pulmones

Moving on Again

2006-08-22T16:54:00.000-05:00

I just don't have enough patience to wait for my entire blogger account to get converted to the new beta system, so I went ahead and started a NEW BLOG AGAIN today. So far, I like the ease of use of beta quite well. See you over there, if you have the tolerance to make the move...

Upside Down?

2006-08-19T17:35:00.000-05:00

Not much time to blog right now,

except to say, "what's going on in Lebanon?"

If I am hearing and reading the news correctly, the Hezbellah is giving out charitable funds to help people in need in Lebanon and Israel is still involved in air raids in direct defiance of the UN ceasefire agreement. Lord, have mercy.

Global Cluelessness Quiz

2006-08-12T13:05:00.000-05:00

First of all, I must profess my surprised elation at the acceptance of the U.N. ceasefire agreement by Israli PM Ehud Olmort. [Side note: remember that Ehud dude from the book of Judges? He was the left-handed fellow that was able to sneak a knife into the king's quarters and drive it so far into the king's belly that the handle disappeared!] After reading that Olmort prayed with Pat Robertson for "victory for Israel" a few days ago, I guess I dismissed the prime minister as a one-dimensional Zionist. Glad to know that, unlike Mr. Robertson, Olmort apparently values peace more than heralding in the End Times. [Side note #2: don't get me started on my Pat Robertson rant. It's not pretty.] And now our prayers can be directed towards full compliance with the treaty's regulations on both sides. How beautiful was it that the U.S. and France worked out the ceasfire proposal together? Am I allowed to eat french fries again now?

Enough of that. I just discovered the Reuter's webpage a few days ago. I have been devouring it during my little periods of domestic loafing. If you ever wanted to understand any of these complex global issues that the news media occassionally reports, but never really explains, this is THE place to get the background stories. I just took this 6-question quiz about the most dangerous places in the world for children. It was a fun way to be introduced to my own ignorance. If, like me, you wanna pull your head out of the sand and try to be an informed global citizen, check it out for yerself.

Don't take my word for it.

2006-08-09T15:16:00.000-05:00

Since the most daring blog I've ever published got co-opted by a would-be-messiah (see previous post), here's an entry from today's blog over at Mother Jones. While your over there, you should also read this and this. Hopefully these can make my point for me.

If only.

2006-08-08T14:38:00.000-05:00

If only Tim LaHaye were right. I must admit that the idea of an ultra-fundamentalist pretribulation, premillinialist interpretation of the biblical "end times" has great appeal these days. I look at the daily news and want to just sigh "to hell with it all!" regularly enough. If I had a theology that could actually justify such an arrogant and seperatist emotion, life would be so much simpler. If I could cross a big black "x" over all those portions of the New Testament that speak about loving the world, serving others, caring for the poor and mistreated, working towards the redemption and re-Creation of the cosmos (heaven and earth), and especially having to endure the kind of trials that placed Jesus on the death timbers; and if I could press my big yellow highlighter over the words in Revelation that reinforce a detached and inhumane position that actually looks forward to God's Wrath being poured out on others while I magically get sucked into the sky with the Rapture Tractor Beam, then I could confidently root for the greatest super-power-duo in history -- the unstoppable military and economic Titan, the United States of America, holding hands with God's chosen nation, the very people that carried the ark of the covenant out into battle (attached with poles, so nobody gets fried) in order to exterminate it's idol-worshipping enemies!

But the folly of this recently-subscribed-to cultural and theological phenomenon is being exploited in this latest round of Middle East turmoil. Now, on the world stage, we behold a particular brand of proudly self-proclaimed Christians (and evangelicals) making the executive decisions for the U.S. to assist Israel in the abysmally cowardly act of bombing Lebanese civilians, the majority of whom are Arab Christians. The powerful "New Testament people of God" have gotten in bed with the "Old Testament people of God" in an all-out effort that effectively pronounces an apocalypse of terror on the meek and unpowerful "New Testament people of God!" If we were to truly look at the thematic emphases of the Scriptures and then superimpose a Tim LaHaye-esque "look for the comtemporary signs" approach to Revelation, we would find that the U.S.A. is the Beast, or the Whore of Babylon, or the Anti-Christ, or some combination of all three. God would be on the side of the defenseless Christians in Lebanon and against the imperial forces of greed and violence that have become America and Israel.

But what if God decided to change his mind and take a LaHaye-ian approch after all? "You know what, other two parts of the Trinity, that whole fundy rapture thing has got to be one of the most egregious abuses of my Holy Word since the Inquisition and the Nazi regime. But I'm so sick of the way so-called believers carry on in Our Name, killing each other and ignoring their roles as ambassadors of light and love for the world, I think I'll just do it their way after all. Son, get on down there with Your angels and pull out all those beautiful children that have suffered for Our sake, who have practiced peace and self-sacrificing love. Then get back up here and let's give the rest of 'em a universal bath of blood and fire. And no more rainbows."

Newfound Freedom / Energy to Air it Out

2006-08-08T14:23:00.000-05:00

I've been working only three days a week for the past month, stretching out my vacation time in staying home and helping Jolie with the baby and his brother. My social life has all but vanished, as anyone with a newborn will readily acknowledge. This is frustrating mainly because I feel so deeply that the primary reason why I am HERE NOW has to do with befriending people that have sidestepped the Christian mainstream. So, while I'm unable to act on that conviction as fervently during this season, I've suddenly got a little bit of time to blog [the correlation between being a homebody and being a good blogger is quite high, in my opinion].

Ironically, I've pretty much cast off any potential readership over the past few months -- constantly changing my address, blogging infrequently, literally telling people that I'm done altogether. Now that I've got some time and gumption, I'm faced with the lonely reality that I'm blogging this time by and for myself. So, imaginary reader, let's get this going with some no holds barred bloginatin'...

Quote of the Day / Quote of the Week

2006-08-06T14:46:00.000-05:00

We have a new person working in the art department at Central Market. Until yesterday, I'd only had a few briefs words with her. Yesterday, though, I learned that she had lived in Beirut until only a few years ago. She and her mother live in the U.S., but she has a lot of family and even more friends that are suddenly trapped in a war zone. As you might imagine, it has been increasingly challenging to keep up telephone contact. So far, to her knowledge, everyone is all right, she says. Unexpectedly, she turns around to face me and says in an alarming calm tone,

You know what's so f**ked up about all this? I live over here in the U.S. in safety and prosperity while my taxes are given to Israel so they can bomb the f**k out of my family!

This prompts me to finish reading this week's e-newletter from Sojourner magazine. Here's a rather long quotation they have linked from an online article at Christianity Today's website:

Sunday morning, I woke up to the news that an Israeli air strike hit a residential building used as a shelter in the southern Lebanese town of Qana, killing and wounding more than 65 people, including 30 infants and young children. According to tradition, Qana is the village where Jesus Christ performed his first miracle by turning water into wine (John 2).

Now I hear of fellow Christians who enjoy seeing the turning of water into blood in the name of end-time prophecy. Their call should rather be to turn water into wine of gladness, peace, and life. Are we looking for the presence of Christ in Lebanon and Israel or for the presence of U.S. smart bombs?

I recently received an e-mail from a friend who lives in Washington, D.C., informing me that a sign displayed in front of an independent evangelical church simply states: "Go Israel!" This news came as I learned that the father of one of the six-year-old students at our school had been killed in an air strike as he went to get bread for his family. For the sake of the children's tears, for the sake of the children's blood in this terrible war, for the sake of the children's smiles, please say and write: "Go for peace!" "Go for reconciliation!" "Go for love!" Go for a cease-fire!"

Ms. Rice, I heard recently that you are an ardent evangelical. I have always believed that evangelicals are peacemakers. They are those who hold fast to the gospel of peace and reconciliation. Please answer the above children's prayer. Help me at least not to lose faith in calling myself an evangelical.

Until such prayers and requests are answered, we continue at J.L. Schneller Institute in West Beqaa to pray and to work for peace. We continue providing care to hundreds of displaced people who took shelter at our institution and to others in neighboring areas. Please keep us and all of Lebanon in your prayers.

pictures you don't want to see

When Headline News and Lectionary Readings Meet

2006-07-25T09:29:00.000-05:00

Read this in our morning prayer today:

Matthew 26:51 Then they came on him—grabbed him and roughed him up. One of those with Jesus pulled his sword and, taking a swing at the Chief Priest's servant, cut off his ear.
52-54Jesus said, "Put your sword back where it belongs. All who use swords are destroyed by swords. Don't you realize that I am able right now to call to my Father, and twelve companies—more, if I want them—of fighting angels would be here, battle-ready? But if I did that, how would the Scriptures come true that say this is the way it has to be?"

How is it that we have nuanced and backpeddled so fervently for 2000 years that followers of Jesus can't hear the plainspoken imperative any more to absorb violence rather than to wage warfare and retaliation? This imperative is one of -- if not the most -- uniformly agreed upon ethical emphases in the New Testament, resounding from the Sermon on the Mount to the hammering of nails at Golgotha to the succession of martyrdom from Stephen, Paul, and the Apostles all the way through to the present time, and finally completed with the image of the Victor in Revelation covered in blood -- not the blood of his enemies, but the blood of His own torture -- defeating the powers of violence and greed once and for all.

May Your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. Make haste, Prince of Peace to establish Your reign in the Middle East. Vindicate the needless deaths of innocent children throughout the world. And comfort those who mourn.

Epilogue to FIFA

2006-07-10T21:09:00.000-05:00

I'm only a newcomer to the sport, but I found much to agree with in this article. On now to the next expenditure of time and neurons...

A French Toast

2006-07-09T10:02:00.000-05:00

Choose this day whom you will cheer for. As for me and my self, I will root for France.

I appear to be in the minority on this decision, but what else is new. Even here in Austin I've found few fellow France-sympathizers. Yesterday I had a World Cup display with stacks of Peroni (Italian beer) and Kronenbourg (French beer) at Central Market. Peroni outsold Kronenbourg 10 to 1. And, trust me, Peroni is not a superior beverage by any means.

I've had an intriguing interaction with customers in relation to France ever since I started working in beer and wine. There is that occassional middle-aged woman that will respond assertively when I suggest a French wine with, "Oh, no! I'll never support the French again. You know, after the way they treated us when the war with Iraq began and all." But for every staunch anti-French customer I encounter, there are five who are all the more eager to buy French wine simply to counter what they feel is a tremendously smug and ingnorant political posture. "I'd certainly rather support the French economy than Napa Valley's."

[This isn't much of a choice, economically speaking, if you ask me. Supporting some mousy French guy who did nothing special other than inherit a chateau the size of Travis County versus helping a vineyard that is inevitably attached to some fading celebrity (i.e. Coppola, Andretti) or business tycoon with too much time on their hands leaves much to be desired.]

I myself attribute much of my new openness to France to the adopting of Martin of Tours as my "saint of inspiration" on the occassion of taking the Oaken Oath last month.

But in terms of soccer / football, the choice to pull for France today is almost entirely about these particular teams. In my viewing of the games this year I have found that there may be at least a little something to the reputation the Italian team has for "diving." Granted, their goalie and defense has been outstanding, but their overall play hasn't been particularly impressive to me. And the fact that measely Team USA managed to outplay them doesn't help their cause with me either.

Then there's Team France. Although they weren't stellar out of the gate, they have been uber-solid in the elimination games. The way they exposed Brazil as the Emperor with no clothes was brilliant. Watching all those long-haired Brazilians whimper, even when they got multiple "Michael Jordan" calls in the last 10 minutes was like a brief portrait of the apocalyptic vindication I long to see on That Day. And France's shaven-headed veteran leader has outshown the showmanship of so many of the South American flamboyants. When it comes right down to it, I'd still take a Larry Bird over a Kobe Bryant any day. A leader who knows himself, what his is capable of, and how he can make his team excel will always grab my allegiance.

And so, with only 90-ish minutes until game time, I say, along with the menu at IHOP, "Vive La French Toast."

Anticipation

2006-06-30T22:58:00.000-05:00

Welp, Camden's "due date" isn't until July 17th, but I'm pretty certain he's not going to wait that long. Jolie and I had to turn off the DVD we checked out tonight because some sporadically intense contractions were happening. Now that we're all packed up, we're going to try to get some sleep and see what transpires...

And the winner is...

2006-06-20T15:53:00.000-05:00

I hope Melissa will be pleased to see something other than the shedding lizard on top of my blog now.

I've watched a lot of sports in the last two weeks. Due entirely to the nationalist enthusiasm of our new British housemate, Andy, I decided to give futbal a chance. So my first World Cup viewing took place at 8:00 a.m. at a local sports bar that was filled with pro-England fans. I will gladly confess that I've always been snobbishly anti-soccer, and that it's nice at my age to find something new to enjoy. The World Cup is a lot of fun to watch.

Then there's the NBA. Again, I'll admit openly that I've had a distaste for professional basketball that can be marked somewhere around the middle of Michael Jordan's imperial reign. The league made far too much money in too short of a time period, and the egos went haywire. But it is the Mavericks, after all, in a position to win their first title. So, when I've had the leisure, I've glared at the TV whilst it projected images of Nowitzski flailing or Wade fading. And there is still much entertainment value available for the final 5-10 minutes of the fourth quarter on.

Last night, however, I took the opportunity to watch the final hockey game of the year. After my beloved Stars took such an early and crappy exodus, I rebuked the rest of the Stanley Cup playoffs. But, when the Oilers came back from a 3-1 games deficit, I anxiously popped the cork off the Unibroue 15th Anniversary strong golden ale that I was comped earlier that day and eagerly rooted for the underdog Edmontonians (they had, after all, taken out the Wing in glorious fashion). Although the Oilers came up short, I was not disappointed in the least. Within 5 minutes of TV viewing, I had the meagerest of epiphanies -- hockey is, by far, my favorite sport.

That tingling in your gut that comes in the final 2 minutes of a college football game, or the 9th inning of a World Series, or even in the last 5 minutes of the NBA finals happens for the entire 60 minutes in the Stanley Cup. Hockey takes the best elements of soccer and football -- and adds grown men with sticks on ice! Even the cameraman who can't keep up with the puck can't ruin the most exciting game in the world of sports.

Here's to you, Lord Stanley, for invoking the greatest game on earth.

For the sake of arbitrariness, I give you my top five sports:

5. College basketball -- So much parody, so many underdogs to cheer for, and basketball still played as a team.
4. World Cup Soccer -- 4 billion people can't be that wrong, can they? This is the best place (not the Olympics) for athleticism and world culture to meet with intensity.
3. ML Baseball -- Slow enough to watch casually and enjoy conversation with friends, but rife with head games, individual achievements and unscriptable moments of glory.
2. College football -- The place where the crowd is most involved (in the U.S.), the energy is palpable, and heart can occasionally outweigh skill.
1. NHL Hockey -- Non-stop edge-of-your-seat adrenalin showcases feats of sensational power and speed with beauty and heroic self-sacrifice.

Shedding My Blog Skin

2006-05-04T08:56:00.000-05:00

I think I'm at the point of readiness to embark on a slight variation on this whole blog theme.

Assuming some of my creative energies will return if they are properly oiled, I would like to shut down this here half-efforted blogaroo. In its stead, I will be attempting to create a monthly e-newsletter, which will allow me to be a bit more vulnerable and confessional with those that I know have a knack towards prayer and encouragement, and to especially take the time to refine whatever thoughts I've been tossing around into something more like an article and less like a two-paragraphed blog entry.

If you are still out there and you have any opinons about this, please chime in. Also, if you would like to be on the aforementioned distribution list, send me an email so I can include you when the time comes...

As if I needed any incentive,

2006-04-22T19:54:00.000-05:00

To give mind to machines, they are calling it
out of the world, out of the neighborhood, out of the body.
They have bound it in the brain, in the hard shell
of the skull, in order to bind it in a machine.

From the heron flying home at dusk,
from the misty hollows at sunrise,
from the stories told at the row's end,
they are calling the mind into exile
in the dry circuits of machines.

from A Timbered Choir, Wendell Berry, 1990

Ironies of Biblical Proportion

2006-04-09T22:12:00.000-05:00

I consider the episode of Jesus' life that is rehearsed on Palm Sunday to be, perhaps, the single most ironic episode in history. The idea of putting myself there, in the story, among the first century masses, and chiming along with them words of praise to the long-awaited Messiah elicits a myriad of tense thoughts. I agree with the shouts of Hosanna, yet I wonder why I would want to mimic such a tragically fickle mob with overblown zeal and under-developed discernment. Mostly, I try not to recognize the self-same enthusiasm and lip-service as a regular component of my own soul's response to the Christ. In some ways, psychologically, Palm Sunday hurts more than Good Friday.

In less epic scales of irony, I've become wholly convinced that my life with minimal internet interaction is a more glorious path towards humanity. I'm pretty sure pulmones may be hosting it's final days, because the other alternative is to blog so infrequently that no one is left to read (already happened?). I'm thinking more about writing some kind of monthly or bi-monthly e-letter with life updates and any artistic noodling I can evoke instead.

Finally, I leave these excerpts from Jesus and the Victory of God by N.T. Wright. I'm scouring through this mega-theology book as part of my Lenten contemplation. These words are wrought with encouragement, irony, and potential danger:

Jesus, like the founder(s) of the Essenes, and like John the Baptist, apparently envisaged that, scattered about Palestine, there would be small groups of people loyal to himself, who would get together to encourage one another, and would act as members of a family, sharing some sort of common life and, in particular, exercising mutual forgiveness. It was because this way of life was what it was, while reflecting the theology it did, that Jesus' whole movement was thoroughly, and dangerously, 'political.'

A Month Old Thought

2006-03-26T22:41:00.000-06:00

Just as I was about to delete the following statement from a report I wrote a month ago, I decided to paste it here as it continues to sum up so much of what I'm thinking and hoping to be rebirthed from. It also reminds me of the Dessert Fathers and Mothers of old.

Most persons in the U.S. are silently and unconsciously worshipping the idol of self-autonomy, consumption and technological progress. This quiet religion may be the single-most difficult challenge for the Gospel -- mainly because nearly all of us who are attempting to bear the news of the Gospel are also either unaware of our allegiances ourselves, or simply overwhelmed and underpowered.

Goings On

2006-03-12T22:23:00.000-06:00

Confession: I did, in fact, sneak onto the internet a couple of times this past week. But the overall effect is still very much there, as I feel more freedom to "noodle around" with other things in the absence of the web surfing time. The hardest part hasn't been keeping up with other people's blogs, but not knowing whether the Stars won until the morning paper arrives.

Lent at the Abbey has been eventful and thoroughly enjoyable. We have opened up our Sunday night gathering to any and every friend we could think of, and the result has been two really fresh evenings with new and surprising faces and some energetic conversations.

We are gearing up for a big Saint Patrick's Day party on Friday. Tacks, the Boy Disaster will be performing. Homebrew will abound. The Celtic spirit will stir.

As of tomorrow, my role at Central Market will change. After two years in the bulk department as the coffee and tea specialist, I am now 20 yards across the floor in the Beer and Wine dept., training to become the beer specialist. This will hopefully result in a slight raise, but more importantly it will give me something new and exciting to learn about (something I'm already pretty passionate about) and afford me the opportunity to mix it up with some people that I already enjoy being around.

Speaking of beer, I'm pretty excited about the brew that is fermenting in the bucket right now. We are trying to pull off a Passion Fruit Wit, which is a light and refreshing Belgian-style ale, seasoned with the fruit that is most closely associated with Holy Week. If all goes well, the Abbey and its guest will have some pretty special stuff to partake of during the week of Christ's Passion.

Last and not the least bit least, Jolie and I found out on Monday that we will be having another boy! The ultrasound rendered a clear and unequivical image of the little dude's boy part, and so now we know. Connor called it right before we left for the appointment. He told us he was going to have a little brother, and he was right. We are exceedingly excited (we both laughed and cried at the same time when we saw the mini-penis), and we hope to come to some consensus about a name in the near future...

Because some of you asked . . .

2006-03-10T20:14:00.000-06:00

Here are a few pics from our recent trip to Xcaret. Go if you ever get the chance; it's amazing.

"Targum"

2006-03-05T22:40:00.000-06:00

Tonight I read my first written "targum," inspired from the lectionary gospel reading from Mark. It's fairly long, and has a bit of a spoken word attitude at times (that's my disclaimer). If you've got the time, give it a read and throw me a comment. I'll enjoy reading your responses next Sunday...

Mark 1:9-15 Targum

And it came to pass.
Mark’s whiplash, slide-show storytelling hurls us straight into an immediate recognition –
This tale he begins to tell is itself a piece of rising action
Smack dab in the middle of a much larger Epic.

The epic that begins with “in the beginning.”
The epic that depicts a God speaking Creation into being and saying “it is good.”
Even “it is VERY good” when He gets to the penultimate of His designs, man and womankind.

The story, hardly yet in motion, encounters the essential conflict right away –
These self-same creatures that were originally “very good” did something very bad.
In pride and pseudo-ignorance, they rejected the Creator’s best intentions
And imposed their own selfish desires, eased along by the serpent’s fruit-lubricants.

Anthropos, being cast out of God’s intimate paradise,
Goes from bad to worse in record time.
A tower, a flood, a rainbow.
A series of covenants between a swarthy and unlikely cast of characters
And the aforementioned Creator God, now speaking new possibilities directly to a few fear-stricken chosen.

To Abram – “I will make you the father of many nations and a blessing to all.”
To Moses – “I will deliver you.”
To Israel – “I will be your God and you will be My People.”

But just as before, the story goes on, the people repeatedly reject their part of the deal and test the patience and faithfulness of the Lord.
Too disgusted to speak directly any longer, God ordains certain prophets to speak on His behalf.
Harsh words. Mute response. Increasingly stern consequences.
Promised Land plundered. Israel and Judah in exile.

Efforts to rebuild Zion repetitiously end in vanity.
God is utterly silent.
Generation after generation after generation after generation after generation
After generation after generation after generation after generation after generation.
400 years of silence.

But wait! Suddenly a messenger appears.
A prophet like the days of old.
A fullback in camel’s hair to prepare the hole for the star tailback to cut through.

AND IT CAME TO PASS
In those days that Jesus came.
Mark, the stereotypical blue-collared man who’s “not one for overstatement”
Tells us all we need to know in two words – “Jesus came.”

Herein lies the meaning of the appearance of angels ;
The immaculate conception; the donkey-ride to Bethlehem;
Ceasar Augustus’ census; no room in the inn; the manger;
Shepherds; a heavenly host; wise men;
Even Yeshua’s entire boyhood in Egypt and Nazareth;
And everything he saw and said from age 0-30.

Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized in the Jordan.
The body of water that the ancestor Joshua was to cross over
Is now the liquid that this Joshua must be immersed within.

The Son of God has come out of the closet, as it were.
It’s public now.
Jesus’ first act, according to Mark,
Is not a miracle or a sermon or a calling of disciples.
It’s a baptism. The christening of His identity.

Kai euthus! Mark’s favorite phrase, meaning “and immediately.”
He uses it like a home-movie without a fader.
Here’s the kids playing on the beach kai euthus!
Here’s Nancy at the prom kai euthus!
Here’s Billy graduating from college.
No warning. Just a narrative judo chop.
Mark uses it 9 times in chapter one alone.
Quantum physics isn’t as new as you might think.

And immediately, coming up out of the water,
He saw, being opened, the heavens, and the spirit as a dove
Descending towards him.
And there was a voice out of the heavens
‘You are the son of Me, the beloved,
with you I am well pleased.”
Translation: it is very good. Again. Finally.

Kai euthus! And immediately the spirit drives him out
Into the wilderness.
Ten verses from now He will be driving out demons,
But first it is He that is driven into wilderness –
That place that Joshua the Elder finally managed to lead the people out of after endless years of wandering,
Is now the landscape of Christ’s first and potentially most lethal battle.

And he had been in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan
And he was among wild beasts, and the angels were ministering to him.
Again, brevity is Mark’s style.
What happened in the woods, stays in the woods.
If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask those other gospel-chroniclers.

And after John was imprisoned, Jesus came to Galilee
Proclaiming the good news of God
And saying “the time has been fulfilled
And the Kingdom of God has approached.
Repent and believe in the good news.”

So one day Jesus, a 30-year old eligible and curious bachelor,
Leaves town and gets his head pushed under the river-water
By a locust-breath-ed hermit,
Hears his Dad utter a phrase he hasn’t used in aeons,
Gets catapulted into the forest where he stairs down his arch-enemy
And then simply shows up again in his hometown.

But everything you can imagine has changed in the meantime.
Joseph and Mary’s kid drowned in the Jordan
And God’s Begotten One rose up in his stead.
A carpenter left town around six weeks ago and
The human embodiment of the Kingdom of God returned.

The time has been fulfilled for what exactly?
The conflict from Act One of the Epic is being resolved
And harmony is being restored to the cosmos.
God is speaking in the clearest possible voice.
What Adam and Eve had done
Is now being undone
In a dramatic gesture of such profound and swelling beauty
That you just might not believe it.
What is the good news?
Just told you.
How can I believe it?
Better clean the wax out of your ears
And drop some visine in your eyeballs.
If you’re willing to be real with yourself and come clean
About all the bullshit you’ve been rolling around in,
Then belief will be the first natural act you’ve ever made in your life.

Mark it down.

Observing Lent

2006-03-01T19:56:00.000-06:00

We didn't have internet access for 5 days while we were in Mexico last week, and somehow I managed to survive! So, part of my observation of Lent this year will involve fasting from the internet. I realize that this may make certain forms of connection a tad more difficult, but I certainly don't expect any permanent relational damage to take place. Besides, I'll try to "make the rounds" on Sundays as part of the break-fast for Resurrection Day. In the meantime, here's a video to consider while I'm away.

May the Cross and Resurrection of Christ be your all in all.

Return from Xcaret

2006-03-01T19:49:00.000-06:00

Jolie and I are back and well-rested from our brief repose in the Mayan Riviera. As opposed to our usual vacation ritual, which is to find a spot with tons to do and be as active as possible, this was a true Sabbath. We ate, laid on the beach, read books, ate some more, enjoyed simple conversations, and went to bed early. As lame as it may sound, it was great to enjoy such simplicity and peace with each other and the Creator.

Now we're back, and we turn towards Lent and the second half of pregnancy...

Caribbean L(o)unging

2006-02-22T05:58:00.000-06:00

Because Jolie and I have been married for 9 years and 350 days, we will be escaping to Mexico for a few days! Enjoy Mardi Gras, kids. We'll be back for Lent...

Saison, I

2006-02-19T14:46:00.000-06:00

I threw out the annual rye seeds way back in early December, just a couple of days before Winter Part One. Austin, I maintain, has two winters – each lasting for a period of 2-5 days. Winter Part One typically happens in late November or early December, followed by two full months of springlike conditions, and finally Winter Part Two, which happens in late February or early March.

Winter Part One laid waste to our humble little garden, and so, too, the rye seeds were frozen solid. The telltale sign that the seeds hadn’t survived was that when springlike conditions returned after two days of 20 degree sludge, none of the grackles, doves or squirrels took any interest in them. “What a complete waste of time that was,” I said both aloud and to myself.

Advent came and went. New Year’s happened. Epiphany entered and exited. The hot streak continued, as did the record-setting spell of rainlessness. A few pockets of rye sprouted up, but the majority of the seeds were still visible on the ground, worthless I was certain.

When the groundhog saw his shadow, there was no reason to believe that the land of Tejas was under his jurisdiction. Saint Brigid did in fact bring us some rain, but the weather was still more springish than winterly. After the slight wet was immediately soaked up by the cracked earth and 70 degree sun, everyone declared Austin’s winter “over.” But I didn’t flinch. I knew Winter Part Two would arrive in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. And I was right. We are now in day three of a bonafide cold front, complete with the thinnest layer of icy drizzle you can imagine.

But, before you start thinking I’m too full of myself, let me tell you how I was wrong, too. No sooner than the sun had returned from Saint Brigid’s moisture-blessing than the Abbey had itself a yard loosely peppered with bright green rye. A tried-and-true germination resurrection! If it didn’t go the way of Lazarus, it at least went the way of Walt Disney’s most desperate scientific grasp, sans cryogenic sophistication.

Knowing that Winter Part Two was only a day away, I decided to call upon an encore from nature. Connor and I faithfully broadcast the remaining rye seeds all about the bald spots in the yard. Hopefully we’ll have a bright green lawn by the time Saint Patrick comes to visit.

Just goes to show: not only do you never know which seeds will end up taking root, but you can’t even be certain when the good seeds will bear fruit. The farmer can only toss ‘em out there every season and stay in a posture of meekness with the earth he hopes to inherit.

A Beautiful Day For A Wedding

2006-02-07T21:41:00.000-06:00

I had the honor today of marrying two of the friends I have made as a result of working at Central Market. Jolie was the witness and the photographer. 5 people, a breath-taking view, a cloudless blue sky, and a Beautiful Creator.

Quotes That Have Nestled in My Brain as a Result of Watching the State of the Union Address

2006-02-02T14:48:00.000-06:00

To defend your ideas is quite different from standing, no matter how self-righteously, on the mere sound of a word. To say that you believe in "freedom," for instance, may make you feel proud and righteous, but this has nothing to do with philosophy, or, for that matter, with freedom, unless you are willing to spell out exactly what it is you stand for, what it is that you believe, and why it is that this "freedom," as you call it, is so desirable. But most students, as well as many professional philosophers, get caught up in such attractive, admirable words, which we call buzz words (emphasis theirs)... Indeed, virtually everyone believes in "freedom" but the question is what it is that they believe in.
(from The Big Questions: A Short Introduction to Philosophy, Solomon, 1986, p. 3

Serious, reflective Christians find themselves increasingly at odds with the dominant values of consumer capitalism and its supportive military patriotism; there is no easy or obvious way to hold together core faith claims and the social realities around us. Reflective Christians are increasingly "resident aliens."
(from Cadences of Home, Brueggemann, 1997, p. 2)

In the face of an empire that rules through military and economic control, what is the shape of a community that serves a ruler who brings reconciliation and peace by sacrificial death rather than military might? If the empire elevates economic greed and avarice into civic virtues, while Paul dismisses such a way of life as idolatrous, then how does a Christian community shaped by Paul's gospel live its life in the empire?
(from Colossians Remixed, Walsh & Keesmaat, 2004, p. 61)

[The church] has, for the most part, stood silently by while a predatory economy has ravaged the world, destroyed its natural beauty and health, divided and plundered its human communities and households. It has flown the flag and chanted the slogans of empire. It has assumed with the economists that "economic forces" automatically work for good and has assumed with the industrialists and militarists that technology determines history. It has assumed with almost everybody that "progress " is good, that it is good to be modern and up with the times. It has admired Ceasar and comforted him in his depredations and defaults. But in its de facto alliance with Ceasar, Christianity connives directly in the murder of Creation.
(from Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community, Berry, 1993, p. 114 - as read in Colossian Remixed)

To call this an imperial presidency is unfair to emperors.
(from this news article)

A Recipe Share

2006-02-02T14:35:00.000-06:00

This sharing the responsibility for common meals thing at the Abbey has really been a challenge for me. I've quite a knack for discovering fun facts about saints and finding interesting dishes to go with them. But the actual performance of these meals has been kind of nerve-racking. I usually bite off more than I normally chew. Jolie has come to my aid at times; but her pregnant disposition has decided that I'm on my own now! Anyway, here's the first original recipe that I've ever created:

begin with this basic St. Brigid's Oaten Bread recipe
double the amount of sugar (to 2 tablespoons)
be prepared to add a LOT more flour than the recipe calls for (maybe because I used margarine?)
When bread is baked, cut into pie-shaped slices
Pour 4 tablespoons of mixed fruit (I used strawberries, blueberries and blackberries) over the top
Add one dallup of whip cream
Sprinkle a tablespoon of Irish Cream over the top

And presto!
St. Brigid's Oaten Tart Delight
tm Oak Grove Abbey 2006

My Alibi

2006-01-29T15:50:00.000-06:00

Not much time for blogging right now. It's not that I don't have just as many nearly-nothings to write about as always -- I do, and then some.

It's just that I am spending my high-tech time performing other mandatory procedures right now:

scanning job openings
writing resumes
writing cover letters
gathering contact and reference information
researching automobiles
researching Caribbean vacations
writing my monthly report
manually entering phone numbers into my new cell phone - twice (*#%!)
evesdropping on the monastic yahoo group I just joined
catching up on really old emails

Hoping to return soon. Or at least have a different alibi. Prayers, as always, are much coveted...

Pulmonics

2006-01-17T21:03:00.000-06:00

The thick peppery clouds of Por Larranaga flouting in and out of my mouth. The warm life-water coating my throat. My hands are already cold from typing in the brisk night air. Sufjan Stevens takes me on a journey to an Illinois I didn't know before. Jesus, your Spirit-wind wax over these beloved ones:

Alyssa: Jason: Paul: Melissa: Sean: Chris: Antony: Jolie: Connor: Rod: Dave: Don: Don: Mack: Matthew: Barry: Mark: Rochelle: Ashley: Tim: Jennifer: David: Jenny: Callaway: Tim: Ron: Ron: Sondra: G.W.: Sharla: Glendene: Hubert: Joei: Les: Paul: Tracy: Katie: Chris: Bonnie: Dempsey: Linda: Ryan: Mark: Brian: Bob: Justin: John: Al: Peg: Heather: Emily: Stephen: Steven: Tony: Lu Ann: Melissa: Seth: Joe: Joe: Kevin: Randy: Natasha: Alicia: Christina: Cathy: Reggie: Jessica: Susanna: Paul: Mark: Glen: David: David: Steve: Steve: Paula: Micah: Alyssa: Ian: Liam: Jan: Bruce: Jason: Greg: Enid: Danya: Rick: Evan: Leslie: Erika: Daniel: Andrew: Christi: Josh: Dave: Shawn: Jeremy: Blake: Matt: Mindy: Bob: Debbie: Mike: George: John: Brian: Michelle: George: Allison: : : : : : :

Beauty will save the world.
Christ, reign. Christ, refrain. Christ, enter. Christ, move.

Mammon, 3 More Pieces

2006-01-13T22:09:00.000-06:00

Thank you to Arlan, Chris, Jolie and Al (the abbey's landlord) for your feedback in reference to my last blog. Amazingly, my head feels much clearer as a result of just trying to give words to some of the givens in my noggin. I've been able to pinpoint at least three significant middle pieces to this current puzzle:

1. I'm searching in earnest now for another job. The nearly two years at Central Market have been an indispensable portion of my journey and I have nary a regret about my time there. But, there are a pile of reasons why now is the time to move on. The two most obvious reasons are that most of the people I have befriended are no longer there (and we have still been able to hang on to regular community-forming times together) and that our financial scenario now requires something more substantial. [If someone were to say "I really like what you are doing there, Greg. I'll pay you to stay on," then I suppose I might re-consider.] I've got my eyes set on something in the academic world -- either some form of advisor role at UT or maybe even teaching at the local community college (philosophy?). We'll see...

2. I'm going to continue to cultivate my dreams of starting a small business. To begin with, I've got a lot of research to do -- not so much demographic (that will come later), but trying out ideas on people who are in a position to shoot straight with me. Early timelines and business proposals will be noodled out in the coming months.

3. I'm going to try to generate fundraising strategies for the abbey itself, rather than primarily for my family. There are a myriad of ways in which people and local congregations could support the Oak Grove idea, and it's high time I became a passionate advocate. Why couldn't someone support, say, Sean, who is also working in a service industry for peanuts for no other reason than because he wants to love people; or Jason, whose tremendous gifts as a drummer place him in the midst of an amazing missional network, but who has to try to live from gig to gig with no consistent income? I want the people who leave the abbey to have as much financial health as possible, so that they can be in a position to start their own communities and small businesses with confidence and minimal risk. Or maybe someone might want to help with our bills, or books, or a budget item dedicated to hospitality? Lots of untapped potentiality here.

Daddy, help me put this puzzle together.

Mammon, Outer Pieces

2006-01-12T10:15:00.000-06:00

I'm really struggling with the "money piece" of Jesus' Way these days. I hope that trying to articulate some of it will aid a Spirit-led process of proper filtration. There's a lot at stake (methinks).

I'll try to use the method we use with Connor and his new dinosaur puzzles -- first take out the pieces that make make the outer border and begin to form a frame, then take the middle pieces out and put them in place one at a time:

When Anthony the Great (popular father of monasticism) heard "sell all your possessions and give them to the poor" he did it. He sold his substantial inheritance, made provisions for his sister, let the tenants on his parent's estate have the land, and gave the rest to the poor. He helped communities start little businesses, but the vast majority of the "profit" went back to the poor; not to financial security.

Working in a retail profession has definitely afforded me the opportunity to be "in the world." I've been right smack dab in the world's belly for nearly two years now, befriending those that the religious institutions have marginalized and trying to mirror their work rhythms as much as possible.

Retail work, though, by it's very nature, is in many respects the antithesis of the Gospel. Being reduced to a name that clocks in and out -- in order to help private or public owners or stockholders reap a disproportionate profit from mechanical labor is exploitive. Reinforcing the amoral principles of global capitalism, namely finding the place on earth where goods can be produced most cheaply and sending them to the place where they can be sold most expensively, is highly exploitive. Although many Christian friends and family may find this critique to be trivial and naive idealism to be dismissed with a cavalier brush of the hand, the God whose voice I am learning to recognize consistently whispers His desire for justice and righteousness to be part of my active worship to Him.

I can't work in retail and earn enough money to support my family's habitation in central Austin. More importantly, I can't provide my family with enough predictability in my working schedule for them to thrive socially. Knowing my weekly schedule 3 days in advance keeps my wife in a cruel jail sentence and places unnecessary strain on our desperate efforts at family and abbey rhythms.

There is New Testament evidence of persons being "sent" as apostles with financial support accompanying them in both formal and informal expressions. Paul eagerly tries to prick the church's conscience to joyfully give to those who sacrifice certain financial securities in order to focus their energies more fully on Kingdom formation. And yet Paul himself works extra hard to provide for his own needs, so that any money he helps raise can go elsewhere.

I've seen many people play the New Testament card (mentioned above) as a way to raise money for themselves to live a comfortable existence and have a lot of "free time." I don't have enough perspective to call this good or bad. It's just that I have grown increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of depending on the generosity of others for an unforeseeable period of time, especially without taking measures to begin providing for myself as much as possible.

The monastic ideal has always been to fashion a community in such a way that it can support itself financially. This, I believe, is easier to do in a rural setting than an urban one. It can also place a lot of energies on self-survival at the expense of spending time with others outside of the community.

I have an ongoing dream of starting a little business that can be an urban version of the monastic ideal. This brings up all kinds of scary realities: borrowing a lot of money to get started; having no business education; being more of a visionary than a detail manager; failing could be a financial catastrophe for my family; it could mean working harder and longer; it would put an even bigger strain on the fragile risk-taking balance we currently hold in our marriage, etc, etc.

I want to live simply, maintaining enough money for my family to live where we are called to be, to pay the bills, eat wisely, celebrate life occassionally, and to prepare for a future period of "retirement" and our children's education. On top of that, I want our money to be a blessing to those who have more desperate needs than we do.

Christ commands us not to worry about money, and to forsake it all for the sake of the cross.

There is another implicit nature in Christ for fathers to give thier greatest nurturing love and fidelity to their kin. Financial provision is certainly part - but not all - of this natural law.

Well, those are probably the biggest outer pieces. I think I'll stop here and study the frame for a while before I try to tackle the inner stuff. Please, by all means, tell me how you see the pieces fitting together...

SC are you with me?

2006-01-11T09:39:00.000-06:00

This blog is a shout-out to the important people in my life back in Columbia, South Carolina. {I am assuming that there are still about 4-5 of you that may stumble over here from time to time.}

My earliest bloggings were written almost entirely with my SC backdrop in mind. I was naively eager to publish my new discoveries, not only for my own "ownership" of change, but also to challenge a few friends and young adults to jump down the rabbit hole with me.

This inevitably caused some of my SC companions to feel uncomfortable. Thus I entered a (long) period of really lame blogging -- writing only about things that were "safe" and uncontroversial, and being hyper-sensitive to how a variety of folks may interpret my words. I began to lose readership (back then I would occassionally check my blog tracking stats), probably because there wasn't anything worth reading and people could sniff my lack of vulnerability.

Then, disgusted with my dilemma and cowardice, I purposefully jumped around on the blogosphere a few times in order to (hopefully) cause the weak-stomached people in my past to lose my scent. Thus, pulmones was born with a fresh desire to be my whole self as much as possible. Even more importantly, I wanted to find a way to speak about things such that the hardlined emphasis on "insider Christians" and "outsider nonChristians" was basically ignored.

While this has been a good exercise for me personally, it seems that the notion of bringing all of my friends together in one space hasn't really worked. No worries.

I do, however (and this was the original reason for the post), wish to offer my apologies to those few readers that can by proxy represent my South Carolina milieu. If any of you have felt completely broadsided by all the recent talk of beer, please forgive me. I haven't forgotten you; nor have I lost my faith in Jesus or the baptist way of seeing Him. And I don't mean to belittle your reality with such bold descriptions of a part of my life that has gone from "godless tabboo" to "God-redeemed possibility." Altough I had to briefly turn off my hyper-sensitivity to you in this regard, I did not do so without conscious effort.

Would you, remnant SC reader, please pass along my love and gratitude to those who may have looked the other way somewhere along the way?

Grace and Peace,

Greg

The Other Anunciation

2006-01-07T22:19:00.000-06:00

Jolie and I are pregnant with Willis #2!

NOT anticipated, but the idea is (literally) growing on us everyday.

Whenever people have asked us if we were going to have another one after Connor, I have consistenly replied "No way. Unless, of course, God has a sadistic sense of humor." Well, now we know :)

The Abbey-dwellers have been abundantly encouraging and supportive, as have our family and friends. Connor is already talking about what a great big brother he is going to be.

How blessed we are.

Best of 2005: Beer Moments

2006-01-01T00:10:00.000-06:00

[This will also appear at Brewmonks, a new site that my friend Justin and I have launched as an outlet for celebrating God's goodness as experienced through beer appreciation, etc.]

2005 was the year of beer for me. In February I began homebrewing at the Abbey with my friend Callaway. This only heightened my curiosity about the great beers of the world, and resulted in a yet another sphere of liquid refreshment that I have become highly snobbish about (coffee and tea happened earlier).

I'm currently drinking the Unibroue Edition 2005 as the drink of choice to carry me over into 2006. This may be one of the best beers I've had last year. But I am thinking now about the best beer experiences I had in 2005. Here's what readily comes to mind:

10. Guinness at Fado's on St. Aidan's Day. Fado's has the best Guinness in town, and the Abbey-dwellers and a few extra friends had a couple of rounds whilst I took the honor of telling Aidan's story.

9. Old Stock Ale from North Coast Brewing Co. at Callaway's birthday party. Callaway had aged this strong ale for an extra year and shared it with me and his girlfriend Leslie, saying "you two have had the greatest impact on my life this past year." An honor not to be held lightly.

8. Smithwick's on St. Patrick's Day. This is a pretty good red ale, but the main thing was telling my friend Tim why Patrick meant so much to me. The next day he told me, "you know, after what you told me last night, St. Patrick's Day is one of my favorite holidays."

7. Kolsch homebrew. This was our first homebrew and man did it taste fine! I particularly remember having a few co-workers over and trying it out together. I haven't felt that much pride since Connor's birth. Needless to say, we were hooked on homebrewing.

6. Several special selections chosen for a reclusive night on St. Martin's Day. You can real all about it here.

5. Our first homebrewed Abbey single. Callaway and I had just begun trying all-grain recipes and this came out brilliantly! I felt like an authentic monk. The best beer we've made so far.

4. The Czar by Avery Brewing with Sean on the deck of the Abbey in March. We were both new to heavy beers, and we probably felt the effects more than we were counting on. But more importantly, we had a great conversation -- the kind that deep friendships are built on.

3. Chimay Blue at the Draught Haus. Chris surprised me with the news that he and Jenny were pregnant. I rushed to the bar and bought a bottle of Chimay's finest and we celebrated the news with gusto. Greer showed up late and announced that it was his birthday -- so we had to but another special brew for the toast...

2. Chimay White at the Dog and Duck. It was Maundy Thursday, so I bought a round of classy brew for my co-worker friends (and Sean) and told them that this was my way of washing their feet. Possibly the most vulnerable act I made all year (had to be there).

1. Pubcrawling in Portland with my beloved wife, Jolie. Portland has more breweries per capita than any other city in the world, and we didn't even scrape the surface on our vacation. Still, it was great to share fantastic northwestern beer with my best friend. Highlights were the Rogue Public House and the tour of Widmer Brewery.

Best of 2005: Books

2005-12-30T21:55:00.000-06:00

8. Ethics -- I remembered Brian McLaren recommending this book to me while on a little hike in Glorietta, NM a few years ago when I saw in at Half Price Books. Technical enough, but perfectly readable, a gutsy effort to revitalize the "baptist" vision of God's Story.
7. A History of the World in Six Glasses -- As a beverage fanatic, this was a most rewarding pop history of the role liquids have played in shaping cultures. "There is no civilizaion without fermentation" turned out to be quite literally true. Fun reading.
6. New Seeds of Contemplation -- An outstanding representation of Merton's best comtemplative writing. Nearly every page could have ended up with highlights. Lectio Divina material.
5. The Cartoon History of the Univsere III - Borrowed this one from my buddy, Callaway. Not only is this funny and irreverent, but it is also well-researched and informative. A great way to take in the major events of history (including the bits that get passed over in traditional "western" histories!). Going back for vol. 1 soon.
4. Radical Brewing -- The second most-referenced book in my life this past year. This book has great recipe ideas, but more importantly it is foaming with respect and homage to a beverage that has been respected and honored by a host of cultures for thousands of years. Contagious enthusiasm.
3. Citizenship Papers -- Digested cmar's copy in quick-time, then loaned it to said friend Callaway, only to have it disapper into thin air. Brilliant, profound and unapologetic. I still reach for the courage to put my life on a trajectory in line with the one described here by Berry.
2. The Life You Save May Be Your Own -- I resonnated with this description of the lives of Thomas Merton, Flannery O'Connor, Walker Percy and Dorothy Day on too many levels to list here. One of those reads that will keep speaking into my life, I believe, for many years.
1. The idiot -- Thanks to the guys who spurred me onward to read this book in pseudo-community, I was able to complete a most-challenging novel and savor it's beautiful deformities. Masterful and haunting.

Christmas at the Movies

2005-12-28T08:47:00.000-06:00

Jolie and I went to see Munich on Christmas night (after all, it was Hanukkah, too). Spielberg did a nice job making an entertaining movie that also had a pronounced-yet-subversive anti-violence position. I was most interested in a small scene where one of the Jewish “assassins” loses his stomach for all the violence, saying that true Judaism doesn’t try to retaliate every time they are attacked and that “righteousness was everything.” He felt that if he lost his righteousness, he would lose his own soul.

This is curious to me, as I don’t associate Jewish righteousness with peacefulness, but rather with the Old Testament cries of vengeance and justice, and the current expression of Israeli nationalism. It was refreshing to hear this character (reflecting Spielberg’s own position, I would gather) casting a core value of Judaism in a manner much more in line with Jesus’ vision for the Jews. It certainly struck me as a very New Testament-friendly version of righteousness, and it also gave me pause to realize that most of the world wouldn’t associate Christian righteousness with Jesus’ Way either!

Having been an avid learner of the concept of righteousness in recent years, I am re-challenged to live up to its biblical ideology, especially in the light of Jesus. Righteousness is an active living for others, an incarnate gesture of validation for the dignity of others, and a collaborative demonstration, with God, of His true nature as a lover of the hurting and oppressed. Shouldn’t I, as a follower of Jesus, feel the same connection between righteousness and my soul’s salvation?

Advent Journal Entry: The Anunciation?

2005-12-19T06:31:00.000-06:00

December 2, 2005

To await the birth of a promise you never asked for,
Because you didn’t want one,
Because you were too young,
Because it would be an inconvenience,
Because you never dared to heed
Those silent, shapeless urges
Grasping for utterance.

To suddenly sense a new life within,
Resting in the day time,
Kicking in the dark,
Redistributing your synaptic gaps,
Re-firing your neurons,
Canceling your own hopes,
Negating intentions from family and betrothed.

To brace for the worst possible outcome,
That you would somehow ruin it,
That you were too ordinary,
That you were only a dreamer,
That the dreary world would engulf you
In despair and unsorted fragments
And noble nothings.

To behold an angel,
Hearing an unthinkable proclamation,
Feeling an impossible verification,
Knowing an unnamable redemption,
Breathing an unmistakable lightness of being,
And a certainty that now reveals
The secret of your glowing disposition.

To await the birth of a promise you never cared for,
Because you were insecure,
Because you were immature,
Because your sight was too small,
Because you had only begun to understand
That a promise such as this
Has cares enough for the whole world.

Rainforest Alliance

2005-12-14T11:18:00.000-06:00

At Central Market we are currently featuring a suberb estate coffee, the Nicaraguan La Bastilla. Unlike most Nicaraguan coffess I've experienced, this is world class brew. It has a medium to heavy mouthfeel (body) and a great balance of darker and brighter notes, with a hint of the nuttiness typically associated with Central America.

What's the secret? Among other things, it is a Rainforest Alliance certified coffee. If Fair Trade is your thing, then please do yourself a favor and learn up on this organization.

Fair Trade takes a percentage (both from farmers and merchants) for themselves. Rainforest Alliance makes no money from it's certification.

Fair Trade uses only co-op products, which can help the poorest farmer in the short term, but will never result in consistent yields. The Rainforest certifies specific estates, thus promoting long-term sustainability. The Rainforest is also far more stringent about environmental and social factors, as well as the actual quality of the coffee beans produced.

Granted, the Rainforest certification is much rarer and more difficult to find (this is one of it's strengths, not handing putting it's name on everything) and you will most likely pay a little bit more. Still, if you want to maximize the overall global benefit of your consumption dollar, a few extra pennies per cup can make a difference. Check for Rainforest coffee in your area...

Another Advent Journal Entry

2005-12-14T11:11:00.000-06:00

December 10, 2005

Thomas Merton died, during Advent, 37 years ago.

This seems quite fitting; not the manner and timing of his death, but that he was in no way “a man for all seasons,” but entirely an Advent advocate. His life was a profound and tragic awaiting: profound in his uncompromising insistence upon living in contemplative solitude, waiting upon God and describing the experience in a gripping and contagious way; tragic in that he, like Simeon, died as soon as he had found what he was waiting for.

As much as I have grown to esteem this modern monastic apologist, I must also increasingly wrestle with what seem to be under-developed realities (or perhaps his over-development of certain themes in his writing only makes it appear so). I look to his own self-assessment as a clue. He is acutely aware of his inability, through his personality quirks and the circumstances of being under a Trappist rule, to engage the world directly with more than just observations from a hermitage. He wishes he had the permission and efficacy to live his faith on the streets, like Dorothy Day. He reaches out too desperately for comradeship through correspondence letters that often read like fan mail. Ultimately, in spite of his own resolve, he plunges irresponsibly into the arms of a forbidden woman.

Then, rather abruptly, his abbot dies and the replacement encourages him to travel. The labor has ended and the giddiness of childbirth has begun. He eventually finds his way to Asia, and journals many epiphanies – of the beauty of the landscape, of the simplicity of the monks, but especially of his self-discovery, that he can begin a new life of activity in the world. He knows himself and his faith with such ownership that he is finally capable of intersecting with the great spiritual leaders of other religions and to be seen as a peer, a spiritual brother. He is ready to act as a mediator across eastern and western cultures, skillfully maintaining his own identity in Christ and simultaneously affirming all that is good and true in the wisdom of other beliefs. After 54 years, the waiting is over. And then, more like Kyle Lake than Kaiser Soze, he was gone.

Christ, I want to wait like Thomas Merton. But I want to live like Dorothy Day. Advent, it seems, should be just as active as it is passive. Your Kingdom come; Your will be done.

Now, if possible.

Postmodern Pilgrim?

2005-12-08T15:47:00.000-06:00

The winter blast annihilated our little garden. It probably undid all of my rye-seeding efforts last weekend, too. But I welcome this minute arctic reminder with all of my heart. The cold has it's own beauty, and I am prepared to embrace it. So, I tell myself, now is the time to finish that book you were enjoying in the summer, The Life You Save May Be Your Own, by Paul Elie. Perhaps I can finish it over the weekend, just in time to commemorate Thomas Merton on Sunday night. The book, you see, traces the artistic lives of Merton, Dorothy Day, Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy.

[prepare for a long blog]

Merton (as quoted in the book) speaks of pilgrimage:

Man instinctively regards himself as a wanderer and wayfarer, and it is second nature for him to go on pilgrimage in search of a privileged and holy place, a center and source of indefectible life. This hope is built into his psychology, and whether he acts it out or simply dreams it, his heart seeks to return to a mythical source, a place of 'origin,' the 'home' where the ancestors came from, the mountain where the ancient fathers were in direct communication, the place of the creation of the world, paradise itself, with its sacred tree of life.

It is Walker Percy, however, that truly grabs me today. Continuing with the pilgrimage theme:

He (Percy) tells the story of an American couple on their honeymoon in Mexico. Having come so far, they find themselves in a tourist town among "a dozen other couples from the Midwest." Dismayed, they leave the town, get lost, and stumble on some natives performing a "corn dance" in a remote village. "The couple know at once that this is 'it'. They are entranced. They spend several days in the village, observing the Indians and being themselves observed with friendly curiosity." But have they really escaped the falsity of modern life? By no means. They announce the ritual's authenticity to each other, as if to verify it. They find they are eager for it to end -- to end before its authenticity is somehow spoiled. Back home in America, they tell an ethnologit friend about it, eager to have an expert say that it is authentic; the next year, they return, bringing the ethnologist with them. He watches; they watch him. "'Didn't we tell you?' they say at last. What they want from him is not ethnological explanations; all they want is his approval."

Percy's point -- in the language of pilgrimage -- is that the modern predicament makes pilgrimage impossible. In the modern world (now generally called postmodern), all experience is always secondhand, planned and described for one's consumption by others in advance. Even the rare authentically direct experience is spoiled by modern self-consciousness. The modern person is doomed to an imitation of life; the self cannot escape itself and know the world or the Other.

and at his acceptance speach in 1961 for National Book Award for fiction:

"There is time to say only this: that the pathology in this case has to do with the loss of individuality and the loss of identity at the very time when words like the 'dignity of the individual' and 'self-realization' are being heard more frequently than ever."

In five minutes, Percy set out the themes he had explored over a dozen years: the sickness of modern Western society, the loss of the sense of self, the role of the writer as diagnostician. Concluding, he made his main point indirectly, as an offhand sequitir -- the point that "in short, the book [The Moviegoer] attempts a modest restatement of the Judeo-Christian notion that man is more than an organism in an environment, more than an integrated personality, more than a mature and creative individual, as the phrase goes. He is a wayfarer and a pilgrim."

Advent Journal Entry

2005-12-06T10:38:00.000-06:00

The Abbey-dwellers are keeping an Advent journal as a way of trying to embody the right inner disciplines of the season. Each Sunday we share an entry with each other as a portion of our worship together. This one, from last week, seems bloggable...

This resting, this inner discipline of passivity and waiting, seems to steer clear of me the more I seek after it. I look, too, at our own house, and I see even more restlessness and activity than before advent. Can no one be still before the Lord? Can no modern soul pursue Christ through simplicity anymore? When it comes right down to making daily choices, do we really value interior disciplines or are we simply playing charades with all this monk and mission language?

There is a Carmelite vow on Day 2 of the Celtic meditations:

Let each stay in or near their own cell
Meditating, day and night
On the law of the Lord,
And vigilant in prayer,
Unless otherwise employed by the Holy Spirit.

What at first sounds to me like ultra-asceticism and hardened legalism is now beginning to sound more like the proper kind of default mindset for any contemplative follower of Christ. Not that I must spend all of my time in my bedroom reading Scripture and praying and turning into an antisocial recluse. More that I should make certain that my activities have been ordained by God and empowered by His Spirit, making the most of my time, for the “days are evil.” I suppose this goes back to my first post about lacking precision. There is a correlation, at least for monastics, between such precision and finding one’s home in a state of quiet meditation.

I am becoming aware that more activity does not necessarily mean more missional opportunity. In fact, the ability to bring Jesus to bear in any missional enterprise is directly related to my own preparation, speaking to God, hearing from God, resting in God, crying out for the God of salvation Who will speak, but has yet to reveal in a particular area.

Prepare Your way within me, Lord.

St. Nick

2005-12-06T10:33:00.000-06:00

There is a real Santa Claus.

Tribute-ary: Steve Baker

2005-11-30T22:23:00.000-06:00

St. Andrew's Day. It's a pretty disjointed narrative that connects the Jewish fisherman that became Jesus' first called disciple to a day of national Scottish pride. It's a little unnatural to toast a man who was crucified in Greece in the shape of an X with a single malt whisky that wasn't even part of Scottish lore until the last 300 years.

But I had a gratifying day at work, setting up a little demo at the tea bar of Scottish shortbread and Assam breakfast tea. I even took some plaid ribbon from the floral department and make a St. Andrew's cross on the counter. There was one elderly man with a white beard and an argyle cap. Otherwise, my "happy St. Andrew's day!" greetings from the tea demo were met with complete bewilderment. It's particularly fun to celebrate a holiday that no one else seems to notice. And it's always rewarding to tell a story that is rooted in Christ's story.

I was even more gratified to hear my friend Steve Baker's voice (mail) when I called to wish him well on my lunch break. Steve is the most Scottish man I know. And his fingerprints are easily tracable on my soul.

The Rumble Bass. A Rickenbacher riff-off, with the word "Bad Ass" printed on the headstock.

The infinite supply of Polo mints.

The inconsistent Jaguar.

The daily prayers at 4:00 a.m. to claim wholeness for a son with cystic fibrosis.

The greying steel wool haircut.

The trips to South Carolina.

The tears of pain for a family nightmare, and the tears of joy for restoration.

The utter disregard for material comforts.

The daring to find meaning in Old Testament prophecies.

The unwavering trust in the Almighty.

"Did you know the word 'whisky' is gaelic for 'living water'? But it's not; it's only a counterfeit."

"Your grass - it waters itself. And your streets - they sparkle."

"Satan, you have been defeated, you bloody, bleedin' bastard!"

May the bones of St. Andrew continue to raze noble highlanders at least half as faithful as Steve the Baker.

And may Jesus fill you, my friend, and your kin, with an unnending spirit of love and good deeds -- until it comes out your arse!

When is the Cornucopia Too Full?

2005-11-23T12:21:00.000-06:00

I've been working some pretty taxing hours at Central Market this week. Our store, catering to gourmet and specialty foods and such, makes about 40% of it's total annual revenue in November and December. For the past 6 weeks our bulk department has been stocking up on holiday essentials -- particularly walnuts, pecans, cranberries and cinnamon. Though it seems impossible to me, we've actually run out of some of these items this week! Even worse, the H.E.B. warehouse ran out of containers and lids! If you want to get a sense of what hell could be like, stand in front of hundreds of crotchety patrons for hours and say repeatedly "no ma'am, we don't have any lids" or "I'm afraid we're all out of pecan pieces, sir."

The notion that these items may not have an infinite supply causes most consumers to be utterly dumbstruck. "HOW can you be out of pecans right before Thanksgiving?"

My favorite retort so far was "well, somebody really f***ed up majorly, didn't they?"

The answer I wanted to give was "you mean our store for running out or you for waiting until the last minute to do your holiday shopping, you gratitude-lacker." Instead, I walked away with a forced grin on my face.

I don't have a hugely drawn out point here. Only that perhaps our culture at large has no conscious need of God partly because it has no conscious concept of finitude. When there is no allowance for the limits of consumption, there can be no appreciation for the One who provides manna and promises "My grace is sufficient for you."

Well, I'm off to work the extended holiday hours closing shift one more time. Oh Lord, grant me a spirit of eucharist and transfer it to every disappointed customer I gaze upon today.

Tribute-ary: Chris

2005-11-13T22:38:00.000-06:00

A faithful traveling companion for twelve solar revolutions,
Very seldom can a friend claim.
An honest heart and a rebellious spirit,
Blends the elusive elixir of fugitives, prophets and world changers.
Most cynics hover over their reclusive sidelines,
Afraid of being proven void.
But a man who can ask “why are things this way?”
And also prod himself into the arena of toil
Is a rarer creature still.

Wit has a way of witling people into white and black,
Sarcasm can send sectarian signals.
But when a soul has the courage to include
Himself in his sidewinding word-smithing
With an unsuspecting humility and mischief,
He can only be Chris Margrave -- or Huckleberry Finn.

Curiosity can kill catlike reflexes,
Or it can form musicians, inkslingers
Pipe smokers, inventors, husbands, and fathers.

When a teenager wants to learn the blues
You crack a smile and get him in tune.
When a young man wants to begin again,
You laugh and help him unpack.
When a son becomes the mortar that repairs a family,
You gasp and start taking notes.
When a student becomes your teacher,
You stand agape and stand up straighter.
When a friend becomes kin,
You embrace him and tell him,
“I’m proud of you. Do your thing, brother.
Maybe I’ll catch up when you least expect it.”

Still Identifying With Martin of Tours

2005-11-13T21:47:00.000-06:00

This week has been comprised of various people leaving me for one reason or another. The two best friends I have made in the bulk department at Central Market quit on Sunday. Tim got a job that suits him better -- working for Apple. Callaway lef today for Vermont to continue his training to be a certified Craft Brewer.

Then there's the Abbey. Steven boldly packed up his caravan (actually an import) from Bakersfield and moved into the Abbey 3-4 weeks ago. As much as we have grown to appreciate him, it was mutually agreed that the "fit was not right" for him to stay on long term. So, in whiplash motion, he found a couple of like-minded guys to live with and yesterday he moved out.

The biggest blow, though, was the loss of Chris (also last Sunday). We knew from the beginning that he was only on loan to us from his wife Jenny until they could get situated for her to join him here in Austin. And since he's found a job and they've got another place to stay, the family is back together. But our little clan has been deeply affected by his lack of presence.

Not seeing familiar faces in familiar places is painful. It sucks to let people move on. This is one of the prices of love, I suppose.

It occurs to me, however, that I asked Martin of Tours to pray for me a couple of days ago, specifically "that I would send others into unknown wonders." Perhaps, without realizing it until now, there is some of that going on here. Each of these people have gone into these different places with my blessing and encouragement (as meager as it may have been). I'll be telling you more about them in the coming few days, as I want to give tribute to some of the people in my life as a way of practicing Thanksgiving.

For now, Tim, Callway, Steven and Chris,
May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you
Wherever He may send you.
May He guide you through the wilderness,
Protect you through the storm.
May He bring you home rejoicing at the wonders He has shown you.
May He bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.

4 Brown Beers for Saint Martin

2005-11-12T00:14:00.000-06:00

"Do you have any wines from Tours, France?" I asked my co-worker friend, Randy. He wasn't sure where Tours was, so I showed him a map of France with "Tours" in big letters. He doesn't know of anything from around there. We ask the other wine stewards and even the wine distributors on hand. Nobody knows.

"Why are you so interested in that particular region?" Randy finally asks me. So I tell him a little story about Saint Martin of Tours, one of the men of Christian antiquity that I admire most.

When I get home from work I do a little more research, only to find out that Tours is the largest city of a major wine-making region! I decided to get myself a wine from that (Loire) region to celebrate the man tonight.

When I get to the big wine store, I discover that they only have super-pricey wines from this region. Bummer. So I instead purchased 4 brown beers that I have been curious about for a while.

6:15 p.m.-- Got home with a double cheeseburger and opened up the new organic brew from North Coast Brewery, the Cru d'Or. I wasn't expecting it to be a dark tripel, but it was pretty nice. It's amazing how you can tell a beer is Belgian immediately when you open the bottle - there's something totally unique about the smell of Belgian yeast strains. No other other region in the world smells like it. This tiny little country produces the most interesting and complex yeast strains and actually ships them all over the world to make local brewmasters giddy. I wonder if this isn't something like what God had in mind when He chose Israel to be a blessing (leaven) among the nations...

10:05 p.m -- Finished reading the first half of The Diving Milieu, by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. It is too wonderful outside, so I grab my Nicaraguan cigar and pour Old Peculier into my Abbey goblet and set up the hammock. I was reading a book that said this English Ale went well with smoked meats, so I figured it would go well with smoke, too. The sweet malty flavor does indeed, but there isn't enough body to match the spicey smokiness. Still, this beer is what Newcastle should be. Looking up at the trees blowing about in the wind, hearing the cars soar by on the other side of the wall, being enfolded in the unspeakable goodness of God - this is what my worn soul has been pleading for.

10:50 p.m. -- Sean joins me outside on the porch and we split the Hibernation Ale together. Funny, all I wanted to do tonight was hibernate, to hide away alone in my cell (actually, it's the "sun room") and take in the spirit of the great hermit-bishop-missionary-monk, Martin. But, also like Martin, there were people coming to talk with me. Strangely, they weren't such an interruption. Sean and I hibernated together, words and thoughts -- but mostly silence and presence. The clouds were rolling quickly over the bright lantern-moon. Sean is going to be a great husband and missionary-monk in his own right, and this is one of the most well-balanced heavy beers I've ever had.

12:15 p.m. -- After taking a shower to get rid of the cigar forcefield, I approach the computer with my final sampling, the highly coveted St. Bernardus Abbot 12 -- a true Trappist wonder. I'm up way too late, but the time feels holy. I've found myself in Christ in this little make-shift cell. The Tallis Scholars harken the Middle Ages. The juniper incense swirls thick European romance. The beer is remarkably smooth and pleasing. I want each taste to bring with it the character and flavor of the abbotts of old. I want to be like Saint Martin of Tours.

Some Saints on All Saints Days

2005-11-01T21:27:00.000-06:00

I'm currently listening to Mozart's Requiem and trying to keep my tears on the inside.

Just a few moments ago we recited the Great Litanny together here at the Abbey, asking a rather lengthy list of notable Christian characters to pray for us. As we got into a cadence, I became more accutely aware of the "cloud of witnesses" than ever before. I also felt deeply impressed to address a few "saints" that have touched a more personal and intimate part of my soul:

Enoch, pray for me; that I would walk with God.
Jeremiah, pray for me; that I would remain faithful to Christ regardless of any measures of success.
Joseph, pray for me; that I would love my son as you did yours - with awe and wonder and acquiesence that God is the true Father.
Levi, pray for me; that I would drop all and follow.
Luke, pray for me; that I would tell the stories of the foreigners and outcasts.
Paul, pray for me; that I would find the language to cross cultures with the gospel.

Martin of Tours, pray for me; that I would send others into unknown wonders.
Brendan, pray for me; that I would embrace my journey with humility and urgency.
Benedict, pray for me; that I would become an Abbott-daddy to my spiritual family.
Charles De Foucauld, pray for me; that I would deny myself for Christ's sake.
Bonhoeffer, pray for me; that I would embody a monasticism for this time.

Johnny Cash, pray for me; that I would be an oak.

Brother I never knew, pray for me; that I would recognize you on That day.

Kyle Lake, pray for me; that I would be at peace with the God who infuriates me.

Papa, your heart still beats, but your true self is far closer to heaven than earth. Please pray for me, that I would live in your legacy of love and faith.

Too Many Things Not to Mention, Not to Mention Too Many Things

2005-10-30T15:07:00.000-06:00

Our family is being stretched to learn more of the Way of Love and about the inner discretion needed to initiate the rite of adopting others in.

Connor cannot amuse himself endlessly without the undivided attention of adults.

Kiwi kids can.

The Orkney Islands monastic expression also seeks to produce a malty fermented beverage as a way of providing for itself and it's locality.

I hate political scandals - regardless of which slant they take.

Still, I am deeply concerned that there may be some truth to the notion that the "Leader of the Free World" knowingly misled a nation (nay, a coalition) to war.

Even more concerning is that this same said Leader relishes the opportunity to associate himself with Jesus publicly.

"Well, damn this American Empire..." was both familiar and provocative as it was preached from the heart and art of a dear new friend.

Ryan and Holly Sharp were a breath of real air.

A soul friend called, but no words were spoken; only the sounds of an Irish heartbeat confessing from American Airlines Center: "I still haven't found what I'm looking for."

An interesting cast of characters convened at the Abbey, not the least of which is Keith, a fistful of energy and despair, vacillating between belief in God's goodness and disbelief that he could be the benefactor of such love after living a life of heroine abuse that cost him 3 friends' lives.

I just clicked "refresh" and discovered that Kyle Lake is in fact dead. How does God allow a faithful shepherd to be electrocuted and killed while performing the sacrament of baptism?

Bono. Ryan. I'm with you.

Emergent Gathering 2005

2005-10-25T13:59:00.000-05:00

As a response to the first 2 Emergent Gatherings (2003, 2004) I felt compelled to write a rather lengthy memoir-blog that would contains hints of the kinds of impressions that were left on me from the experience. Well, now it's been a couple of weeks since returning from the 3rd such pilgrimage and I am still uncertain about what would be good to articulate.

This was the first time my wife got to go with me, and I was delighted to have her free to taste this little glitch of communal kindness for herself. There, too, was one of our housemates, Heather, and one of my deepest soul friends from my previous life as a student minister in South Carolina, Rod.

The number of people in attendance jumped from 60ish last year to 165ish this year. Although this definitely changed the dynamics of the breakout discussions and the availiblity of certain charismatic figures, the overall flavor remained remarkably consistent.

For all the things being said in so many "churchy" circles about the good, bad and ugly associated with the words "emerging" and "emergent," please allow me to simply offer this as my concluding remark about each of the Gatherings thus far:

How many large-scale Christian events have you attended in your life that were utterly characterized by the things each attendant had in common with one another, namely identification with the transforming work of Jesus, rather than the boringly obvious differences? In retrospect, it seems that most of the structured Christianity I have ever witnessed has been defined by what it is NOT (liberal, moderate, Catholic, new age, abstaining from certain social morays, etc.) rather than by what it IS.

Shema! Herein resides a slowly-developing group of people from across all kinds of denominational, theological, political and geographical lines that have embraced one another in true Christian charity, partly because we need each other, and partly because we need to believe that Christian charity still exists. None of us have things figured out and all of us experience increasing isolation from the very monoliths that may have first nurtured us in faith. We have no idea what to do next. We do, however, know precisely Who to be as we navigate through the great continental drift of our age. And we will urgently and faithfully love each other towards this Being who reigns above the chaos and concurrently abides within it with us. Shalom.

Astro-logy

2005-10-20T14:09:00.000-05:00

So I got home from work just in time to watch nothing happen for the final two innings last night, resulting in the very first pennant for the Houston Astros. I wish I could say I was elated, but I felt more twilight zone uneasiness than any thing else.

I can still remember the very first professional sporting event I ever attended. 1976. The Pittsburg Pirates at the Houston Astrodome (which was still very much the "8th wonder of the world" at that time). Although the 'Stros were easily defeated, Enos Cabell went deep somewhere around the 5th inning, and I still have boyish amazement recalling the accompanying fireworks and excitement of the digital scoreboard flashing "HOME RUN" and a little sequence of a bull snorting, etc. Did I mention it was bat night? I still have that wonderful yellow bat.

I also have fond memories of listening to the Astros vs. Mets Championship series on earphones during the last 2 hours of school back in 1986. I would race into the living room and turn on the game as fast as I could get my body home. For a week, Mike Scott was something close to a god.

Yeah, the Houston Astros were my team growing up. Which is why, I suppose, the sight of Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell in those disappointingly conventional uniforms celebrating their entrance into the World Series seemed so un-real. The team has the same name and city, but it's NOT the same team I loved as a kid.

This is not the team with the jerseys that looked like the Atari game "Breakout." This is not Cesar Cedeno, Jose Cruz and Terry Puhl. This is not J.R. Richard on the mound. And it is certainly not the team that Nolan Ryan made his name striking out and no-hitting the National League for. This isn't even the team that Craig Biggio caught for.

And to add insult to injury there's the Houston FANS. It's very difficult to root for a team and root against their fans all at the same time. The franchise deserves this honor, but the collective urban sprawl known as "Greater Houston" does not. This gas-guzzling, ozone-ruining, toll road-advocating, strip mall-idolizing, Enron-incubating, humidity-sponging tract of asphalt is well, not my favorite place on earth.

So do I pull for the 'Stros versus the Sox? Sure. But only for the sake of the good old days and the hope that Houston fans will actually learn love the game.

Got the itch again

2005-10-18T13:33:00.000-05:00

Lot's of irony to the existence of this blog. But first, let me welcome you to the latest in a growing line of web-experiments that seem useful to me for a time, and then eventually get "baleted" as their purposes come to a halt. 'Twill be interesting to see how long the shelf life is on this'un here...

Irony #1 -- I set this blog up back in May, 2004 but never actually created a post until just this moment. I had dreams of a place that wasn't confined to "churchy" talk and "churchy" networks. In fact, the original plan was to try to host a blog without ever telling any of my "churchy" friends about it at all -- to keep it a secret in order to avoid any smackerings of offensiveness or confusion.

Irony #2 -- I semi-retired from blogger well over a year ago because there weren't enough intuitive functions. Well, about 3 weeks after launching a site over at typepad, behold!, blogger added the features I was wanting. Now that I have ended my stint with the nifty typepad folks, I'm back on the ol' blogger with a vengeance. [Believe me, I tried to find an "indie" blogging outfit that could meet my needs, but I couldn't find anything that could touch the google empire.]

Irony #3 -- I stopped blogging about 3 months ago. One of the ways in which I convinced myself that this was right was by channeling the memory of one the peerlings I admire most, Mark Scandrette. On the two previous occassions I had to hear and visit with Mark, he embodied for me the "pure local artist" -- a guy who seemed giddy NOT to conform to the seemingly self-evident fact that anyone who's anyone has a blog. As I finally mustered up the strength to hit the "are you sure you want to delete your blog?" button, I'm sure Mark's smiling psuedo-Bono-shades-laden face was only a synapse away from retrieval. Well, here's the punch line: last week I saw Mark again, and this time he was even giddier than before -- about the power and practicality of the blog and how effective his new blog has been at rallying people together for the most noble of reasons (like meeting to figure out how to sell 1/2 of your possessions and give the proceeds to the poor).

Irony #4 -- For the first time in my life (I'm 35, btw) I am going to attempt integrity, come hell or highwater. What I mean is that this blog will deliberately NOT cater to the greatest temptation to dualism in my life -- the careful apologetic back into the evangelistic church expression from whence I was commissioned to depart and the deeply engaged affirmation of life and love among the not-so-churchy friends that I currently move and breath with. My prayer is that anyone from my past who could never possibly grasp what is going to happen on this space will not have taken the time or energy to keep up with my back-to-back-to-back web changes. But my greater hope is that my quest for wholeness will cause any persons religated to either side of this duality to be pushed towards one another in genuine love and generosity.

To be the same person in three different places is to acheive holiness.