
Day 41 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Passion Week - Holy Monday
Mention the term “liturgy” in most evangelical churches today and people respond with a visible shudder. Admit it – you probably slumped a bit when you saw the word in the title of today's essay.
Liturgy, liturgy, liturgy!
There – that has probably scared off a bunch of people now, don’t you think? Some scoff at liturgy as stuffy, smells-and-bells, Catholic-y stuff. Not just the creeds and confessions that liturgical churches use in their worship services - but all of the accouterments that traditionally accompany them.
Who needs formality and rigidity that nobody understands and contrasts so starkly against the world around us modern North Americans? It’s too easy to get swallowed up in liturgy and make it the focus of worship. Besides, it's not prescribed in the Bible, which makes it extra-Biblical, which makes it wrong.
Oh, Really?
Hmmm… Well, electricity isn’t mentioned in the Bible, but we all use it in our church buildings today. Come to think of it, church buildings aren’t mentioned in the Bible, either, but almost every church today has one, or is saving money to buy one. Let’s face it – being extra-Biblical doesn’t automatically disqualify something from being used in corporate worship.
For many evangelicals, the liturgy with which we’ve become most familiar takes place in traditional Catholic and Episcopal churches, where people genuflect towards a central crucifix and worship leaders wail Latin chants nobody understands. Wordy rites are recited out of standardized books, people automatically stand and sit and kneel according to a private code, and everything seems so… needlessly complex.
At the opposite extreme, some emergent churches have reawakened interest in liturgical practices to make the corporate worship of our Almighty Savior unnecessarily mysterious and unbiblically pagan. They are adopting methodologies of intrigue from the ancient church to intentionally craft a Harry Potter-esque cloak to shroud the mundane aspects of corporate worship. They want to extrapolate some sort of mystical experience out of what should be honest and overt.
Let’s face it – most evangelicals today don’t associate liturgy with biblical worship, which is a real shame. Many churchgoers have become so comfortable in their casual lifestyles and contemporary everything that liturgy has become counter-cultural. But isn't that part of its attraction? Just because our culture has gotten so casual, should we defer to it when it comes to our worship of God?
Granted, when we don’t know why we do something, it becomes meaningless, and therefore irrelevant. When we objectify rituals and subordinate the Gospel to them, we blaspheme the very Savior we claim to be worshipping. But can’t there be a happy medium? Can’t we find something more meaningful and significant than the freeze-dried corporate worship that many churches shrink-wrap and pass off as “relevant” every weekend?
Indeed, some experts point to the emergent church as a response to the bland manufacture of corporate worship in many congregations today. They point to the massive seeker and contemporary church movement from the past twenty years and an increasing disaffection among churchgoers to what was supposed to be a livelier, more spontaneous, modern-culture-oriented breakthrough in doing church. After the dust had settled, many congregations found their new stuff quickly becoming as mediocre as the old stuff – just louder, with jeans, and in buildings looking like warehouses.
Not that evangelicals should rush to embrace liturgy simply as a response to the lackluster contemporary experiment. Bouncing from one fad to another won’t solve much of anything. Instead, can’t evangelicals evaluate the benefits of liturgical worship on face value? After all, they’ve served Bible-confessing churches long before we came along.
Form Following Function
Without a clear understanding of the purpose for corporate worship, no church will have authentic corporate worship, so whether it’s also liturgical doesn’t really even matter. In the same way, having a liturgical service without a focus on the triune God is a waste of time.
Which points to what I consider to be one of the greatest fallacies in corporate worship today: the misplaced priority of the focus for corporate worship. Evangelical liturgicalism will make little sense if the audience of your church’s corporate worship is anyone other than God. Many churchgoers continue to labor under the false assumption that corporate worship is for unchurched, unsaved people. But unsaved people can’t worship, can they? Why take what could be a meaningful worship time for believers and chop away at the very things necessary for the adoration of our Creator to make it user-friendly for unsaved people? Is Sunday morning the only time during the week your church has to evangelize? Are your pastors and paid staff the only people who are allowed to evangelize? What do you think the rest of your week is for?
Christ wants to see us worshipping Him in spirit and truth. He is our reason for being alive and saved. Welcome the unsaved to our communities of faith, but understand they are not our reason for worshipping. We are to show them Who is.
Have you ever heard the phrase “form follows function?” It means that purpose dictates how something gets done. In the case of corporate worship, the purpose is the exaltation of our holy God, so logic (and the Bible) dictate that we seek those things that will glorify Him. Remember Psalm 29:2 and Psalm 96:9? We’re talking about glorifying God by being set apart (holiness). I didn’t make that up – read the scriptures if you don’t believe me.
This is where liturgy can play a valuable role. Rather than being an unnecessary adornment, liturgy can assist in focusing the congregation’s attentions, efforts, and desires away from worldly things and common distractions. Rather than being distractions in and of themselves, liturgical elements can symbolize Biblical concepts (ex., the crucifer), reinforce Christian best-practices (ex., confessions), and communicate Biblical truth (ex., creeds). They can also reposition the congregation from being merely an audience to becoming active participants within the components of the service.
User-Friendly Liturgy
Are you still struggling with the whole liturgy idea? Perhaps instead of thinking liturgy is either old-fashioned or stilted, maybe you just don’t understand it? Hey - that's nothing to be ashamed of these days; hardly any evangelical really knows much about liturgy anymore, since none of us have seen it practiced well in an evangelical setting. I don’t even claim to be an expert about it, but I know enough to say that its general relevance maintains all of the vigor and application it ever had.
Some people break down liturgy between high-church and low-church practices, but such stratification can easily make the eyes of many evangelicals simply glaze over. So I’m not going to deal with the heavy, elaborate side of liturgy that is considered “high.”
Instead, let’s consider some mild forms of liturgy and how effective they can be:
Creeds: Throughout the history of the evangelical church, groups of leaders have gathered and crafted documents professing statements of faith and explanations of doctrine. Over time, the best of these have risen to the top like cream, and today serve as significant illustrations of the work of the Holy Spirit among His people, oftentimes during periods of considerable duress. These doctrinal statements are called "creeds," and while they possess no divine revelation, they help explain why we believe what we believe. They also testify to the generational integrity of Christ's redemptive power from the New Testament Church to today.
Confession of Sin: What’s wrong with confessing the sins of omission and commission of the church body together?
Affirmation of Faith: By the same token, what’s wrong with affirming what we believe as a congregation?
Greeting of Peace: Usually, the greeting of peace consists of a recitation from the day’s preaching pastor of a scripture related to peaceful relationships. The congregation responds with “and also with you." What’s the point? If for some reason, you cannot “greet” your pastor in peace, you should meet with the pastor beforehand to clear up the matter. If you just mumble “and also with you” while harboring bitterness, you further compound the sin that is separating you. This is meant to serve as a weekly reminder to be in harmony with the leaders of your church.
Of course, the incorporation of liturgical elements in a corporate worship service can become quite elaborate, particularly if a church follows the Christian calendar, which covers all major New Testament Church observances.
Do you need liturgy to worship well? Of course not. But maybe if you’re looking for something to make corporate worship more relevant, significant, and purposeful, liturgy has the answers you thought it couldn’t provide.
Passion Week - Holy Monday
Mention the term “liturgy” in most evangelical churches today and people respond with a visible shudder. Admit it – you probably slumped a bit when you saw the word in the title of today's essay.
Liturgy, liturgy, liturgy!
There – that has probably scared off a bunch of people now, don’t you think? Some scoff at liturgy as stuffy, smells-and-bells, Catholic-y stuff. Not just the creeds and confessions that liturgical churches use in their worship services - but all of the accouterments that traditionally accompany them.
Who needs formality and rigidity that nobody understands and contrasts so starkly against the world around us modern North Americans? It’s too easy to get swallowed up in liturgy and make it the focus of worship. Besides, it's not prescribed in the Bible, which makes it extra-Biblical, which makes it wrong.
Oh, Really?
Hmmm… Well, electricity isn’t mentioned in the Bible, but we all use it in our church buildings today. Come to think of it, church buildings aren’t mentioned in the Bible, either, but almost every church today has one, or is saving money to buy one. Let’s face it – being extra-Biblical doesn’t automatically disqualify something from being used in corporate worship.
For many evangelicals, the liturgy with which we’ve become most familiar takes place in traditional Catholic and Episcopal churches, where people genuflect towards a central crucifix and worship leaders wail Latin chants nobody understands. Wordy rites are recited out of standardized books, people automatically stand and sit and kneel according to a private code, and everything seems so… needlessly complex.
At the opposite extreme, some emergent churches have reawakened interest in liturgical practices to make the corporate worship of our Almighty Savior unnecessarily mysterious and unbiblically pagan. They are adopting methodologies of intrigue from the ancient church to intentionally craft a Harry Potter-esque cloak to shroud the mundane aspects of corporate worship. They want to extrapolate some sort of mystical experience out of what should be honest and overt.
Let’s face it – most evangelicals today don’t associate liturgy with biblical worship, which is a real shame. Many churchgoers have become so comfortable in their casual lifestyles and contemporary everything that liturgy has become counter-cultural. But isn't that part of its attraction? Just because our culture has gotten so casual, should we defer to it when it comes to our worship of God?
Granted, when we don’t know why we do something, it becomes meaningless, and therefore irrelevant. When we objectify rituals and subordinate the Gospel to them, we blaspheme the very Savior we claim to be worshipping. But can’t there be a happy medium? Can’t we find something more meaningful and significant than the freeze-dried corporate worship that many churches shrink-wrap and pass off as “relevant” every weekend?
Indeed, some experts point to the emergent church as a response to the bland manufacture of corporate worship in many congregations today. They point to the massive seeker and contemporary church movement from the past twenty years and an increasing disaffection among churchgoers to what was supposed to be a livelier, more spontaneous, modern-culture-oriented breakthrough in doing church. After the dust had settled, many congregations found their new stuff quickly becoming as mediocre as the old stuff – just louder, with jeans, and in buildings looking like warehouses.
Not that evangelicals should rush to embrace liturgy simply as a response to the lackluster contemporary experiment. Bouncing from one fad to another won’t solve much of anything. Instead, can’t evangelicals evaluate the benefits of liturgical worship on face value? After all, they’ve served Bible-confessing churches long before we came along.
Form Following Function
Without a clear understanding of the purpose for corporate worship, no church will have authentic corporate worship, so whether it’s also liturgical doesn’t really even matter. In the same way, having a liturgical service without a focus on the triune God is a waste of time.
Which points to what I consider to be one of the greatest fallacies in corporate worship today: the misplaced priority of the focus for corporate worship. Evangelical liturgicalism will make little sense if the audience of your church’s corporate worship is anyone other than God. Many churchgoers continue to labor under the false assumption that corporate worship is for unchurched, unsaved people. But unsaved people can’t worship, can they? Why take what could be a meaningful worship time for believers and chop away at the very things necessary for the adoration of our Creator to make it user-friendly for unsaved people? Is Sunday morning the only time during the week your church has to evangelize? Are your pastors and paid staff the only people who are allowed to evangelize? What do you think the rest of your week is for?
Christ wants to see us worshipping Him in spirit and truth. He is our reason for being alive and saved. Welcome the unsaved to our communities of faith, but understand they are not our reason for worshipping. We are to show them Who is.
Have you ever heard the phrase “form follows function?” It means that purpose dictates how something gets done. In the case of corporate worship, the purpose is the exaltation of our holy God, so logic (and the Bible) dictate that we seek those things that will glorify Him. Remember Psalm 29:2 and Psalm 96:9? We’re talking about glorifying God by being set apart (holiness). I didn’t make that up – read the scriptures if you don’t believe me.
This is where liturgy can play a valuable role. Rather than being an unnecessary adornment, liturgy can assist in focusing the congregation’s attentions, efforts, and desires away from worldly things and common distractions. Rather than being distractions in and of themselves, liturgical elements can symbolize Biblical concepts (ex., the crucifer), reinforce Christian best-practices (ex., confessions), and communicate Biblical truth (ex., creeds). They can also reposition the congregation from being merely an audience to becoming active participants within the components of the service.
User-Friendly Liturgy
Are you still struggling with the whole liturgy idea? Perhaps instead of thinking liturgy is either old-fashioned or stilted, maybe you just don’t understand it? Hey - that's nothing to be ashamed of these days; hardly any evangelical really knows much about liturgy anymore, since none of us have seen it practiced well in an evangelical setting. I don’t even claim to be an expert about it, but I know enough to say that its general relevance maintains all of the vigor and application it ever had.
Some people break down liturgy between high-church and low-church practices, but such stratification can easily make the eyes of many evangelicals simply glaze over. So I’m not going to deal with the heavy, elaborate side of liturgy that is considered “high.”
Instead, let’s consider some mild forms of liturgy and how effective they can be:
Creeds: Throughout the history of the evangelical church, groups of leaders have gathered and crafted documents professing statements of faith and explanations of doctrine. Over time, the best of these have risen to the top like cream, and today serve as significant illustrations of the work of the Holy Spirit among His people, oftentimes during periods of considerable duress. These doctrinal statements are called "creeds," and while they possess no divine revelation, they help explain why we believe what we believe. They also testify to the generational integrity of Christ's redemptive power from the New Testament Church to today.
Confession of Sin: What’s wrong with confessing the sins of omission and commission of the church body together?
Affirmation of Faith: By the same token, what’s wrong with affirming what we believe as a congregation?
Greeting of Peace: Usually, the greeting of peace consists of a recitation from the day’s preaching pastor of a scripture related to peaceful relationships. The congregation responds with “and also with you." What’s the point? If for some reason, you cannot “greet” your pastor in peace, you should meet with the pastor beforehand to clear up the matter. If you just mumble “and also with you” while harboring bitterness, you further compound the sin that is separating you. This is meant to serve as a weekly reminder to be in harmony with the leaders of your church.
Of course, the incorporation of liturgical elements in a corporate worship service can become quite elaborate, particularly if a church follows the Christian calendar, which covers all major New Testament Church observances.
Do you need liturgy to worship well? Of course not. But maybe if you’re looking for something to make corporate worship more relevant, significant, and purposeful, liturgy has the answers you thought it couldn’t provide.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Christoph Niemann's Digital Colloquialism
Day 38 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Show and Tell
Have you ever admired Google’s maps? I mean, have you ever stopped to consider not only what a technical marvel they are, with the spider’s web of streets scrolling along by just putting in an address or landmark, but also the aesthetic quality of their colors and shapes?
Neither had I, until a good friend sent me a link to the artwork of Christoph Niemann. I mean, for years I’ve been amazed at how accurate Google’s maps have proven to be, and when they superimpose the satellite images, you wonder what mankind won’t think of next. But the artistic merit of those smooth, tube-like streets and soothing colors didn’t really strike me until seeing Niemann’s work.
And it’s not just Google’s maps that Niemann has been able to turn into art. His non-pixelated, digital pen has become for 21st Century graphic humorists what Sharpies were to 20th Century cartoonists. Scoff at his technological invasion of the craft if you like, but Niemann has been able to carve out a surprisingly compelling medium with a computer and imaging software.
What Does "Digital Colloquial" Mean?
I haven’t been able to find a term for Niemann’s style, so I’ll call it “digital colloquial” since it has the crispness and polish of modern iconography set to a popular theme, with nuances of current social commentary thrown in for good measure.
He’s already won awards for his work, has published several books, and is virtually an artist-in-residence for several New York periodicals. At the age of 40, Niemann has grown up around technology long enough to be a master at digital design, while also being old enough to have a finely developed wit and satirical observation skills.
For my long-suffering friends who tire easily of my references to New York City, please bear with me, but anybody who has ever tried driving into Manhattan from New Jersey through the Lincoln Tunnel can appreciate Niemann’s take on the convoluted route:
And although I doubt Niemann had America’s current healthcare debate in mind when he crafted this image below, can’t you see how "drowning in red ink" takes on an even more sinister - yet appropriate - theme? Bleeding taxpayers to death had yielded the red ink an officious person is going to use for writing an important document:
Niemann may be best known for his downright creative “Bio-Diversity” series, in which he took scissors to leaves and created amazingly simple humor:
Be honest, now: have you ever seen a leaf and thought, "that looks just like a bolt"? Leaves themselves can be considered works of art - except when hundreds of thousands of them fall on your yard every autumn. Can you see the genius of taking what most of us consider ordinary byproducts of tree exfoliation and re-using them so creatively? Talk about recycling!
Show and Tell
Have you ever admired Google’s maps? I mean, have you ever stopped to consider not only what a technical marvel they are, with the spider’s web of streets scrolling along by just putting in an address or landmark, but also the aesthetic quality of their colors and shapes?
Neither had I, until a good friend sent me a link to the artwork of Christoph Niemann. I mean, for years I’ve been amazed at how accurate Google’s maps have proven to be, and when they superimpose the satellite images, you wonder what mankind won’t think of next. But the artistic merit of those smooth, tube-like streets and soothing colors didn’t really strike me until seeing Niemann’s work.
And it’s not just Google’s maps that Niemann has been able to turn into art. His non-pixelated, digital pen has become for 21st Century graphic humorists what Sharpies were to 20th Century cartoonists. Scoff at his technological invasion of the craft if you like, but Niemann has been able to carve out a surprisingly compelling medium with a computer and imaging software.
What Does "Digital Colloquial" Mean?
I haven’t been able to find a term for Niemann’s style, so I’ll call it “digital colloquial” since it has the crispness and polish of modern iconography set to a popular theme, with nuances of current social commentary thrown in for good measure.
He’s already won awards for his work, has published several books, and is virtually an artist-in-residence for several New York periodicals. At the age of 40, Niemann has grown up around technology long enough to be a master at digital design, while also being old enough to have a finely developed wit and satirical observation skills.
For my long-suffering friends who tire easily of my references to New York City, please bear with me, but anybody who has ever tried driving into Manhattan from New Jersey through the Lincoln Tunnel can appreciate Niemann’s take on the convoluted route:
And although I doubt Niemann had America’s current healthcare debate in mind when he crafted this image below, can’t you see how "drowning in red ink" takes on an even more sinister - yet appropriate - theme? Bleeding taxpayers to death had yielded the red ink an officious person is going to use for writing an important document:
Niemann may be best known for his downright creative “Bio-Diversity” series, in which he took scissors to leaves and created amazingly simple humor:
Be honest, now: have you ever seen a leaf and thought, "that looks just like a bolt"? Leaves themselves can be considered works of art - except when hundreds of thousands of them fall on your yard every autumn. Can you see the genius of taking what most of us consider ordinary byproducts of tree exfoliation and re-using them so creatively? Talk about recycling! Of course, he's an artist, so not all of Niemann's work is politically correct. There's a digital composition of cigarette butts shaped as the symbols for major world religions which I consider to be in very bad taste, but at least Niemann's an equal-opportunity blasphemer. Another image portrays "W" as a blockhead - with literally a stone cube above the shoulders. And accurately enough, one of his New Yorker covers depicts Asian "Rosie the Riveters" sewing American flags.
Which considering Niemann is a German, somehow makes ironic sense.
All images (c) copyright Christoph Niemann
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
'Tis the Season... for Texas Twisters
Day 36 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Ten years ago this coming Sunday, towards the end of the evening rush hour, a tornadic system tore through Fort Worth and Arlington, Texas, killing two people and causing half a billion dollars of damage.
One skyscraper in downtown Fort Worth received such extensive damage its owners nearly tore it down before deciding to convert it from offices into luxury apartments. Destruction along portions of the city’s aging West Seventh Street area resulted in a brand-new neighborhood between Fort Worth’s world-class cultural district and its popular downtown.
Lying due east of Fort Worth, the city of Arlington received a second tornado that skipped around two neighborhoods south of the bustling I-20 corridor. For hours into the night, eight lanes of traffic sat still in darkness as downed power lines laced the freeway.
When daylight arrived, the full scope of destruction could be seen, from the spooky pock-marked towers of downtown Fort Worth to the mangled mess of suburban homes ripped apart just a few blocks from where I live.
Two days later, I joined some co-workers on a workday to help clean up the rubble here in Arlington. The city had already made one pass through the affected neighborhoods, making sure everybody had been accounted for, utilities were safely shut off, and emergency vehicles could get through. But the amount of destruction represented too momentous a chore for each family to accomplish by themselves, so volunteers were enlisted to help remove debris and even assist homeowners with personal tasks like recovering furniture and cookware.
I’m not sure I’d want a bunch of strangers poking around my home, even if they were just there to help. But with the shock of what had happened and the sheer magnitude of rebuilding they were facing, I guess most homeowners figured what more did they have to lose?
After my experiences of that day, I wrote an op-ed piece for our local newspaper (you remember, those thin paper bundles whose ink got all over your fingers?) Ten years ago, newspapers were still the main distribution method for local news.
As we near the tenth anniversary of the 2000 tornado, I thought maybe another look at the article might be appropriate – even as I watch the clouds thicken and darken on this humid afternoon, with strong storms in the forecast for this evening.
Did Class Come Into Play in Post-Tornado Arlington?
Originally printed in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram - April 10, 2000
Were you as stunned as I was to learn about the tornadoes that tore through southeast Arlington? Things like that don’t happen here. Traffic jams at Krispy Kreme happen in Arlington; major natural disasters happen someplace else.
By now we all know that natural disasters do happen here. The March 28 tornado could have been worse, but it was bad enough. Although our own taste of tornadic weather wreaked havoc upon plenty of Arlington families, it also provided an excellent laboratory for studying and improving our preparedness and response for the next disaster that the skies may have in store.
In that spirit, I’d like to comment on the response to this disaster rendered by the city and various other organizations. I participated as a volunteer in two economically distinct neighborhoods flanking Matlock Road, and the disparities in public and private assistance between the two neighborhoods were clear.
On the morning of March 30, armed with lawn tools and a power saw, some co-workers and I trudged into what looked like a war zone. In reality, it was what was left of the upper-middle-class Chasemore Lane neighborhood. Chunks of roofs had been ripped away, windows blown out, vehicles tossed around like toys, and fences ripped from the ground.
The city’s presence amid all this destruction appeared impressive – dump trucks, bulldozers and other equipment created a cacophony of commotion. Police were everywhere: on foot, motorcycles, and in squad cars. In fact, we had to go through three checkpoints to get in, and every vehicle had to have a color-coded permit. The Red Cross staffed two vans offering hot food, but we opted to have lunch at the abundantly stocked table set up by Farmers Insurance.
After lunch, I returned to my regular job while my volunteer co-workers went to work on Embercrest Drive, west of Matlock. A couple of hours later, I was called back to help a family being forced to leave their condemned home. They needed someone to drive them to Mission Arlington.
When I turned onto their street, it was like a different world from the Chasemore neighborhood. Embercrest Drive presented a scene of nearly complete devastation. The homes there are much smaller and more densely spaced than those in the Chasemore neighborhood, which probably accounted for some of the visual disarray. They’re also less expensive, and probably not as well insured.
I saw at least two homes with nothing more standing than a few interior walls. Debris was everywhere; I could barely see the ground.
Among all this destruction, I saw many volunteers, including roving bands of Mormon teenagers who made quick work of whatever project they encountered. TV and radio crews seemed to be everywhere. A co-worker of mine said he’d been interviewed three times just that afternoon.
What amazed me more than the destruction, though, was the apparent lack of city personnel along Embercrest. I did find one city worker putting out bins of ice and bottled water, and occasionally a police car would cruise down the street, but there were no security checkpoints to discourage looting, and curious rubber-neckers clogged the street.
A lone Red Cross truck had hungry volunteers waiting in a long line among stacks of debris waiting to be carted away. Although insurance agents were swarming over the Chasemore neighborhood, not one could be seen along Embercrest. I also learned later that some upscale restaurants set up hospitality tables along Chasemore Lane, but we never saw them on Embercrest.
This is Arlington’s first major tornado disaster, so a considerable amount of leniency should be extended for the inequitable response to these two disparate neighborhoods. Resources may have been limited, and initial volunteer efforts may have been disorganized. And I suppose it’s only fair for restaurants to promote themselves where a larger percentage of their customer base resides.
Still, it’s troubling to see people – despite their concern – disproportionately skew their otherwise noble efforts toward the wealthier side of the tracks.
The outpouring of concern and assistance from people across the Metroplex has been encouraging to see. Still, shades of class distinction have shadowed even the best of intentions.
Let’s take the opportunity to not only review and improve our strategies for response, assessment, and protection, but also to remember that economic class cannot be even a subconscious criterion for meting out sorely needed resources. We’re all residents of Arlington, and we all deserve equitable support from the municipal employees, private companies, and volunteers who make this city a great place to live for all of us.
Ten years ago this coming Sunday, towards the end of the evening rush hour, a tornadic system tore through Fort Worth and Arlington, Texas, killing two people and causing half a billion dollars of damage.
One skyscraper in downtown Fort Worth received such extensive damage its owners nearly tore it down before deciding to convert it from offices into luxury apartments. Destruction along portions of the city’s aging West Seventh Street area resulted in a brand-new neighborhood between Fort Worth’s world-class cultural district and its popular downtown.
Lying due east of Fort Worth, the city of Arlington received a second tornado that skipped around two neighborhoods south of the bustling I-20 corridor. For hours into the night, eight lanes of traffic sat still in darkness as downed power lines laced the freeway.
When daylight arrived, the full scope of destruction could be seen, from the spooky pock-marked towers of downtown Fort Worth to the mangled mess of suburban homes ripped apart just a few blocks from where I live.
Two days later, I joined some co-workers on a workday to help clean up the rubble here in Arlington. The city had already made one pass through the affected neighborhoods, making sure everybody had been accounted for, utilities were safely shut off, and emergency vehicles could get through. But the amount of destruction represented too momentous a chore for each family to accomplish by themselves, so volunteers were enlisted to help remove debris and even assist homeowners with personal tasks like recovering furniture and cookware.
I’m not sure I’d want a bunch of strangers poking around my home, even if they were just there to help. But with the shock of what had happened and the sheer magnitude of rebuilding they were facing, I guess most homeowners figured what more did they have to lose?
After my experiences of that day, I wrote an op-ed piece for our local newspaper (you remember, those thin paper bundles whose ink got all over your fingers?) Ten years ago, newspapers were still the main distribution method for local news.
As we near the tenth anniversary of the 2000 tornado, I thought maybe another look at the article might be appropriate – even as I watch the clouds thicken and darken on this humid afternoon, with strong storms in the forecast for this evening.
Did Class Come Into Play in Post-Tornado Arlington?
Originally printed in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram - April 10, 2000
Were you as stunned as I was to learn about the tornadoes that tore through southeast Arlington? Things like that don’t happen here. Traffic jams at Krispy Kreme happen in Arlington; major natural disasters happen someplace else.
By now we all know that natural disasters do happen here. The March 28 tornado could have been worse, but it was bad enough. Although our own taste of tornadic weather wreaked havoc upon plenty of Arlington families, it also provided an excellent laboratory for studying and improving our preparedness and response for the next disaster that the skies may have in store.
In that spirit, I’d like to comment on the response to this disaster rendered by the city and various other organizations. I participated as a volunteer in two economically distinct neighborhoods flanking Matlock Road, and the disparities in public and private assistance between the two neighborhoods were clear.
On the morning of March 30, armed with lawn tools and a power saw, some co-workers and I trudged into what looked like a war zone. In reality, it was what was left of the upper-middle-class Chasemore Lane neighborhood. Chunks of roofs had been ripped away, windows blown out, vehicles tossed around like toys, and fences ripped from the ground.
The city’s presence amid all this destruction appeared impressive – dump trucks, bulldozers and other equipment created a cacophony of commotion. Police were everywhere: on foot, motorcycles, and in squad cars. In fact, we had to go through three checkpoints to get in, and every vehicle had to have a color-coded permit. The Red Cross staffed two vans offering hot food, but we opted to have lunch at the abundantly stocked table set up by Farmers Insurance.
After lunch, I returned to my regular job while my volunteer co-workers went to work on Embercrest Drive, west of Matlock. A couple of hours later, I was called back to help a family being forced to leave their condemned home. They needed someone to drive them to Mission Arlington.
When I turned onto their street, it was like a different world from the Chasemore neighborhood. Embercrest Drive presented a scene of nearly complete devastation. The homes there are much smaller and more densely spaced than those in the Chasemore neighborhood, which probably accounted for some of the visual disarray. They’re also less expensive, and probably not as well insured.
I saw at least two homes with nothing more standing than a few interior walls. Debris was everywhere; I could barely see the ground.
Among all this destruction, I saw many volunteers, including roving bands of Mormon teenagers who made quick work of whatever project they encountered. TV and radio crews seemed to be everywhere. A co-worker of mine said he’d been interviewed three times just that afternoon.
What amazed me more than the destruction, though, was the apparent lack of city personnel along Embercrest. I did find one city worker putting out bins of ice and bottled water, and occasionally a police car would cruise down the street, but there were no security checkpoints to discourage looting, and curious rubber-neckers clogged the street.
A lone Red Cross truck had hungry volunteers waiting in a long line among stacks of debris waiting to be carted away. Although insurance agents were swarming over the Chasemore neighborhood, not one could be seen along Embercrest. I also learned later that some upscale restaurants set up hospitality tables along Chasemore Lane, but we never saw them on Embercrest.
This is Arlington’s first major tornado disaster, so a considerable amount of leniency should be extended for the inequitable response to these two disparate neighborhoods. Resources may have been limited, and initial volunteer efforts may have been disorganized. And I suppose it’s only fair for restaurants to promote themselves where a larger percentage of their customer base resides.
Still, it’s troubling to see people – despite their concern – disproportionately skew their otherwise noble efforts toward the wealthier side of the tracks.
The outpouring of concern and assistance from people across the Metroplex has been encouraging to see. Still, shades of class distinction have shadowed even the best of intentions.
Let’s take the opportunity to not only review and improve our strategies for response, assessment, and protection, but also to remember that economic class cannot be even a subconscious criterion for meting out sorely needed resources. We’re all residents of Arlington, and we all deserve equitable support from the municipal employees, private companies, and volunteers who make this city a great place to live for all of us.
Monday, March 22, 2010
When Opposites Befriend
Day 34 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Are you opinionated? Do you find it difficult to separate issues from the people who promote them? Sometimes we hold opinions so strongly that we can’t see the other side for all of our pontificating. Or, maybe that's just me?
True, we need to think through issues and evaluate ideas based on intellect and logic. But in the heady world of thought and analysis, we can’t forget the human element.
You may recall a short series of essays I wrote about church music and the popular trend of incorporating contemporary Christian music (CCM) into corporate worship services. Well, for all my bluster on the subject, I neglected to acknowledge the human side of the equation, and the respect I held for a CCM proponent who served in a church I used to attend.
The church was Pantego Bible Church, now located in Fort Worth. For a few years in the 1990's, I worked in their accounting office while Kevin Walker was music pastor. Several years ago, he moved to Colorado to start a musicians' mentoring ministry for CCM workers.
This past weekend, Kevin passed away after suffering from cancer, only a few years older than I. As I've reminisced about his life and ministry, I’ve been reminded that although I hold strong views on controversial topics, I can’t ignore people of similar conscience whose opinions stand in stark contrast.
Kevin Walker
In some ways, Kevin was not your typical CCM musician. He wasn’t particularly stylish or hip. He wasn’t a showman, nor could he read music. He was balding… well, OK, bald. Indeed, it was said that when he started cancer treatments, Kevin quipped that at least his hair wouldn’t fall out!
In other ways, Kevin’s music typified the very characteristics of CCM that drive me nuts: inane repetition, incessant beat, saccharine rhymes, and noise. It was no secret that when I attended and worked at Pantego, I intentionally arrived at worship services late to avoid most of the music.
But as much as I disliked his craft, I found Kevin himself to be a warm, sincere, humble, witty, and servant-hearted person who, unlike me, never criticized or complained. We were never close, and I haven’t seen him in years, but during the time I worked at Pantego, I quickly and easily came to respect him for his understanding of the Gospel and his love for people.
He knew I wasn’t crazy about CCM, but he never pushed me on that topic. Indeed, a lot of people at church didn’t like what was going on in the music ministry, but he worked within the realm of differing opinions and won over a lot of us with his aw-shucks demeanor.
Kevin worked long, hard hours. He composed most of the music sung at Pantego, and their content and theology were much stronger than most of the fluff I heard other churches doing. The songs in which he put Scriptures to music served as an easy way to memorize those passages.
And of course, Kevin’s tenure at Pantego occurred during the whole upheaval of the seeker movement in evangelical churches across North America. A lot of the vitriol aimed in his direction wasn’t intended for him per say, but at all of the changes in general. That’s part of the price any music director faces as being the visible representation of corporate worship in a church. But Kevin faced the rancor and frustration with amazing amounts of grace.
Agree to Disagree
Of course, some people think that if you don’t like their music, you really can’t relate to the musician, since they’re intrinsically part of each other. To a certain degree, for some musicians, that may be the case, but with Kevin, I’m comfortable in assuming that the relationship we had while we were both at Pantego existed to a great degree in spite of our personal preferences and differences. After all, can’t we disagree on processes and functionality while still being appreciative of another person? Must we necessarily disassociate ourselves based on unshared opinions or viewpoints? What is the extent to which personal convictions unnecessarily drive wedges between people?
Do you see where I’m going with this? A lot of conservatives, which means a lot of evangelicals, have been worked up into a froth lately over the healthcare reform vote. Indeed, there has been considerable animosity on both sides of the debate. Some might shrug their shoulders and say that’s how politics gets done in America these days, but the level of vitriol exchanged in the debate has risen to levels unbecoming civilized society. This past weekend, some reform opponents even shouted the n-word to black representatives as they arrived on Capitol Hill. To use such a despicable term belies a temperament woefully devoid of care, respect, and integrity.
Part of me wonders, though, if there were any evangelical Christians who voted for the healthcare reform bill, or at least supported it? Sometimes we white evangelicals forget that faith is color-blind and apolitical. How much of the animosity some of us have been fostering towards liberal Democrats has actually been directed at brothers and sisters in Christ who have a different opinion on this issue? It’s one thing to take a position on legislation – we have the constitutional freedom to do that. We also have the constitutional freedom to aggressively display our emotions, but we don’t necessarily have that right Biblically, do we? Especially not to fellow members in our broader community of faith.
Finding Similarities Among the Differences
Now, would it be too much of a stretch to suggest that the way I respected Kevin despite our significant differences should be a model for respectable political discourse? I’m not perfect, and the only reason Kevin is perfect is because he’s now in the presence of Christ. In His sovereignty, God placed the two of us in our respective positions at Pantego for a variety of reasons, and I believe one of those was for me to learn a thing or two about how to value a person on multiple levels. It's not quite the same as having different viewpoints on the purpose of government, but isn't the point still valid?
This past weekend, God called Kevin to his eternal reward, and He also ordained that a highly controversial vote would fall against the opinions held by many evangelicals. Some people come back from both events and console themselves by reminding us that “God is still in control,” which, of course, is true.
But it was true before Kevin passed away, it was true during the healthcare vote, and it’s just as true today. It’s not just a calming reassurance, it’s reality that holds true regardless of whether we like or don't like the things that happen.
Someday in Heaven, I’ll see Kevin – although I may not recognize him if God gives him a full head of hair (for the record, I still had hair when Kevin knew me). Won’t yesterday’s vote probably be a distant memory, too?
Meanwhile, will all the baggage we may carry around between now and then be worth the weight?
Are you opinionated? Do you find it difficult to separate issues from the people who promote them? Sometimes we hold opinions so strongly that we can’t see the other side for all of our pontificating. Or, maybe that's just me?
True, we need to think through issues and evaluate ideas based on intellect and logic. But in the heady world of thought and analysis, we can’t forget the human element.
You may recall a short series of essays I wrote about church music and the popular trend of incorporating contemporary Christian music (CCM) into corporate worship services. Well, for all my bluster on the subject, I neglected to acknowledge the human side of the equation, and the respect I held for a CCM proponent who served in a church I used to attend.
The church was Pantego Bible Church, now located in Fort Worth. For a few years in the 1990's, I worked in their accounting office while Kevin Walker was music pastor. Several years ago, he moved to Colorado to start a musicians' mentoring ministry for CCM workers.
This past weekend, Kevin passed away after suffering from cancer, only a few years older than I. As I've reminisced about his life and ministry, I’ve been reminded that although I hold strong views on controversial topics, I can’t ignore people of similar conscience whose opinions stand in stark contrast.
Kevin Walker
In some ways, Kevin was not your typical CCM musician. He wasn’t particularly stylish or hip. He wasn’t a showman, nor could he read music. He was balding… well, OK, bald. Indeed, it was said that when he started cancer treatments, Kevin quipped that at least his hair wouldn’t fall out!
In other ways, Kevin’s music typified the very characteristics of CCM that drive me nuts: inane repetition, incessant beat, saccharine rhymes, and noise. It was no secret that when I attended and worked at Pantego, I intentionally arrived at worship services late to avoid most of the music.
But as much as I disliked his craft, I found Kevin himself to be a warm, sincere, humble, witty, and servant-hearted person who, unlike me, never criticized or complained. We were never close, and I haven’t seen him in years, but during the time I worked at Pantego, I quickly and easily came to respect him for his understanding of the Gospel and his love for people.
He knew I wasn’t crazy about CCM, but he never pushed me on that topic. Indeed, a lot of people at church didn’t like what was going on in the music ministry, but he worked within the realm of differing opinions and won over a lot of us with his aw-shucks demeanor.
Kevin worked long, hard hours. He composed most of the music sung at Pantego, and their content and theology were much stronger than most of the fluff I heard other churches doing. The songs in which he put Scriptures to music served as an easy way to memorize those passages.
And of course, Kevin’s tenure at Pantego occurred during the whole upheaval of the seeker movement in evangelical churches across North America. A lot of the vitriol aimed in his direction wasn’t intended for him per say, but at all of the changes in general. That’s part of the price any music director faces as being the visible representation of corporate worship in a church. But Kevin faced the rancor and frustration with amazing amounts of grace.
Agree to Disagree
Of course, some people think that if you don’t like their music, you really can’t relate to the musician, since they’re intrinsically part of each other. To a certain degree, for some musicians, that may be the case, but with Kevin, I’m comfortable in assuming that the relationship we had while we were both at Pantego existed to a great degree in spite of our personal preferences and differences. After all, can’t we disagree on processes and functionality while still being appreciative of another person? Must we necessarily disassociate ourselves based on unshared opinions or viewpoints? What is the extent to which personal convictions unnecessarily drive wedges between people?
Do you see where I’m going with this? A lot of conservatives, which means a lot of evangelicals, have been worked up into a froth lately over the healthcare reform vote. Indeed, there has been considerable animosity on both sides of the debate. Some might shrug their shoulders and say that’s how politics gets done in America these days, but the level of vitriol exchanged in the debate has risen to levels unbecoming civilized society. This past weekend, some reform opponents even shouted the n-word to black representatives as they arrived on Capitol Hill. To use such a despicable term belies a temperament woefully devoid of care, respect, and integrity.
Part of me wonders, though, if there were any evangelical Christians who voted for the healthcare reform bill, or at least supported it? Sometimes we white evangelicals forget that faith is color-blind and apolitical. How much of the animosity some of us have been fostering towards liberal Democrats has actually been directed at brothers and sisters in Christ who have a different opinion on this issue? It’s one thing to take a position on legislation – we have the constitutional freedom to do that. We also have the constitutional freedom to aggressively display our emotions, but we don’t necessarily have that right Biblically, do we? Especially not to fellow members in our broader community of faith.
Finding Similarities Among the Differences
Now, would it be too much of a stretch to suggest that the way I respected Kevin despite our significant differences should be a model for respectable political discourse? I’m not perfect, and the only reason Kevin is perfect is because he’s now in the presence of Christ. In His sovereignty, God placed the two of us in our respective positions at Pantego for a variety of reasons, and I believe one of those was for me to learn a thing or two about how to value a person on multiple levels. It's not quite the same as having different viewpoints on the purpose of government, but isn't the point still valid?
This past weekend, God called Kevin to his eternal reward, and He also ordained that a highly controversial vote would fall against the opinions held by many evangelicals. Some people come back from both events and console themselves by reminding us that “God is still in control,” which, of course, is true.
But it was true before Kevin passed away, it was true during the healthcare vote, and it’s just as true today. It’s not just a calming reassurance, it’s reality that holds true regardless of whether we like or don't like the things that happen.
Someday in Heaven, I’ll see Kevin – although I may not recognize him if God gives him a full head of hair (for the record, I still had hair when Kevin knew me). Won’t yesterday’s vote probably be a distant memory, too?
Meanwhile, will all the baggage we may carry around between now and then be worth the weight?
Friday, March 19, 2010
Ed and Me
Day 31 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Show and Tell
“Wow – who’s that old guy?” you may be asking. Not the guy with the glasses; the man wearing the suit and tie.
I’m the guy in the glasses, and the fellow to the right of my photo is the inimitable Ed Koch, New York City's 105th mayor back in the late 1970's and 1980’s and still one of the city’s most die-hard supporters.
Koch’s mayoral administration inherited a bankrupt city heaving in the throws of middle-class flight. Crime stalked virtually everybody, infrastructure was literally falling apart, and experts saw the city’s future as being darker than the polluted East River.
He's No Mr. Ed
During his roller-coaster three-term tenure, however, Koch managed to right the city's abysmal finances, staunch much of the middle-class and corporate flight from the city, and reinvigorate the pride New Yorkers thought had also fled. Ultimately, though, political corruption within his administration cost Koch his hoped-for fourth term to the elegant, soft-spoken David Dinkins (who I met once, btw, on the steps of City Hall when I was an intern).
Even if you couldn’t stand his liberal biases, you had to admire the sheer chutzpah with which the Bronx-born Koch dove into his job. Single and childless, he seemed to have all the time in the world to devote to salvaging his hometown. Everywhere he went, he’d stop people on the street or in building lobbies and bluntly quiz them: “Hey – How’m I doin’?”
Unlike those who considered suburbia Eden, Koch embraced the city New York was evolving into – a city whose apex had already crested in terms of its economic might and the hometown for most of America's corporations. People and headquarters were gone and not coming back, so Koch helped the Big Apple re-confront the diversity which had made it great to begin with. Most of the renewed interest in central-city employment and living that has reversed dying urban areas all over North America during the last decade can ultimately be traced to Ed Koch and his simple yet controversial recipe for making lemonade out of lemons.
Maybe another mayor during those 12 years could have done a better job. But New York didn’t have another mayor, it had Koch. And certainly, a lot of people could have done a lot worse than he did. Koch was and is a liberal, but a liberal with a better grasp on reality than most of his ilk. For example, he is a staunch supporter of current celebrity mayor Michael Bloomberg, a Republican, although some dismiss him as a Democrat in Republican clothing. Koch also opposed affirmative action, saying that it was demeaning to minorities since it assumed they intrinsically needed extra help to get and keep a job.
Author, Author!
So why did I strike an Ed Koch pose in the picture to the left? Many of my friends believe I’m another Democrat in Republican garb, but that’s not why I was trying to look like Koch.
Actually, I didn’t have anybody in mind when that picture was taken. My editor at Crosswalk.com needed a photo for my inaugural article to appear on her site next Tuesday, and I don't like having my picture taken and was goofing off. It wasn't until she sent me the image file that I realized the resemblance to Hizzonor (what New Yorkers call their mayors). That is the real reason I’m posting this picture here on Show-and-Tell day! This is my way of announcing that I’ll be a published Internet author as of next week.
I have to qualify that because I’m already a paid, published author. Back when I was in high school, my aunt was working for a textbook company in Greenwich Village, and they needed a story about the old west for one of their books. She suggested that one of her nephews in Texas could write it, and they paid me the princely sum of $35 to do so. Of course, I don’t have a copy of what I wrote for them, but I remember it had something to do with a horse pumping water with one of those old hand pumps. The story I wrote doesn't matter anyway, because when they got ahold of it, they edited the living daylight out of it so I could barely recognize it when my aunt sent me the final version. Leave it to a bunch of New York City editors to re-write a story about the Wild West from their offices in Greenwich Village.
Of course, that all took place during the Koch administration, back when vast stretches of New York could probably have been considered as violent and lawless as the Wild West reputedly was. So maybe those editors weren’t as disconnected from my story as I thought.
I invite you to look for my article on Crosswalk.com this coming Tuesday. It’s the first in a five-part series on singles in the church. Whether you’re single, married, or something in-between, hopefully you can get something out of it.
And then you can tell me "how I'm doin'!"
Show and Tell
“Wow – who’s that old guy?” you may be asking. Not the guy with the glasses; the man wearing the suit and tie.
I’m the guy in the glasses, and the fellow to the right of my photo is the inimitable Ed Koch, New York City's 105th mayor back in the late 1970's and 1980’s and still one of the city’s most die-hard supporters.
Koch’s mayoral administration inherited a bankrupt city heaving in the throws of middle-class flight. Crime stalked virtually everybody, infrastructure was literally falling apart, and experts saw the city’s future as being darker than the polluted East River.
He's No Mr. Ed
During his roller-coaster three-term tenure, however, Koch managed to right the city's abysmal finances, staunch much of the middle-class and corporate flight from the city, and reinvigorate the pride New Yorkers thought had also fled. Ultimately, though, political corruption within his administration cost Koch his hoped-for fourth term to the elegant, soft-spoken David Dinkins (who I met once, btw, on the steps of City Hall when I was an intern).
Even if you couldn’t stand his liberal biases, you had to admire the sheer chutzpah with which the Bronx-born Koch dove into his job. Single and childless, he seemed to have all the time in the world to devote to salvaging his hometown. Everywhere he went, he’d stop people on the street or in building lobbies and bluntly quiz them: “Hey – How’m I doin’?”
Unlike those who considered suburbia Eden, Koch embraced the city New York was evolving into – a city whose apex had already crested in terms of its economic might and the hometown for most of America's corporations. People and headquarters were gone and not coming back, so Koch helped the Big Apple re-confront the diversity which had made it great to begin with. Most of the renewed interest in central-city employment and living that has reversed dying urban areas all over North America during the last decade can ultimately be traced to Ed Koch and his simple yet controversial recipe for making lemonade out of lemons.
Maybe another mayor during those 12 years could have done a better job. But New York didn’t have another mayor, it had Koch. And certainly, a lot of people could have done a lot worse than he did. Koch was and is a liberal, but a liberal with a better grasp on reality than most of his ilk. For example, he is a staunch supporter of current celebrity mayor Michael Bloomberg, a Republican, although some dismiss him as a Democrat in Republican clothing. Koch also opposed affirmative action, saying that it was demeaning to minorities since it assumed they intrinsically needed extra help to get and keep a job.
Author, Author!
So why did I strike an Ed Koch pose in the picture to the left? Many of my friends believe I’m another Democrat in Republican garb, but that’s not why I was trying to look like Koch.
Actually, I didn’t have anybody in mind when that picture was taken. My editor at Crosswalk.com needed a photo for my inaugural article to appear on her site next Tuesday, and I don't like having my picture taken and was goofing off. It wasn't until she sent me the image file that I realized the resemblance to Hizzonor (what New Yorkers call their mayors). That is the real reason I’m posting this picture here on Show-and-Tell day! This is my way of announcing that I’ll be a published Internet author as of next week.
I have to qualify that because I’m already a paid, published author. Back when I was in high school, my aunt was working for a textbook company in Greenwich Village, and they needed a story about the old west for one of their books. She suggested that one of her nephews in Texas could write it, and they paid me the princely sum of $35 to do so. Of course, I don’t have a copy of what I wrote for them, but I remember it had something to do with a horse pumping water with one of those old hand pumps. The story I wrote doesn't matter anyway, because when they got ahold of it, they edited the living daylight out of it so I could barely recognize it when my aunt sent me the final version. Leave it to a bunch of New York City editors to re-write a story about the Wild West from their offices in Greenwich Village.
Of course, that all took place during the Koch administration, back when vast stretches of New York could probably have been considered as violent and lawless as the Wild West reputedly was. So maybe those editors weren’t as disconnected from my story as I thought.
I invite you to look for my article on Crosswalk.com this coming Tuesday. It’s the first in a five-part series on singles in the church. Whether you’re single, married, or something in-between, hopefully you can get something out of it.
And then you can tell me "how I'm doin'!"
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A St. Patrick Most Revelers Don't Know
Day 29 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Have you ever eaten Irish nachos? Yummm... they’re so good, and so drenched with fats and salt that a doctor explicitly told a friend of mine to stop eating them.
Local dive restaurant J. Gilligan’s here in Arlington, Texas invented Irish nachos, and has even been featured on a cable travel show with the delicacy. You take thick slices of potatoes, fry them just a bit, then smother them with cheddar cheese, sour cream, jalapenos, bacon bits, and diced onions.
My friend’s doctor was right, wasn’t he?
I bring up the specialty of the house at J. Gilligan’s because today is St. Patrick’s Day, when this and all other Irish-themed restaurants throw beer-fueled bashes and anybody can be Irish until midnight. The city actually closes down streets around J. Gilligan’s so the crowds can dance on them. People come from all over Fort Worth and Dallas to participate.
Last Saturday, Dallas threw its annual St. Patrick’s Day parade down the older, quaint part of it’s bar-lined Greenville Avenue. In actually, it’s less parade and more beerfest, although sponsors keep saying it’s a family-friendly event. Not that drinking beer is a sin, but negligent parenting can be.
Granted, there’s more to St. Patrick’s Day than drinking beer… but not much. If you were to tell green-clad revelers who the day’s patron saint really was, they’d probably wonder about the connection between him and why they can barely remember the day’s date.
I’ve wondered that, too.
Would the Real Saint Patrick Please Stand Up?
Catholics call him the patron saint of Ireland, but St. Patrick has never been officially canonized. He wasn’t even Irish, but Scottish. Catholics like to say that Patrick introduced the Irish to Christianity, but in actually, Palladius brought Christianity to the Emerald Isle a few years before Patrick first arrived. And contrary to popular mythology, no snakes ever existed in Ireland for Patrick to banish.
Although born into privilege, he became a slave while still a teenager. Scholars estimate it took him 15 years to graduate from divinity school. He professed to having visions and visitations, which today many Catholics and most evangelicals would find disconcerting. Indeed, his certainly was not the normal path to the pastorate, but not the background of a wallflower, either. In his proclamation of the Gospel, in his compassion for his adopted homeland, and in his personal convictions, Patrick displayed resolute fervency. For whatever hype has flourished around the legend of St. Patrick, to him goes the undisputed credit for helping establish Christianity in Ireland.
He used Ireland's ubiquitous three-leaf clover to help explain the concept of the Trinity. During his captivity, he spent virtually six years solid in prayer. His writings invoke dark imagery from the Celtic witchcraft and symbolism that haunted his Irish flock. Patrick took the pagan superstition of the sun as the origin of power and applied it to the crucifix, creating what we know today as the Celtic cross.
His earnest devotion to his faith permeates his writings. Consider this excerpt from his “Confession:”
”But I entreat those who believe in and fear God, whoever deigns to examine or receive this document composed by the obviously unlearned sinner Patrick in Ireland, that nobody shall ever ascribe to my ignorance any trivial thing that I achieved or may have expounded that was pleasing to God, but accept and truly believe that it would have been the gift of God. And this is my confession before I die.” (# 62)
If You're Partying, Shouldn't the Celebration Fit the Honoree?
As a man of his day, his personal habits were undoubtedly different than ours, and the Irish have never been known for throwing a dull party. Yet for all that he is known today, most of which has been proven false, but much of which remains deeply theological and unfashionably pious, Patrick would probably quake with horror if he could see how most people celebrate his memory.
One town in Ireland celebrates with a bawdy parade between their two pubs. The very superstitions Patrick sought to contradict with the clover have returned in the four-leaf variety. Raucous debauchery characterizes most parties Irish-themed restaurants throw on March 17, the anniversary of Patrick’s death. About the only dignity in honor of the occasion is – yes, I’ve got to get my New York reference in here somehow! – the grand Irish parade down Fifth Avenue.
Not that a country as proud as Ireland and a people who’ve endured so much as the Irish don’t deserve their day in the international sun. So go ahead, wear green today, and if you think food coloring in beer is fun and harmless, don’t let me stop you.
Before you go out and party, though, maybe you should at least read a bit from Patrick and his “Breast-Plate” prayer:
“…I arise today, through God's strength to pilot me:
God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me,
God's host to secure me:
against snares of devils, against temptations of vices,
against inclinations of nature, against everyone who
shall wish me ill, afar and anear, alone and in a crowd…
“…Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right,
Christ on my left, Christ in breadth, Christ in length,
Christ in height, Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.
“I arise today through a mighty strength, the invocation of the
Trinity, through belief in the Threeness, through confession of the
Oneness of the Creator of creation.
Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of the Lord.
Salvation is of Christ. May Thy Salvation, O Lord, be ever with us.”
(Excerpts from “The Breast-Plate of St. Patrick”)
Wouldn’t you think this sounds more like the way in which Patrick would like to be remembered?
Have you ever eaten Irish nachos? Yummm... they’re so good, and so drenched with fats and salt that a doctor explicitly told a friend of mine to stop eating them.
Local dive restaurant J. Gilligan’s here in Arlington, Texas invented Irish nachos, and has even been featured on a cable travel show with the delicacy. You take thick slices of potatoes, fry them just a bit, then smother them with cheddar cheese, sour cream, jalapenos, bacon bits, and diced onions.
My friend’s doctor was right, wasn’t he?
I bring up the specialty of the house at J. Gilligan’s because today is St. Patrick’s Day, when this and all other Irish-themed restaurants throw beer-fueled bashes and anybody can be Irish until midnight. The city actually closes down streets around J. Gilligan’s so the crowds can dance on them. People come from all over Fort Worth and Dallas to participate.
Last Saturday, Dallas threw its annual St. Patrick’s Day parade down the older, quaint part of it’s bar-lined Greenville Avenue. In actually, it’s less parade and more beerfest, although sponsors keep saying it’s a family-friendly event. Not that drinking beer is a sin, but negligent parenting can be.
Granted, there’s more to St. Patrick’s Day than drinking beer… but not much. If you were to tell green-clad revelers who the day’s patron saint really was, they’d probably wonder about the connection between him and why they can barely remember the day’s date.
I’ve wondered that, too.
Would the Real Saint Patrick Please Stand Up?
Catholics call him the patron saint of Ireland, but St. Patrick has never been officially canonized. He wasn’t even Irish, but Scottish. Catholics like to say that Patrick introduced the Irish to Christianity, but in actually, Palladius brought Christianity to the Emerald Isle a few years before Patrick first arrived. And contrary to popular mythology, no snakes ever existed in Ireland for Patrick to banish.
Although born into privilege, he became a slave while still a teenager. Scholars estimate it took him 15 years to graduate from divinity school. He professed to having visions and visitations, which today many Catholics and most evangelicals would find disconcerting. Indeed, his certainly was not the normal path to the pastorate, but not the background of a wallflower, either. In his proclamation of the Gospel, in his compassion for his adopted homeland, and in his personal convictions, Patrick displayed resolute fervency. For whatever hype has flourished around the legend of St. Patrick, to him goes the undisputed credit for helping establish Christianity in Ireland.
He used Ireland's ubiquitous three-leaf clover to help explain the concept of the Trinity. During his captivity, he spent virtually six years solid in prayer. His writings invoke dark imagery from the Celtic witchcraft and symbolism that haunted his Irish flock. Patrick took the pagan superstition of the sun as the origin of power and applied it to the crucifix, creating what we know today as the Celtic cross.
His earnest devotion to his faith permeates his writings. Consider this excerpt from his “Confession:”
”But I entreat those who believe in and fear God, whoever deigns to examine or receive this document composed by the obviously unlearned sinner Patrick in Ireland, that nobody shall ever ascribe to my ignorance any trivial thing that I achieved or may have expounded that was pleasing to God, but accept and truly believe that it would have been the gift of God. And this is my confession before I die.” (# 62)
If You're Partying, Shouldn't the Celebration Fit the Honoree?
As a man of his day, his personal habits were undoubtedly different than ours, and the Irish have never been known for throwing a dull party. Yet for all that he is known today, most of which has been proven false, but much of which remains deeply theological and unfashionably pious, Patrick would probably quake with horror if he could see how most people celebrate his memory.
One town in Ireland celebrates with a bawdy parade between their two pubs. The very superstitions Patrick sought to contradict with the clover have returned in the four-leaf variety. Raucous debauchery characterizes most parties Irish-themed restaurants throw on March 17, the anniversary of Patrick’s death. About the only dignity in honor of the occasion is – yes, I’ve got to get my New York reference in here somehow! – the grand Irish parade down Fifth Avenue.
Not that a country as proud as Ireland and a people who’ve endured so much as the Irish don’t deserve their day in the international sun. So go ahead, wear green today, and if you think food coloring in beer is fun and harmless, don’t let me stop you.
Before you go out and party, though, maybe you should at least read a bit from Patrick and his “Breast-Plate” prayer:
“…I arise today, through God's strength to pilot me:
God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me,
God's host to secure me:
against snares of devils, against temptations of vices,
against inclinations of nature, against everyone who
shall wish me ill, afar and anear, alone and in a crowd…
“…Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right,
Christ on my left, Christ in breadth, Christ in length,
Christ in height, Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.
“I arise today through a mighty strength, the invocation of the
Trinity, through belief in the Threeness, through confession of the
Oneness of the Creator of creation.
Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of the Lord.
Salvation is of Christ. May Thy Salvation, O Lord, be ever with us.”
(Excerpts from “The Breast-Plate of St. Patrick”)
Wouldn’t you think this sounds more like the way in which Patrick would like to be remembered?
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Rest of the Sabbath
Day 27 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
So we’re listening to this tall, lanky, African man with dark chocolate skin, talking in French to an interpreter. The two of them were standing at the wrought-iron and carved-wood pulpit in our church's sanctuary, describing his ministry in Senegal.
Mamadou Djop doesn’t speak English well, but he’s fluent in French, so a church member who also speaks French helped translate Djop’s story for the congregation this past Sunday. Djop described how his abandonment of Islam and coming to faith in Christ harmed his own mother, one of his father’s four wives. Among other things, having her son disgrace their family by adopting Christianity automatically thrust her to the bottom of the intra-wife hierarchy.
For Americans unused to plural marriage and the severe subjugation of women, the plight of Djop and his mother seems too foreign to comprehend. Yet for Djop, whose conviction of faith could not be denied by familial ties, the burden of seeing how his mother unwittingly suffered from his conversion must have been heartbreaking.
Convicted of how I take my faith for granted, I marveled at how God can both utilize the family structure for the nurture of familial relationships, and also instigate the pain of dislodging those same relationships for His glory. I don’t know if Djop and his parents have been able to forge any sort of reconciliation, but it certainly seemed as though the peace of Christ has been a balm of sorts for whatever brokenness took place within this family that Djop obviously loves.
Sunday Fun Day?
Of course, his is but one story of the many people around the world who have had to relinquish so much to “take hold of the prize” through faith in Christ. Whether in the persecuted church or in countries with strict cultural norms such as Senegal, believers are living testimonies of suffering for the sake of the Gospel that, to be frank, should make we American Christians blush with shame. Sure, we sometimes get made fun of by opinionated boors in the media, and anecdotal stories about illicit nativity scenes and Ten Commandments plaques sound like persecution in our privileged society. But don’t kid yourself – that’s not persecution, is it?
So we go to our churches on Sunday mornings and then play all afternoon. Does that sound like a bunch of persecuted religious zealots? Even after a compelling testimony of God’s work in Senegal, our ethnocentrism inevitably takes over and by the time we’re driving out of the parking lot, many of us have already been consumed by plans for the afternoon.
Not that the persecuted church would begrudge American believers our Sunday delights. Or even our Sunday chores. But how often do we sit through a God-focused worship service only to revert back to our own small worlds, failing to fully appreciate God’s goodness and blessings to us? In the bustle of our everyday lives, have we unwittingly drawn Sunday out of its Biblical context and fashioned it into just another day for us to get stuff done?
Weekend Warrior
Some people view Sundays as a day for still, solemn meditation about God and His Gospel. Quite honestly, that may be an ideal pursuit for Sundays, but how realistic would it be? How many people can sit for hours on end, mentally exercising their faith, without falling asleep or fighting a running battle with concentration? How restful is struggling to stay awake or keep kids quiet all afternoon?
Indeed, the concept of rest and recreation on Sunday afternoons has evolved along with society. Time was, people who went to church didn’t really have the luxury of leisure like we have today. And you can bash unions all you want, but in many western countries, the two-day weekend is mostly an invention of workers rights groups. Of course, the idea of “Sabbath rest” comes from Genesis 2, where God Himself set the example of taking a break from one’s ordinary labor. But by tacking Saturday onto Sunday, which many cultures associate with the day of the week Christ rose from the dead, we’ve stretched the “Sabbath rest” concept until it’s practically lost its significance.
Not that everybody gets weekends off from work. Farmers have to work just about every day. Doctors, nurses, police officers, and other round-the-clock careers sometimes have Sunday hours. And of course, pastors and church workers punch in every Sunday. But the idea of taking time off for rest is still a good idea, isn’t it, even if you can’t do it on Sundays.
Instead, so many churchgoers seem to shoehorn Sunday services into a day they’ve intentionally crammed full of a lot of other stuff. Most of us sleep late, which automatically means we’re running late for church. Then a lot of us go out to lunch – which, btw, a lot of restaurant workers don’t like because a lot of us tip horribly. And then the afternoons quickly become congested with trips to the mall, homework, mowing the yard, and everything else that didn’t get done on Saturday.
Meanwhile, Christians around the world meet in secret to fellowship together on the Lord’s Day. Not that we should spend Sundays in mourning for them. But maybe we can do a better job of spending our Sundays more intentionally. Why waste them cleaning the bathroom or trimming the hedges? By not taking advantage of the same opportunity that God took – and ordained – for Sundays, do you think maybe you view your time as being more important than God’s?
It’s not just about what we do on Sundays, but why we do them. Why didn’t you get all your chores done Saturday? Are you bending over backwards keeping your yard as perfect as the Jones’? Did the kids have too much on their sports schedule that their homework waited until Sunday? Did you put in extra hours at the office on Saturday (or Sunday) to impress the boss? Is your lifestyle linked to your income, and your income linked to a heavy work schedule?
Hmm… maybe I’m getting too personal. Maybe some seasons in life are more hectic than others. Certainly in this economy, keeping a job is hard enough without complaining about extra hours. And lots of kids in sports must play their games both Saturdays and Sundays.
Best Sabbath Rest
Indeed, should we have hard and fast rules for what believers should and shouldn’t do on Sundays? If you’re going to make people jump through hoops to be spiritual on a certain day of the week, how many scriptures can we find to prove the fallacy in that?
For example, there’s a school of thought that says we shouldn’t go out to eat on Sundays, because we’re obligating other people to work, even though people who want to attend church usually can find a way, even if they work in a restaurant. What if an elderly widow’s lawn needs to be mowed, but it rained all day Saturday? What if your child is sick all day Sunday, and you have to spend the day tending to their needs, washing soiled laundry, and going to the store for medicine?
Even if you wanted to spend the day away from the office, the mall, and the little league park, don’t all sorts of people have all sorts of ways to “rest and recreate?” For people like me, a nice long nap is pure luxury. But for others, unwinding on the golf course, decompressing with a brisk walk, contemplating the hues in some beautiful music, or even – gasp! – wading through the Sunday edition of the New York Times can be just the tonic for brains, bones, and muscles tensed up by a weeks’ worth of toil.
Somebody once tried to convince me that they found mowing their lawn to be relaxing, and therefore a perfectly appropriate Sunday activity. Now, I understand that a sense of accomplishment usually follows one’s labors at a lawn mower, and there may be weeks when Sunday offers the only time to mow. But relaxing? Please – if mowing the lawn is restful to you, do it on a Saturday and be both rested and efficient. Mowing the lawn is noisy and laborious any way you look at it. You may not sin if you mow your yard on Sundays, but you will annoy any neighbors trying to use their Sundays for quieter pursuits.
Back when I lived in Brooklyn, I used to enjoy strolling through parts of its Borough Park neighborhood on idyllic Saturday afternoons. Home to a sizeable community of Hasidic Jews, Borough Park can be downright quiet on Saturdays, the Jewish Sabbath. Only gentiles would be driving down its tree-shaded streets, lined by row houses where kids played quietly on the stoops. Casual clutches of bearded men wearing white shirts and black pants would be interspersed down the blocks, with women leaning through open windows, chatting softly with their next door neighbors. I almost felt like I was intruding into their private sanctuary; that I needed to apologize for disturbing them, the serenity was that palpable. Hushed and ordered, their Sabbath observance bespeaks a simple method for taking advantage of what rejuvenation we can snatch away from our frenzied world.
Of Law and Commandment
Granted, Borough Park’s Hasidic Jews may have mostly observed their religion’s Sabbath rules out of a rigorous, traditional, do-and-don’t mentality. In Christianity, we believe that because God looks at the heart, why we do the things we do matters significantly to Him. Why do you mow your yard on Sundays, or why don’t you? Does not mowing your lawn on Sundays make you more spiritual? Of course not. But if you spend the time you would have spent mowing the lawn on something that will physically benefit your body, your mind, and your soul, how much closer to God’s model for rest have you come?
Honor the Sabbath day, and keep it holy. Where have you heard that before? It’s one of the Ten Commandments, isn’t it? If it’s a Commandment, then why don’t we do it? Why don’t we honor the day by keeping it separate, which is what “holy” means? Many believers around the world live in fear because of what they celebrate on Sundays. We don’t live in fear, but maybe we should do a better job of living with respectful observance of freedoms God Himself commands of us.
Think about it. How many other religions tell its adherents to rest? To take a day off? Indeed, all other religions require constant, hard work from their followers before they earn their "salvation."
By contrast, what is the degree to which we demonstrate our trust in Christ’s atoning sacrifice by taking advantage of Sabbath rest, acknowledging that there’s nothing we can do to work for salvation? I’m not saying we demonstrate Christ’s substitutionary atonement by taking a nap on Sunday afternoons, but it’s not as far of a stretch as it sounds, is it?
God could have snapped His immortal fingers to instantly create our world. Instead, He paced out His creation over six days. And rested on the seventh.
What did you do yesterday?
_____
So we’re listening to this tall, lanky, African man with dark chocolate skin, talking in French to an interpreter. The two of them were standing at the wrought-iron and carved-wood pulpit in our church's sanctuary, describing his ministry in Senegal.
Mamadou Djop doesn’t speak English well, but he’s fluent in French, so a church member who also speaks French helped translate Djop’s story for the congregation this past Sunday. Djop described how his abandonment of Islam and coming to faith in Christ harmed his own mother, one of his father’s four wives. Among other things, having her son disgrace their family by adopting Christianity automatically thrust her to the bottom of the intra-wife hierarchy.
For Americans unused to plural marriage and the severe subjugation of women, the plight of Djop and his mother seems too foreign to comprehend. Yet for Djop, whose conviction of faith could not be denied by familial ties, the burden of seeing how his mother unwittingly suffered from his conversion must have been heartbreaking.
Convicted of how I take my faith for granted, I marveled at how God can both utilize the family structure for the nurture of familial relationships, and also instigate the pain of dislodging those same relationships for His glory. I don’t know if Djop and his parents have been able to forge any sort of reconciliation, but it certainly seemed as though the peace of Christ has been a balm of sorts for whatever brokenness took place within this family that Djop obviously loves.
Sunday Fun Day?
Of course, his is but one story of the many people around the world who have had to relinquish so much to “take hold of the prize” through faith in Christ. Whether in the persecuted church or in countries with strict cultural norms such as Senegal, believers are living testimonies of suffering for the sake of the Gospel that, to be frank, should make we American Christians blush with shame. Sure, we sometimes get made fun of by opinionated boors in the media, and anecdotal stories about illicit nativity scenes and Ten Commandments plaques sound like persecution in our privileged society. But don’t kid yourself – that’s not persecution, is it?
So we go to our churches on Sunday mornings and then play all afternoon. Does that sound like a bunch of persecuted religious zealots? Even after a compelling testimony of God’s work in Senegal, our ethnocentrism inevitably takes over and by the time we’re driving out of the parking lot, many of us have already been consumed by plans for the afternoon.
Not that the persecuted church would begrudge American believers our Sunday delights. Or even our Sunday chores. But how often do we sit through a God-focused worship service only to revert back to our own small worlds, failing to fully appreciate God’s goodness and blessings to us? In the bustle of our everyday lives, have we unwittingly drawn Sunday out of its Biblical context and fashioned it into just another day for us to get stuff done?
Weekend Warrior
Some people view Sundays as a day for still, solemn meditation about God and His Gospel. Quite honestly, that may be an ideal pursuit for Sundays, but how realistic would it be? How many people can sit for hours on end, mentally exercising their faith, without falling asleep or fighting a running battle with concentration? How restful is struggling to stay awake or keep kids quiet all afternoon?
Indeed, the concept of rest and recreation on Sunday afternoons has evolved along with society. Time was, people who went to church didn’t really have the luxury of leisure like we have today. And you can bash unions all you want, but in many western countries, the two-day weekend is mostly an invention of workers rights groups. Of course, the idea of “Sabbath rest” comes from Genesis 2, where God Himself set the example of taking a break from one’s ordinary labor. But by tacking Saturday onto Sunday, which many cultures associate with the day of the week Christ rose from the dead, we’ve stretched the “Sabbath rest” concept until it’s practically lost its significance.
Not that everybody gets weekends off from work. Farmers have to work just about every day. Doctors, nurses, police officers, and other round-the-clock careers sometimes have Sunday hours. And of course, pastors and church workers punch in every Sunday. But the idea of taking time off for rest is still a good idea, isn’t it, even if you can’t do it on Sundays.
Instead, so many churchgoers seem to shoehorn Sunday services into a day they’ve intentionally crammed full of a lot of other stuff. Most of us sleep late, which automatically means we’re running late for church. Then a lot of us go out to lunch – which, btw, a lot of restaurant workers don’t like because a lot of us tip horribly. And then the afternoons quickly become congested with trips to the mall, homework, mowing the yard, and everything else that didn’t get done on Saturday.
Meanwhile, Christians around the world meet in secret to fellowship together on the Lord’s Day. Not that we should spend Sundays in mourning for them. But maybe we can do a better job of spending our Sundays more intentionally. Why waste them cleaning the bathroom or trimming the hedges? By not taking advantage of the same opportunity that God took – and ordained – for Sundays, do you think maybe you view your time as being more important than God’s?
It’s not just about what we do on Sundays, but why we do them. Why didn’t you get all your chores done Saturday? Are you bending over backwards keeping your yard as perfect as the Jones’? Did the kids have too much on their sports schedule that their homework waited until Sunday? Did you put in extra hours at the office on Saturday (or Sunday) to impress the boss? Is your lifestyle linked to your income, and your income linked to a heavy work schedule?
Hmm… maybe I’m getting too personal. Maybe some seasons in life are more hectic than others. Certainly in this economy, keeping a job is hard enough without complaining about extra hours. And lots of kids in sports must play their games both Saturdays and Sundays.
Best Sabbath Rest
Indeed, should we have hard and fast rules for what believers should and shouldn’t do on Sundays? If you’re going to make people jump through hoops to be spiritual on a certain day of the week, how many scriptures can we find to prove the fallacy in that?
For example, there’s a school of thought that says we shouldn’t go out to eat on Sundays, because we’re obligating other people to work, even though people who want to attend church usually can find a way, even if they work in a restaurant. What if an elderly widow’s lawn needs to be mowed, but it rained all day Saturday? What if your child is sick all day Sunday, and you have to spend the day tending to their needs, washing soiled laundry, and going to the store for medicine?
Even if you wanted to spend the day away from the office, the mall, and the little league park, don’t all sorts of people have all sorts of ways to “rest and recreate?” For people like me, a nice long nap is pure luxury. But for others, unwinding on the golf course, decompressing with a brisk walk, contemplating the hues in some beautiful music, or even – gasp! – wading through the Sunday edition of the New York Times can be just the tonic for brains, bones, and muscles tensed up by a weeks’ worth of toil.
Somebody once tried to convince me that they found mowing their lawn to be relaxing, and therefore a perfectly appropriate Sunday activity. Now, I understand that a sense of accomplishment usually follows one’s labors at a lawn mower, and there may be weeks when Sunday offers the only time to mow. But relaxing? Please – if mowing the lawn is restful to you, do it on a Saturday and be both rested and efficient. Mowing the lawn is noisy and laborious any way you look at it. You may not sin if you mow your yard on Sundays, but you will annoy any neighbors trying to use their Sundays for quieter pursuits.
Back when I lived in Brooklyn, I used to enjoy strolling through parts of its Borough Park neighborhood on idyllic Saturday afternoons. Home to a sizeable community of Hasidic Jews, Borough Park can be downright quiet on Saturdays, the Jewish Sabbath. Only gentiles would be driving down its tree-shaded streets, lined by row houses where kids played quietly on the stoops. Casual clutches of bearded men wearing white shirts and black pants would be interspersed down the blocks, with women leaning through open windows, chatting softly with their next door neighbors. I almost felt like I was intruding into their private sanctuary; that I needed to apologize for disturbing them, the serenity was that palpable. Hushed and ordered, their Sabbath observance bespeaks a simple method for taking advantage of what rejuvenation we can snatch away from our frenzied world.
Of Law and Commandment
Granted, Borough Park’s Hasidic Jews may have mostly observed their religion’s Sabbath rules out of a rigorous, traditional, do-and-don’t mentality. In Christianity, we believe that because God looks at the heart, why we do the things we do matters significantly to Him. Why do you mow your yard on Sundays, or why don’t you? Does not mowing your lawn on Sundays make you more spiritual? Of course not. But if you spend the time you would have spent mowing the lawn on something that will physically benefit your body, your mind, and your soul, how much closer to God’s model for rest have you come?
Honor the Sabbath day, and keep it holy. Where have you heard that before? It’s one of the Ten Commandments, isn’t it? If it’s a Commandment, then why don’t we do it? Why don’t we honor the day by keeping it separate, which is what “holy” means? Many believers around the world live in fear because of what they celebrate on Sundays. We don’t live in fear, but maybe we should do a better job of living with respectful observance of freedoms God Himself commands of us.
Think about it. How many other religions tell its adherents to rest? To take a day off? Indeed, all other religions require constant, hard work from their followers before they earn their "salvation."
By contrast, what is the degree to which we demonstrate our trust in Christ’s atoning sacrifice by taking advantage of Sabbath rest, acknowledging that there’s nothing we can do to work for salvation? I’m not saying we demonstrate Christ’s substitutionary atonement by taking a nap on Sunday afternoons, but it’s not as far of a stretch as it sounds, is it?
God could have snapped His immortal fingers to instantly create our world. Instead, He paced out His creation over six days. And rested on the seventh.
What did you do yesterday?
_____
Friday, March 5, 2010
Bully for You, Sully!
Day 17 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Show and Tell
Clear and sunny skies greeted us as our airplane roared off the runway from LaGuardia. From my window seat, I traced the increasingly diminutive landmarks as we soared above them, the vast expanse of Long Island Sound far off to the right, the teeming brown cityscape of the Bronx, with it’s tangle of freeways slithering below. I don’t recall seeing the majestic George Washington Bridge, but we were about to pass over the Hudson River...
Suddenly, a muffled bang shook the airliner’s cabin, and it seemed as if the plane sank back from its ascent for a brief moment before surging ahead. We passengers glanced about at each other apprehensively, while others wondered aloud what had happened. Did you feel that?
I glanced out of the window, and yes, we still had an engine attached to the wing. That’s how suspicious the noise and vibration felt. But in the immediate moments after the incident, no acknowledgement of it was made from the cockpit or flight crew, so maybe it was nothing.
Well, it wasn’t.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” intoned a measured voice over the speakers. “We appear to have lost the use of one of our engines, and have decided to return to LaGuardia to have everything checked out."
And then, our plane began a decidedly right-hand turn, banking and heading back over the Hudson. On the whole, we passengers remained relatively calm and quiet. We knew there was a problem, we knew what it was, the pilots are taking us back to the airport, and everything will be OK. Horribly inconvenient, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.
“Good morning again, ladies and gentlemen… ahhh… LaGuardia can’t accommodate our plane at this time… but Kennedy can, so we’re heading there instead.”
OK, what had been only horribly inconvenient was now sounding much more disconcerting.
“Uh... yeah, ladies and gentlemen… ahhh… just wanted to let you know that we will be met at Kennedy by a full compliment of emergency equipment along the runway… ahhh… just in case…”
You would have thought the pilot said we were going to crash right there. Questions started flying around the cabin, muffled whimpers could be heard, and lots of people started calling for flight attendants. For their part, the flight attendants had been cool as cucumbers so far, and still weren’t betraying any alarm.
“Flight attendants, please prepare for… landing..." I can’t remember if the pilot said it would be a crash landing, but by this time, we all knew what he meant. The whimpers from passengers weren’t muffled anymore. I could hear some people begin to cry. Others started praying out loud. The well-dressed executive from Anne Klein II sitting in the seat next to me turned around to her business associates behind us and cursed.
How did I know she was from Anne Klein II? She told me. They told everybody. She and a handful of others just like her boarded the plane with bags emblazoned “Anne Klein II.” They had been laughing and talking loudly to each other, despite sitting in various parts of the cabin. Now, though, there wasn’t the condescending punch to their voices.
Quietly and methodically, the flight attendants cleared out their entire stash of blankets and pillows, distributing them across the cabin. They repeated the same safety demonstration they had completed just minutes earlier, when nobody was watching them. This time, though, they had everybody’s full attention!
“Prepare for landing."
Out the window, I could see a phalanx of emergency trucks, police cars, and fire engines already lined up alongside the runway we were approaching. As we sailed overhead, preparing to touch concrete, I saw more trucks and flashing lights racing towards us from across another runway. Pushed up next to me, looking out of the same window over my shoulder, the Anne Klein II woman cursed again.
I had to admit – seeing all of those emergency vehicles racing to meet us didn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence! But I prayed silently to myself, just in case this really was it. The flight attendants remained calm as they went to their jump seats to ride out whatever would happen next.
Parallels in Flight
It was one of the smoothest landings I’ve ever had in a plane. No rolling, no bouncing... no explosions! Cheers erupted throughout the cabin. More people cried – but this time, from sheer relief. The Anne Klein II woman cursed again, but this time with a lot more gusto.
Obviously, this harrowing ordeal wasn’t the “Miracle on the Hudson” that took place over one year ago. My experience happened back in the 1980’s, when I was a college student returning to Texas from visiting my aunt in Brooklyn. But I was reminded of it again when US Airways Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger announced his retirement this past Wednesday.
The pilot who made landing a passenger airplane on top of the Hudson River look like another day at the office says he’ll be leaving the commercial cockpit to advocate for better training and pay for airline pilots. Some people scoff at his being labeled a hero, but hey – what else do you call somebody who puts a plane down in the middle of an urban waterway without any loss of life? There was more damage done to the aircraft when they fished it out of the Hudson than from the crash itself. And with the exception of two hysterical women who hurt themselves trying to open the emergency doors the wrong way, everybody walked away.
I’ve blogged before about airline pilots and the pay they receive for carting all of us around our congested skyways. Every day, pilots take off and land with hundreds of people, one slip-up away from death, and nobody really notices. Sullenberger isn’t the first pilot who’s had to make some cool, calm decisions with split-second timing, and he won’t be the last. My opinion on what they’re paid for such an incredible responsibility is pretty simple: I want my pilots happy!
Did Sullenberger receive a big, fat bonus for his feat on the Hudson? I don’t know, but who would complain if he did? Certainly not his passengers that day or since. Probably not even some executives with US Airways, who reveled in the newfound public relations boost he gave them.
Grousing all the way to their brokers, however, would probably have been the shareholders if Sullenberger had been given even a fraction of the millions he saved his company that day. Rewarding a job well done doesn’t necessarily jive with rewarding the wealth invested into something. Not that buying stocks in a company and hoping that company does well isn’t a bad thing. But it’s not the only thing, is it?
I wonder what a US Airways shareholder on Flight # 1549 that day would have said moments before Sullenberger landed on a sliver of water between Manhattan's skyscrapers and New Jersey's palisades. Hurtling downwards over the George Washington Bridge, with the Hudson’s choppy waters coming fast into view, the shareholder probably would have screamed, “Give him anything he wants!”
Show and Tell
Clear and sunny skies greeted us as our airplane roared off the runway from LaGuardia. From my window seat, I traced the increasingly diminutive landmarks as we soared above them, the vast expanse of Long Island Sound far off to the right, the teeming brown cityscape of the Bronx, with it’s tangle of freeways slithering below. I don’t recall seeing the majestic George Washington Bridge, but we were about to pass over the Hudson River...Suddenly, a muffled bang shook the airliner’s cabin, and it seemed as if the plane sank back from its ascent for a brief moment before surging ahead. We passengers glanced about at each other apprehensively, while others wondered aloud what had happened. Did you feel that?
I glanced out of the window, and yes, we still had an engine attached to the wing. That’s how suspicious the noise and vibration felt. But in the immediate moments after the incident, no acknowledgement of it was made from the cockpit or flight crew, so maybe it was nothing.
Well, it wasn’t.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” intoned a measured voice over the speakers. “We appear to have lost the use of one of our engines, and have decided to return to LaGuardia to have everything checked out."
And then, our plane began a decidedly right-hand turn, banking and heading back over the Hudson. On the whole, we passengers remained relatively calm and quiet. We knew there was a problem, we knew what it was, the pilots are taking us back to the airport, and everything will be OK. Horribly inconvenient, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.
“Good morning again, ladies and gentlemen… ahhh… LaGuardia can’t accommodate our plane at this time… but Kennedy can, so we’re heading there instead.”
OK, what had been only horribly inconvenient was now sounding much more disconcerting.
“Uh... yeah, ladies and gentlemen… ahhh… just wanted to let you know that we will be met at Kennedy by a full compliment of emergency equipment along the runway… ahhh… just in case…”
You would have thought the pilot said we were going to crash right there. Questions started flying around the cabin, muffled whimpers could be heard, and lots of people started calling for flight attendants. For their part, the flight attendants had been cool as cucumbers so far, and still weren’t betraying any alarm.
“Flight attendants, please prepare for… landing..." I can’t remember if the pilot said it would be a crash landing, but by this time, we all knew what he meant. The whimpers from passengers weren’t muffled anymore. I could hear some people begin to cry. Others started praying out loud. The well-dressed executive from Anne Klein II sitting in the seat next to me turned around to her business associates behind us and cursed.
How did I know she was from Anne Klein II? She told me. They told everybody. She and a handful of others just like her boarded the plane with bags emblazoned “Anne Klein II.” They had been laughing and talking loudly to each other, despite sitting in various parts of the cabin. Now, though, there wasn’t the condescending punch to their voices.
Quietly and methodically, the flight attendants cleared out their entire stash of blankets and pillows, distributing them across the cabin. They repeated the same safety demonstration they had completed just minutes earlier, when nobody was watching them. This time, though, they had everybody’s full attention!
“Prepare for landing."
Out the window, I could see a phalanx of emergency trucks, police cars, and fire engines already lined up alongside the runway we were approaching. As we sailed overhead, preparing to touch concrete, I saw more trucks and flashing lights racing towards us from across another runway. Pushed up next to me, looking out of the same window over my shoulder, the Anne Klein II woman cursed again.
I had to admit – seeing all of those emergency vehicles racing to meet us didn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence! But I prayed silently to myself, just in case this really was it. The flight attendants remained calm as they went to their jump seats to ride out whatever would happen next.
Parallels in Flight
It was one of the smoothest landings I’ve ever had in a plane. No rolling, no bouncing... no explosions! Cheers erupted throughout the cabin. More people cried – but this time, from sheer relief. The Anne Klein II woman cursed again, but this time with a lot more gusto.
Obviously, this harrowing ordeal wasn’t the “Miracle on the Hudson” that took place over one year ago. My experience happened back in the 1980’s, when I was a college student returning to Texas from visiting my aunt in Brooklyn. But I was reminded of it again when US Airways Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger announced his retirement this past Wednesday.
The pilot who made landing a passenger airplane on top of the Hudson River look like another day at the office says he’ll be leaving the commercial cockpit to advocate for better training and pay for airline pilots. Some people scoff at his being labeled a hero, but hey – what else do you call somebody who puts a plane down in the middle of an urban waterway without any loss of life? There was more damage done to the aircraft when they fished it out of the Hudson than from the crash itself. And with the exception of two hysterical women who hurt themselves trying to open the emergency doors the wrong way, everybody walked away.
I’ve blogged before about airline pilots and the pay they receive for carting all of us around our congested skyways. Every day, pilots take off and land with hundreds of people, one slip-up away from death, and nobody really notices. Sullenberger isn’t the first pilot who’s had to make some cool, calm decisions with split-second timing, and he won’t be the last. My opinion on what they’re paid for such an incredible responsibility is pretty simple: I want my pilots happy!
Did Sullenberger receive a big, fat bonus for his feat on the Hudson? I don’t know, but who would complain if he did? Certainly not his passengers that day or since. Probably not even some executives with US Airways, who reveled in the newfound public relations boost he gave them.
Grousing all the way to their brokers, however, would probably have been the shareholders if Sullenberger had been given even a fraction of the millions he saved his company that day. Rewarding a job well done doesn’t necessarily jive with rewarding the wealth invested into something. Not that buying stocks in a company and hoping that company does well isn’t a bad thing. But it’s not the only thing, is it?
I wonder what a US Airways shareholder on Flight # 1549 that day would have said moments before Sullenberger landed on a sliver of water between Manhattan's skyscrapers and New Jersey's palisades. Hurtling downwards over the George Washington Bridge, with the Hudson’s choppy waters coming fast into view, the shareholder probably would have screamed, “Give him anything he wants!”
Thursday, March 4, 2010
9-11 Conspiracists are Their Own Enemy
Day 16 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Almost a decade after 9-11, some people still can’t shake the suspicion that our own government plotted the attacks of that fateful day. And it’s not the usual conspiracy wonks obsessing over this idea - as recently as last month, the issue surfaced again during the Republican gubernatorial primary here in Texas.
Novice tea party activist Debra Medina stumbled awkwardly when replying to a question on the subject posed to her by conservative radio talk show host Mark Davis. Even in subsequent interviews when follow-up questions were posed to Medina by different reporters, she couldn’t – or wouldn’t – make a convincing break with the conspiracy theorists.
Medina ran against two political warhorses for Texas governor, 10-year incumbent Rick Perry and Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson. Considering the extreme tenure of both Perry and Hutchinson, some national pundits thought Medina stood a strong chance of beating them both – or coming pretty close – because of anti-incumbent fervor in the Lone Star State.
And early on, Medina scored some points. Plucky grit got her on a televised debate from which she was initially barred. She made remarkable progress casting herself as a legitimate alternative to politics as usual… until the interview with Davis.
Medina suspects that his 9-11 question may have been a “plant,” designed to destabilize her train of thought. After all, this issue wasn’t even on her political radar: what does a Texas governor have to do with terrorist sites in Manhattan, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC?
At first, Texans were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but when in other interviews she only entrenched her alignment with conspiracy buffs, voter interest nose-dived. She ended up with 18% of the Republican primary vote, far less respectable than expected.
Can't Let It Go
What is it about those despicable events of September 11, 2001, that help some Americans harbor such animosity and criticism against our own government? None of us thinks Washington is scrupulously honest, or always looking out for the interests of the general public. But planning 9-11...?
Is it the sheer, stunning audacity of what happened that makes conspiracists unable to process it all? Is there that much vile contempt for Washington that people would rather suspect it of terrorism than Muslim extremists?
What kind of satisfaction do 9-11 conspiracy theorists expect to find in the knowledge that our own leaders masterminded the whole thing? If George W. Bush were to walk out onto the lawn of his new house in Dallas’ posh Preston Hollow neighborhood to a press conference and admit that, yeah, he and Clinton plotted the whole thing – would conspiracists rejoice?
Good grief – what kind of wacko, delusional fatalist does one have to be to believe our entire government is a sham? That it’s utterly despicable, full of brazen traitors and zombie killers? Because that’s what having the US government plot 9-11 would have required.
No elite domestic terrorism cell within any covert agency or branch of the government would have been able to pull off the stunning scenario watched by people all over the world that awful Tuesday morning. No group of 10, 20, 100, or 500 people still running around the Pentagon, the White House, or Capitol Hill, sharing secret handshakes and holding alumni reunions underground in honor of their brazen plot.
For the level of cover-up required to pull off 9-11 as an inside job, trying to coordinate so many people of so many disciplines with so much equipment and such widespread access would have been sheer folly. Granted, Washington has known its share of folly, but not from a clandestine operation of that scale.
Look, we can’t safeguard normal state secrets any longer than it takes somebody to dial a phone. If anybody knew of the breathtaking plans for 9-11, Moscow would have been buzzing about it within hours. Our entire capital district is one giant sieve of confidential information.
Why the World Trade Center Wasn't an Inside Job
I don’t know much about the Pentagon, or whatever target Flight 93 was destined to destroy before passengers heroically forced it into a Pennsylvania field. But I do know something about New York’s World Trade Center (WTC). So let me help debunk at least one critical aspect about which many conspiracy advocates keep harping.
I’ve heard some people say that since the WTC was a government facility, government operatives would have had easy access to plant explosives and other destructive devices. Well, yes, it is a government facility, but the governments are the states of New York and New Jersey, not the federal government. It was – and still is – owned by the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, and a more over-bureaucratized and union-saturated organization you’ll never find. Absolutely nothing happened in that huge, 7-building complex without at least dozens of people knowing about it.
Not only did the Port Authority control the complex, but the City of New York, the New York governor’s office, the Securities and Exchange Commission, and any number of banks all had operations in the World Trade Center. These are all organizations with lots of busybodies and security protocols.
Almost a decade after 9-11, some people still can’t shake the suspicion that our own government plotted the attacks of that fateful day. And it’s not the usual conspiracy wonks obsessing over this idea - as recently as last month, the issue surfaced again during the Republican gubernatorial primary here in Texas.
Novice tea party activist Debra Medina stumbled awkwardly when replying to a question on the subject posed to her by conservative radio talk show host Mark Davis. Even in subsequent interviews when follow-up questions were posed to Medina by different reporters, she couldn’t – or wouldn’t – make a convincing break with the conspiracy theorists.
Medina ran against two political warhorses for Texas governor, 10-year incumbent Rick Perry and Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson. Considering the extreme tenure of both Perry and Hutchinson, some national pundits thought Medina stood a strong chance of beating them both – or coming pretty close – because of anti-incumbent fervor in the Lone Star State.
And early on, Medina scored some points. Plucky grit got her on a televised debate from which she was initially barred. She made remarkable progress casting herself as a legitimate alternative to politics as usual… until the interview with Davis.
Medina suspects that his 9-11 question may have been a “plant,” designed to destabilize her train of thought. After all, this issue wasn’t even on her political radar: what does a Texas governor have to do with terrorist sites in Manhattan, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC?
At first, Texans were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but when in other interviews she only entrenched her alignment with conspiracy buffs, voter interest nose-dived. She ended up with 18% of the Republican primary vote, far less respectable than expected.
Can't Let It Go
What is it about those despicable events of September 11, 2001, that help some Americans harbor such animosity and criticism against our own government? None of us thinks Washington is scrupulously honest, or always looking out for the interests of the general public. But planning 9-11...?
Is it the sheer, stunning audacity of what happened that makes conspiracists unable to process it all? Is there that much vile contempt for Washington that people would rather suspect it of terrorism than Muslim extremists?
What kind of satisfaction do 9-11 conspiracy theorists expect to find in the knowledge that our own leaders masterminded the whole thing? If George W. Bush were to walk out onto the lawn of his new house in Dallas’ posh Preston Hollow neighborhood to a press conference and admit that, yeah, he and Clinton plotted the whole thing – would conspiracists rejoice?
Good grief – what kind of wacko, delusional fatalist does one have to be to believe our entire government is a sham? That it’s utterly despicable, full of brazen traitors and zombie killers? Because that’s what having the US government plot 9-11 would have required.
No elite domestic terrorism cell within any covert agency or branch of the government would have been able to pull off the stunning scenario watched by people all over the world that awful Tuesday morning. No group of 10, 20, 100, or 500 people still running around the Pentagon, the White House, or Capitol Hill, sharing secret handshakes and holding alumni reunions underground in honor of their brazen plot.
For the level of cover-up required to pull off 9-11 as an inside job, trying to coordinate so many people of so many disciplines with so much equipment and such widespread access would have been sheer folly. Granted, Washington has known its share of folly, but not from a clandestine operation of that scale.
Look, we can’t safeguard normal state secrets any longer than it takes somebody to dial a phone. If anybody knew of the breathtaking plans for 9-11, Moscow would have been buzzing about it within hours. Our entire capital district is one giant sieve of confidential information.
Why the World Trade Center Wasn't an Inside Job
I don’t know much about the Pentagon, or whatever target Flight 93 was destined to destroy before passengers heroically forced it into a Pennsylvania field. But I do know something about New York’s World Trade Center (WTC). So let me help debunk at least one critical aspect about which many conspiracy advocates keep harping.
I’ve heard some people say that since the WTC was a government facility, government operatives would have had easy access to plant explosives and other destructive devices. Well, yes, it is a government facility, but the governments are the states of New York and New Jersey, not the federal government. It was – and still is – owned by the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, and a more over-bureaucratized and union-saturated organization you’ll never find. Absolutely nothing happened in that huge, 7-building complex without at least dozens of people knowing about it.
Not only did the Port Authority control the complex, but the City of New York, the New York governor’s office, the Securities and Exchange Commission, and any number of banks all had operations in the World Trade Center. These are all organizations with lots of busybodies and security protocols.
In addition, veteran Manhattan developer Larry Silverstein had just won a mammoth new management contract from the Port Authority to run the WTC. It's beyond reason to think such an experienced and shrewd operator as Silverstein would bungle his due diligence by ignoring telltale signs of sabotage on the WTC structures. It's also the apex of cynicism to suggest that he would be complicit with spies and play along with their grand charade, crafting an innocent diversion like a management contract so new, the paperwork hadn't even come back from the lawyers before September 11.
Consider, too, the sheer volume of people from whom the prep work for 9-11 would have had to be hidden. Over 50,000 people worked in or visited the WTC every day – that’s greater than the population of many cities. It had a shopping mall, restaurants, subway stations, and a commuter rail station – all in the basement levels. Do you honestly think somebody could hack away drywall and strap plastic explosives to a steel beam without one person noticing?
A favorite bit of “ah-ha!” evidence conspiracy theorists like to trot out is the odd collapse of 7 WTC late in the afternoon of September 11. They like to say that without warning, the newest addition to the Trade Center complex fell of its own accord, hours after all the other structures in the complex had already been obliterated. Look at the pictures, they say – you see puffs of smoke, indicating explosives being detonated floor by floor.
There are so many facts here that conspiracy theorists ignore; it’s hard to know where to start. Fortunately, I don’t have to go into all of them – I’ve found a fairly comprehensive and easy-to-read description of the fall of 7 WTC on Wikipedia. While I’m normally hesitant to recommend much on that site, this material has references and research notes to copious to be faked.
- You’ll recall that nobody died in the collapse of 7 WTC. Firefighters noticed the building becoming unstable hours earlier, and made sure it was evacuated and nearby streets cleared well in advance of its falling.
- Media images of the building taken throughout that day and official reports of the afternoon provide documented evidence that the building was significantly, structurally damaged from the fall of the WTC's north tower.
- Popping sounds (not explosions) could be heard inside the building well before its collapse. These noises came from structural elements buckling and dislodging as the building shifted in preparation for its collapse.
- The smoky puffs visible in photos were from smoldering fires whose smoke was released when windows popped out their frames as the building fell.
Are You Smarter Than a Forensic Scientist?
Now, I suppose the most intransigent conspiracy theorist could insist that the news coverage was doctored, the fire department was running two sets of books when it was documenting events as the day unfolded, and that all of the scientists who have spent years studying the physics of this catastrophe are on the take.
Which is harder to imagine – that our government was audacious enough to orchestrate all of this and overcome so many prohibitive obstacles, or that some ill-advised and desperately suspicious citizens are audacious enough to believe our government could do it?
Quite simply, no proof, no logic, and no motive exists to justify such an outlandish accusation towards our government. For people like Medina to even hedge the possibility that legitimate questions remain over the planning, execution, and clean-up of 9-11 seems more than preposterous. It paints adherents to such suspicions with more than general silliness; it douses them with dismal acrylics of mean-spiritedness, spite, and absurdity.
We’ve moved past the time for such insipid speculation, and those who insist on perpetuating the fantasy of such unimaginable scales of state-sponsored terrorism need to cease and desist. Respecting those in authority – particularly within a democracy – remains our civic obligation unless we have proof to the contrary.
And if you believe you’ve got real proof, what makes you think a government that could pull off 9-11 is gonna let you spill the beans?
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Telling Time
Day 15 of 46 c Lenten Season 2010
Are you wearing a wristwatch right now?
I read a study someplace that said the younger you are, the greater the chances you don’t own a watch. And if you do, it’s more a fashion statement than a utilitarian accessory.
Why is that? People have worn watches for ages. However, since so many of our personal communication devices these days come with built-in clocks, wristwatches are becoming obsolete. And since the younger you are, the greater the chances you’re walking around with a cellphone, a wristwatch just seems redundant. It’s not that young people are necessarily more ambivalent about what time it is, they just don’t need a watch to tell them.
I must be old - I own three watches!
Tyranny of the Urgent
Remember when people thought the more electronics we have, the more expendable our time would become? Wow – what a fallacy, right? Indeed, the more gadgets we have, it seems we have even less time than ever. We still have the same 24-hour day, but there’s so much more to get done. Technology has both greased the wheels of old-time pursuits as well as opened up whole new worlds of things to do. Even if you’re an exceptionally disciplined person, running out of time at the end of the day can be a regular frustration.
A number of years ago, a pastor for whom I used to work gave me a little booklet entitled “Tyranny of the Urgent!” by Charles E. Hummel. Have you ever heard of it? My copy says “revised & expanded” but it’s still only 31 very small pages. Yet it speaks volumes about how we spend our time, and why.
Basically, Hummel says that although Christ lived a relatively short life by most anybody’s standards, His was the most perfect life ever on Earth, and everything He was sent here to do was accomplished completely within the span of about 30 years.
Kind of puts our lives into perspective, doesn’t it?
Never Rushed, Never Late
No matter how well you know the Bible, can you remember reading of a time when Christ was rushing anyplace? Was He ever behind schedule? Sure, He showed up at the tomb of Lazarus two days later, but He wasn’t late, was He?
Not only was Christ never late, He seemed to bathe in an abundance of time. Think of His discussion with Mary as Martha rushed about getting dinner ready. How about 40 days in the wilderness? Wouldn’t you think He’d just want to get Passion Week over and done with, knowing as He did what was going to happen? But He went through it all, one day at a time.
Imagine – the Savior of mankind, constrained by earthly flesh, without Internet access, mobile phones, or chauffeured SUVs, fulfilling all of the prophecies made of Him – mostly within the last three years of His life.
Flash forward to today. All of us worry about getting stuff done. On time. The sooner the better. Not that there’s anything wrong with deadlines, clocks, and calendars, but they seem to rule our days, don’t they? We tend to see time not as a resource but as a liability, or something of which there’s never enough. If time is a resource, it is prized like a luxury item.
Sure, Christ knew what time of day it was, what He needed to do next, and when His time on Earth would be over. But He never panicked that time was running out but He still had all of these prophecies to fulfill, all these sick people to heal, all these demons to exorcise, and all these truths to teach. He got frustrated that His 12 bumbling disciples never seemed to get the message the first time, but Christ's frustration stemmed from His love for them and their - our - pitiful human contrivances that sap our concentration.
I Pledge Allegiance to the Clock...
How often do you talk on your mobile phone while driving your car? You know that’s dangerous, but why do you do it? To save time, right? It’s part of that admirable time-saving skill called multi-tasking, isn’t it? Except experts are now saying that multi-tasking actually means most people can do many things poorly at the same time. Yes, some hyperactive people can learn to do more than one thing at a time, but how much better could those tasks be done individually? And how many of them need to get done at all? I can’t recall one instance of Christ literally multi-tasking in the Bible.
“Tyranny of the Urgent!” is such a great title because it so aptly depicts how we subjugate ourselves to time. And not just time – but urgency. How many mistakes do we make when we’re being urgent? We ignore things and forget others, some of which may be unimportant anyway, but none of which characterizes somebody who isn’t a slave to the clock.
Have you ever visited an overseas country and been frustrated at how long it took for anything to get done? For how many cultures is “manana” a favorite phrase? Obviously, Hummel isn’t endorsing the polar opposite of clock-watching: apathy, procrastination, or simple laziness. If you need to be at work by a certain time, you need to honor that. If church starts at a certain time, you should be there beforehand to prepare yourself for worship. If your kids need to be at baseball practice at 4:30, don’t make the coach wait for them to suit up.
Getting places early is still a virtue. Budgeting time for traffic, lines at the store, and other delays is part of prudent time management. Some things may be out of our control. Hummel doesn’t really touch on this, but life for us isn’t exactly like it was for Christ, is it? He didn’t have an unreasonable employer, a spouse bumped off their flight home, or a car that won’t start.
But He did have an eternal purpose for being here, and so do we. His work involved tasks we will never have to face – indeed, His substitutionary atonement served as His chief and crowning accomplishment. He saved us from God’s wrath. Glory be to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit! He did what none of us in the history of the world would ever have been able to do.
And our eternal purpose? To live for Him. To be His salt and light. Not to rack up for ourselves treasures on Earth by working 60-hour weeks. Not to juggle multiple friendships and commitments that compete for the same 24 hours we all have been given. Why do you promise so many things to so many people? Is it to justify your worth to them? Is it to make yourself important and essential? Is it because God has given you so many talents and skills that you need to share them with everybody?
We're Not As Necessary As We Think
Yeah, right. Motives are everything here, aren’t they? You’re not expendable, are you? Affirmation from as many people as possible is essential to happiness, isn’t it? So many things in our world present worthwhile opportunities to serve and become involved, how can we turn them down?
Have you ever realized that God’s sovereign will is going to be accomplished on this Earth whether you’re here or not? That’s not a fatalistic statement, nor am I saying you have no worth. It’s just the plain truth. Nobody dies without first fulfilling everything God has put them on this planet to do. You're not going to die before your time. At first, that can sound brutal. But think about it, and you'll see how comforting it really is.
God will save whom He will save. He ordains all events to suit His purposes. What He wants us to do is glorify Him in what we do, mirroring the fruits of His Spirit to those around us. He wants us to participate with Him in the work that He's planned since eternity past to happen right now, in this precise moment in the history of creation. That’s why you are here. Today.
Don’t fill up this time with all of your stuff. God gave Christ 30 years to save the world. And we think we can do better than that?
Are you wearing a wristwatch right now?
I read a study someplace that said the younger you are, the greater the chances you don’t own a watch. And if you do, it’s more a fashion statement than a utilitarian accessory.
Why is that? People have worn watches for ages. However, since so many of our personal communication devices these days come with built-in clocks, wristwatches are becoming obsolete. And since the younger you are, the greater the chances you’re walking around with a cellphone, a wristwatch just seems redundant. It’s not that young people are necessarily more ambivalent about what time it is, they just don’t need a watch to tell them.
I must be old - I own three watches!
Tyranny of the Urgent
Remember when people thought the more electronics we have, the more expendable our time would become? Wow – what a fallacy, right? Indeed, the more gadgets we have, it seems we have even less time than ever. We still have the same 24-hour day, but there’s so much more to get done. Technology has both greased the wheels of old-time pursuits as well as opened up whole new worlds of things to do. Even if you’re an exceptionally disciplined person, running out of time at the end of the day can be a regular frustration.
A number of years ago, a pastor for whom I used to work gave me a little booklet entitled “Tyranny of the Urgent!” by Charles E. Hummel. Have you ever heard of it? My copy says “revised & expanded” but it’s still only 31 very small pages. Yet it speaks volumes about how we spend our time, and why.
Basically, Hummel says that although Christ lived a relatively short life by most anybody’s standards, His was the most perfect life ever on Earth, and everything He was sent here to do was accomplished completely within the span of about 30 years.
Kind of puts our lives into perspective, doesn’t it?
Never Rushed, Never Late
No matter how well you know the Bible, can you remember reading of a time when Christ was rushing anyplace? Was He ever behind schedule? Sure, He showed up at the tomb of Lazarus two days later, but He wasn’t late, was He?
Not only was Christ never late, He seemed to bathe in an abundance of time. Think of His discussion with Mary as Martha rushed about getting dinner ready. How about 40 days in the wilderness? Wouldn’t you think He’d just want to get Passion Week over and done with, knowing as He did what was going to happen? But He went through it all, one day at a time.
Imagine – the Savior of mankind, constrained by earthly flesh, without Internet access, mobile phones, or chauffeured SUVs, fulfilling all of the prophecies made of Him – mostly within the last three years of His life.
Flash forward to today. All of us worry about getting stuff done. On time. The sooner the better. Not that there’s anything wrong with deadlines, clocks, and calendars, but they seem to rule our days, don’t they? We tend to see time not as a resource but as a liability, or something of which there’s never enough. If time is a resource, it is prized like a luxury item.
Sure, Christ knew what time of day it was, what He needed to do next, and when His time on Earth would be over. But He never panicked that time was running out but He still had all of these prophecies to fulfill, all these sick people to heal, all these demons to exorcise, and all these truths to teach. He got frustrated that His 12 bumbling disciples never seemed to get the message the first time, but Christ's frustration stemmed from His love for them and their - our - pitiful human contrivances that sap our concentration.
I Pledge Allegiance to the Clock...
How often do you talk on your mobile phone while driving your car? You know that’s dangerous, but why do you do it? To save time, right? It’s part of that admirable time-saving skill called multi-tasking, isn’t it? Except experts are now saying that multi-tasking actually means most people can do many things poorly at the same time. Yes, some hyperactive people can learn to do more than one thing at a time, but how much better could those tasks be done individually? And how many of them need to get done at all? I can’t recall one instance of Christ literally multi-tasking in the Bible.
“Tyranny of the Urgent!” is such a great title because it so aptly depicts how we subjugate ourselves to time. And not just time – but urgency. How many mistakes do we make when we’re being urgent? We ignore things and forget others, some of which may be unimportant anyway, but none of which characterizes somebody who isn’t a slave to the clock.
Have you ever visited an overseas country and been frustrated at how long it took for anything to get done? For how many cultures is “manana” a favorite phrase? Obviously, Hummel isn’t endorsing the polar opposite of clock-watching: apathy, procrastination, or simple laziness. If you need to be at work by a certain time, you need to honor that. If church starts at a certain time, you should be there beforehand to prepare yourself for worship. If your kids need to be at baseball practice at 4:30, don’t make the coach wait for them to suit up.
Getting places early is still a virtue. Budgeting time for traffic, lines at the store, and other delays is part of prudent time management. Some things may be out of our control. Hummel doesn’t really touch on this, but life for us isn’t exactly like it was for Christ, is it? He didn’t have an unreasonable employer, a spouse bumped off their flight home, or a car that won’t start.
But He did have an eternal purpose for being here, and so do we. His work involved tasks we will never have to face – indeed, His substitutionary atonement served as His chief and crowning accomplishment. He saved us from God’s wrath. Glory be to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit! He did what none of us in the history of the world would ever have been able to do.
And our eternal purpose? To live for Him. To be His salt and light. Not to rack up for ourselves treasures on Earth by working 60-hour weeks. Not to juggle multiple friendships and commitments that compete for the same 24 hours we all have been given. Why do you promise so many things to so many people? Is it to justify your worth to them? Is it to make yourself important and essential? Is it because God has given you so many talents and skills that you need to share them with everybody?
We're Not As Necessary As We Think
Yeah, right. Motives are everything here, aren’t they? You’re not expendable, are you? Affirmation from as many people as possible is essential to happiness, isn’t it? So many things in our world present worthwhile opportunities to serve and become involved, how can we turn them down?
Have you ever realized that God’s sovereign will is going to be accomplished on this Earth whether you’re here or not? That’s not a fatalistic statement, nor am I saying you have no worth. It’s just the plain truth. Nobody dies without first fulfilling everything God has put them on this planet to do. You're not going to die before your time. At first, that can sound brutal. But think about it, and you'll see how comforting it really is.
God will save whom He will save. He ordains all events to suit His purposes. What He wants us to do is glorify Him in what we do, mirroring the fruits of His Spirit to those around us. He wants us to participate with Him in the work that He's planned since eternity past to happen right now, in this precise moment in the history of creation. That’s why you are here. Today.
Don’t fill up this time with all of your stuff. God gave Christ 30 years to save the world. And we think we can do better than that?
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