Ring Lake Ranch

I mentioned Ring Lake Ranch in my last post in association with Earth Day because it was at Ring Lake Ranch that I met Belden Lane, who is one of the best writers and storytellers I know. His topic of research and writing for the past decade or so has been the geographic context of spirituality. This same topic has caught my imagination ever since I was a teenager, when I first remember thinking, "I wonder if our scriptures would be the same if they had originated in a temperate/forest kind of climate (like mine in Arkansas) rather than a desert/Mediteranean kind of climate?" How much of Judeo-Christian religion is due to the landscape that birthed it? Belden Lane helped delve into these kinds of questions and much more at a seminar hosted by Ring Lake Ranch, and the setting (picutred above) and the experience were emblazoned on the "desktop" of my soul from then on.
While I was there, I did quite a bit of hiking and horseback riding and thinking and writing. The context really spurs on the creative spirit. One day when I was hiking around some hills that had been pushed up by a glacier moving down the valley millions of years ago, I felt a kind of "tap" on my shoulder, and when I turned around, the barren tree had sprung to life with the foliage of a bright white cloud. The story of St. Francis standing in front of a tree in the wintertime and inviting it to "Tell me of God!" came to mind. In the story, the tree springs to life with foliage and fruit. In my own experience, the harmonization of the tree and the sky combined to bring about another miracle of revelation, and I had the camera around my neck, so I captured the moment on film. To me, the revelation is that the world works in concert in ways that we infrequently recognize or pay attention to, but sometimes the moment just slaps us in the face like a Zen master. That's why I chose that photo to use as the header for my blog. I am most interested in the moments in which I/we sometimes catch a glimpse of the harmony that I believe is Divine. This happens for me when I am attentive to the outdoors, but it also happens when I am attentive to the relationships that fill my life and the creativity of the human spirit.
Perhaps God does mold our minds and cultures with context and environment to receive particular glimpses of the Truth. Or, perhaps our location in life bleeds into our creation of characteristics that we ascribe to God. Either way, as Elizabeth Barrett Browning said

Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,

And daub their natural faces unaware.

Oh, by the way, I noticed Belden Lane is coming back to Ring Lake Ranch this Aug. 2-8. That's right over my birthday. Well, how about that! You should really consider going. Oh yeah, and if you ever read the journal Worldviews: Global Religions, Culture, and Ecology , keep an eye out for the book review I wrote for the paperback edition of Belden Lane's book The Solace of Fierce Landscapes. I just got a request to send in a consent to publish, so I suppose it's coming out soon.

Faith and Earth Day

Over the years, the intersection of environmentalism and religious faith has been a major source of inspiration to me.  When I received an Fund for Theological Education grant before starting seminary, I designed an immersion in eco-stewardship.  That took place in 2002, and so in many ways I feel like I was able to witness the rise of the evangelical voice in that area.  I remember meeting Richard Cizik, now deposed VP of the National Association of Evangelicals, and thinking--"wow--he's cool, I hope he has an impact!"  He did, and his success caused him to become a divisive focal point in evangelicalism's renegotiation of the essential concerns for that group in the 2000's.  When I first started observing and participating in "eco-stewardship," I recall hoping that the evangelicals would begin articulating environmental justice rooted in the scriptural witness.  It seemed like such a powerful potential movement.  At several of events and conferences I attended, I met Lyndsay Moseley,  who was an evangelical with a keen interest and commitment to creation stewardship.  I noticed recently that she edited a book published by Sierra Club.  So, if you need some good sources for voices of faith on environmentalism, give it a look.  

Earth Day always reminds me of my time at Ring Lake Ranch in Wyoming as well (where I took the photo of the cloud-tree right up there).  I'll post on that next time--I have a girl crying.  

Thank you God, for stealing my precious gold ring from the pirates and giving it to me.

That was my prayer, five minutes ago, at the behest of Wesley.  

We were washing his hands, and I explained that you always had to wash your hands after going to the bathroom.  It is one of the rules.  

"And Dod made the rules?"

"Yes, God made the rules about cleanliness so that we wouldn't get sick."  

That seemed to be an acceptable reason to wash hands.

Then,

"Why can your ring get wet?"  

"Becasue it's made of gold, and gold doesn't rust." 

"Oh, that's why pirates like gold."  

"They sure do, don't they? It's a precious metel that everyone wants."

"Dod must have stoled your ring from the pirates and given it to you.  That's nice.  You should pray to Dod and tell Dod thank you."  

all hell

sitting here, blogging 1-handed

listening to the 40s on 4 (sirius radio) through the baby monitor while Julianna gnaws on my thumb.   

Somehow, the all hell I thought was about to break loose is staying in the can.  Perhaps God is tapping my soul like I tap the top of a Coke can after it has been shook up.   

Garrison Keillor had some good insights on Writer's Almanac.

I love the "Lies My Mother Told Me" poem by Elizabeth Thomas, especially the part about God "ratting you out" and "exaggerating."  That's good.  I sometimes wonder if life after death is completely and utterly open.  Whatever we hide or bear is common knowledge not only to God, but among the new fellowship.  We are open books.   Maybe that's how we find ourselves in heaven or hell.  If so, no doubt there's grace to see things in perspective.  

I also liked the quotes from the late birthday boy Herb Caen.  

 "Isn't it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there?"

As an Angeleno who loved San Francisco too, I can see the humor there--NoCal people just love looking down their noses at SoCal.  I think it's equivalent to Arkansans hating Texans--it is something that gives us Arkies a bit of passion, but the Texans don't really care.  It isn't reciprocated.   They love themselves too much to be distracted by any cultural vehemence.  My good friend and girlfriend from my first year in college was a Dallasite who was genuinely surprised that I hadn't taken "Texas history" in high school (in SW Arkansas).  It is that kind of oblivious state pride that makes Texans humorous and charming.  

All hell breaking loose had to do with dealing with this wreck and the purchase of a new car,lots of travel, helping a family experiencing grief and strife over the loss of a loved one and funeral planning, getting the Vundo computer virus, annoying changes to a book title I've contributed a chapter to, preparing for Holy Week and other commitments...It just seems like things kept piling up.  

Last night Wesley knelt by his bed and prayed.  He thanked God for "mommie and daddy and sister and grandmama and grandaddy and gammy and papi and all my toys."  He told Lara she needed to pray to, then he told me I should pray as well.  I prayed that God would help us be good to each other because some of us were stressed out.  

Later that night, the vundo virus was just gone from the computer.  Perhaps it's a virtual miracle.  

Disgusting

Wesley was at the sink washing his hands so he could sprinkle the brown sugar on his oatmeal lunch.  He was commenting on the "different little square bar of soap" I had put in my bag after a recent hotel stay and brought home to use.  (Waste not, want not!)   I reach around his little four year old frame perched on a "stepp-n stool" and grab some Burt's Bees Banana hand salve sitting in the windowsill.  I put it on my knuckles and wonder if Wesley knows the smell of bananas well enough to pick up the aroma.  He doesn't really go for them, so I doubt it.  I hold the little jar under his nose,

 "What does that smell like?"  

"It smells like disgusting," he says matter-of-factly.  He  pronounces the g so hard it is almost a c.  

I look at him with a smirk, then just to clarify: "You mean you don't like it?"  

"That's right." 

Then we look out the window.  Our calico, Lao-Tzu, is crouching in the big 12x18 hole that was dug yesterday for a new back porch.  Like a soldier in a trench, she's peering her head over the edge of the hole at two robins.  She springs up into action and darts at the birds, but gets there too late.  Part of the ground had previously been covered by a smaller slab of concrete.  

"You know why those birds want to root around in that dirt?" I ask. 

He nods and looks at me with bright brown eyes.  

"Because there are lots of worms and bugs that used to live under that concrete that used to be there, and now the birds can get to them!" I say.  

Then I realize Lao-Tzu is prowling the area like a lion waiting at a watering hole.  We open the door and call her back in.  The birds come back to the Shangrila pretty quickly and we sit there watching them hop around and  pull worms out of ground.  

Beware the Ides of March

Over Wesley's past three birthdays, we've found ourselves covered in puke (2nd), getting Wesley stitches in his chin (3rd), and this year with Lara in the ER the night before his party. Beware the ides of March, indeed. Lara was hit in Tulsa by a little old lady: Not physically punched,(that would be interesting) but rammed into by the other lady's car. I told the church that was one more reason they could think of Lara as Wonderwoman, since she evidently has an invisible car like Wonderwoman has an invisible jet. Thankfully, she's okay with some burns from the airbag and soreness. But now we're dealing with purchasing another car just a few months after already buying a car. Hooray.

The best tomato soup ever

My church is full of great cooks.  I was fortunate to score the leftovers of Lori Kellner's tomato soup from our "Souper Bowl Luncheon for Missions" and Lara and I relished it all week afterwards.  I ate it for dessert one night.  It's that good.  Impress your friends with this recipe.  

Sherried Tomato Soup

 

6 Tbsp melted butter

1 med. Onion

1-46 oz. tomato juice

2-14 oz. cans diced tomatoes ( I use petite diced)\

3 Tbsp. chicken base ( 4 boullion cubes if need to substitute)

salt

pepper

1 cup cooking sherry

1 cup whipping crème

chopped fresh parsley and basil

 

Saute diced onions in butter until transluscent.

Add tomatoes with juice.

Add juice, base salt, pepper and stir.

Bring to a near boil, turn off heat.

Add in sherry and cream and stir.

Add parsley and basil to taste.

 

• This is the original recipe.
• To this I add 1-2 cloves garlic, minced
• And 1 tsp Italian seasoning and ¼ tsp crushed red pepper

The Face of Grace

I've always been impressed by iconography.  One of the most important icons in my own life is also the oldest known icon of Jesus Christ Pantocrator at St. Catherine's monastery at Sinai.  I think it was my mentor from college, Jay McDaniel, who first exposed me to this icon.  The seperate halves of this face of Christ each convey such different expressions.  When I look at the right half of the face, I see anger, almost a sneer.  McDaniel said that eye feels like a laser boring right into his soul.  The left half of the face expresses compassion and tenderness.   Do you see the difference?  The left half has a softer eye--it is a gaze of love.  

A truth that I have learned from this icon is that grace is both halves of this icon.  Jesus expresses both tenderness and anger.   I think it is conventional wisdom that grace is only that tender acceptance.  The power of a Wesleyan concept of grace, with the dynamic movement through prevenient, justifying and sanctifying grace is that notion that grace is also perfecting.  "Going on to perfection" sometimes involves deep discomfort and difficulty.  That's one reason I think Lent is such an important season of faith.  We are confronted with Jesus as a rebuker, as a wild man, as an angry man.  Often, we are lulled into the false idea that being a person of faith means we are nice to everybody.  Augustine said "Hope has two beautiful daughters, Anger and Courage.  Anger at the way things are, and the courage to try to change them."  

Sum

Here's the book I'm reading. I heard the author speak on a Tulsa NPR station and thought it sounded good. It is 40 vignettes on the afterlife that are off the wall, but also probing. The book fits in one hand pretty well--Lara and I both read it while we feed Julianna. It earns a thumbs up from me so far-the dust jacket says the afterlife scenarios are "never previously thought of," but I know I've daydreamed about a couple of them. Perhaps they're something in the collective unconscious. Am I dwelling on the afterlife? It first came to mind when I tried to think of a good question for the Transforming Theology Conference (a few days ago). I also wrote this little bit in my journal.

Almost Four.

When she returned at fifteen minutes till midnight, we sat on the couch with her legs resting on mine—me finding it hard to take my eyes off my little girl—she told me that my father had told her that he remembered his mother. His mother had died when he was three and a half years old. His older sister was five, and their two older brothers were already in their 20s and married.
I had never given my grandmother’s death much thought as an actual event. It was more of a circumstance. My grandmother had died when my dad was almost four and my dad’s dad had died when I was almost four.
The circumstance became more of a event in time for me when my wife mentioned that my dad told her that he remembered his mother’s death. He and his five year old sister were at home alone with her when she had the stroke that killed her. He said that they had just finished eating cherry pie, and for the longest time my dad and his sister thought that if you ate cherry pie you would die.
Hearing this was odd to me. I had never heard this before. Furthermore, just that weekend, while Lara and Julianna were away and Wesley and I were home alone together, I had the terrible daydream that I died while Wesley and I were home alone with each other with Lara away. What would my child do? Would he try to wake me? Would he panic? Would he try to find my cellphone and start punching buttons? My son is almost four. He is now as old as my father was when his mother died. He is now as old as I was when my father’s father died.

Perhaps Lent has really soaked into my bones this year.

My Dad and the Grapette bottle

This appeared this morning in the "Paper Trails" section of the Arkansas Democrat Gazette.

Pastor gives a message in a bottle


LINDA CAILLOUET

THROUGH TIME AND SPACE:

Until last week, the empty vintage Grapette bottle rested on a shelf in Rev. Michael Mattox ’s office.
The pastor of First United Methodist Church in Little Rock , known for his quirky collectibles, was given the bottle in the early 1990s by a member of his congregation, then in Arkadelphia. When he became district superintendent and moved to Little Rock , he packed up and brought the bottle. Later, when he became pastor of First United Methodist, he again packed and moved it.
Then he learned that Billy Parker, the man whose funeral he was to preside over last Saturday in Rison, had on many days in his youth bought nickel bottles of Grapette and bags of peanuts for his high school crush Estelle, who eventually became his wife of 51 years. That’s when Mattox knew why he had the bottle and what he needed to do with it.
“It kept staring at me,” the pastor tells Paper Trails. “I thought, ‘It was a gift to me, and I need to make it a gift to Estelle.’”
He took the bottle from the shelf and filled it with water and daffodils he’d plucked from his backyard. During his sermon, the pastor shared the couple’s Grapette story and placed the flower-filled bottle amid the grand arrangements flanking the casket.
Call it a revelation. Or a reassuring message from the departed to loved ones left behind. Or a God moment.
Just not a coincidence. The date on the bottle? 1946 — the first of the four years during which Billy and Estelle shared the drink at a local store during recess breaks.

Night Rainbows

I submitted another application to the Collegeville Institute writing workshop with author Eugene Peterson. Last year I submitted a midrash on the Transfiguration, and that got me a spot as an alternate (12 are accepted). I had to fight the urge to unimaginatively submit the same thing again, since it got me so close before. But, I decided to expand on a journal entry I made a few years ago.  

Night Rainbows

 I had just gotten my son dressed for bed, and a wave of dissatisfaction crashed over me.   Questions raised at a church meeting about my salary had provoked defensive thoughts about my worth to the community.  What was it that I did for them exactly?  I didn’t render any service but the occasional visit to the hospital or home.  And what exactly did I speak about with people when making these visits?  How the football team was doing, how the grass was growing.  Not exactly the kinds of conversations I was having in seminary. I didn’t produce any product except for some words on Sunday, hopefully helping people deepen their relationship with God—but that isn’t exactly a measurable quantity.  I needed some inspiration, so I prayed for it.

I took these questions with me outside to smoke my pipe in what had turned out to be a cold night.  I lit my pipe and stood there focused on the shed in my back yard.  As I was standing there, it suddenly grew brighter.  The trees cast shadows on the grass.  I looked up in the sky and saw a full moon.  The low hanging clouds were moving rather quickly across the sky, and as they passed, the moon would peek out from behind them and illuminate my whole yard.  The radiance of the moon lit up the contours of each cloud moving across the dark sky.  I felt like I was on the bottom of the ocean looking up at silver gilded hulls of great ships, moving in from the north.  From time to time, Venus or Jupiter would also peek through a small break in the clouds, framing the planet momentarily.  It looked surreal, like a photo negative.  As the moon drew my yard out of darkness and cast shadows of the fence and trees, the moment also drew my mind out of the darkness of self-doubt and worry.  I went inside to get Lara, and she had just finished putting Wesley down for the night.  I asked her to get a coat and come out with me.  She was thrilled by the sight as well, and pointed out that the moon was so bright that as the clouds grew thinner at the edges, you could see the water vapors in little wispy rainbows.  Rainbows at night: Symbols of God’s promise that aren’t restrained to the light of day.  Even on a cold dark night, the moon reflects the piercing light of the sun to the extent that it can be broken into colors by the prism of water vapor.  What a miracle!  I was overcome with joy, and took it as an answer to my prayer. 

The Psalmist who wrote Psalm 65 was overcome with awe and reverence for the work of God in the natural world.  The poet lifts up the mountains and the oceans and all the things that generate a sense of wonder in the human heart.  That night, Lara looked up in the sky and said, “there is proof of God’s existence!”  She was thankful that I had shared the moment with her, and I was thankful that she had shared her experience with me. 

That moment in my first year of parish ministry has reminded me to look for the rainbows even at night.  I have learned that I can either accept the readily apparent darkness, or I can search for those uncanny and unexpected signs of God’s presence in the abyss.  God is like the wind.  Or perhaps a stronger statement that is no less true is simply that God is the wind.  The wind is more noticeable when it is blowing hard and rustling the trees.  We can see its activity by the things it moves: The leaves it blows across the yard, the tree limbs waving back and forth.  Yet we sometimes forget that we take this wind into our body and it moves us too.  It brings oxygen to our blood and powers the spark of life and consciousness.  Our relationship with our Creator is as basic as breath. 

So, any moment is “crammed with Heaven,” as Elizabeth Barrett Browning observed.  There have been many night rainbows that I have been too bogged down in myself to notice along the way.  I have been a blackberry picker.  God’s presence takes that acute awareness that Zen monks cultivate toward their own breath.  As Solomon prayed for wisdom, I pray for the attentiveness to “take off my shoes” and acknowledge the presence of God.  I pray for the patience to look at the world around me in wonder.  I pray for strength and insight to jettison all the burdensome mental cargo that makes me unwieldy and slow to shift course.  I pray for the humility to know that even when I see something spectacular, a more profound vision can be attained with the help and companionship of another.  

My question to the TRansforming Theology conference:

I heard about Transforming Theology on the Emergent Village. Looks like a bold plan, and I look forward to seeing what comes of it. At the invitation of Tony Jones and Tripp I submitted the following question to be posed to the people.

New project designed by Phillip Clayton

Lenten Discipline

I thought the MethodX description of the Ignatian examen was good. I'm linking it on the church website to give the people another option for Lenten practices. I remember learning about the examen from Andy Drietcer at Claremont. We used this book called "Sleeping with bread." That book's hard to forget and beautiful.

this video made me happy

I hear echos of Sgt. Peppers--do you?


I heard her on my Jem channel on Pandora. It's truly outrageous.

I was listening to a Brahms cd with Julianna yesterday and Prelude and Fugue in F minor. That reminded me of Jem, who I remember Nick Harcourt playing frequently on "Mornings become Eclectic" (why can't more NPR sataions be like KCRW?)

Anyway, I decided to see if "They" had a video that I could share with you, and there are two. One looks like it was made in the indie days, and one looks like it was not.

Jem - They (2005)(TMF){MTV} @ Yahoo! Video

Space Striptease! (Not that I'm complaining--it's a good song!)

Checking in on KCRW clued me in on this: Gotta love Femi Kuti

Katherine Hepburn's laugh

I enjoy little things about movies. For example, I really like the way Toby's character in American Splendor says "nyurd."

Last night, I was also enamored by Katherine Hepburn's little sarcastic laugh in Philadelphia Story. At the beginning of this clip


Long live youtube! And for the record, I consider myself a nyurd!

It's been a while

Sunny and 34 degrees

When it’s dry and cold,

You don’t even get that satisfying

puff of steam from your breath.

Trumpeting from your mouth

like visible soul.

You just walk around clear

Eyed and shocked

At the wonder

Of the cold air crammed

In your chest.

It will probably be a while

That is, before I get back to blogging on a semi-regular basis. I'm sorry, but I have this little girl smiling at me these days, and that takes a lot of time.

Something to dream on

Like a Wild Ass at Home in the Wilderness

That's the working title for a book chapter I am working on.  I'm writing about fidelity in the age of a hypersexualized, consumer driven culture.  The title of the chapter a reference to Jeremiah 2: 24, where Israel is described as a donkey in heat, sniffing the air with unrestrained lust.  I'll perhaps turn to a discussion on sexual fidelity being a celebration of relationship, vs. sexual “freedom” being the enslavement to the animal appetite.  I've been reading Rob Bell's Sex God, CS Lewis's chapter on marriage and sex in Mere Christianity, and a I've read this review of Raymond Ortland's Whoredom: God's Unfaithful Wife in Biblical Theology.   Looks good.  Anyway, that's why you have had no posts.  Does that topic sound interesting to you?  I begin with Jesus' passage to "pluck" (that word is so graphic--I always visualize a fork popping an eye right out of the socket with this noise as my mental soundtrack.) out the eyeball if it causes you lust after another.  By the way, as I was trying to find a link with that sound, I stumbled upon this.  Kinda cool.  I've used it before to get the sounds of pigs feeding for a prodigal son experiential worship setting for the Muskogee district confirmation for a couple of years now.  Well.  Back to the grindstone.  

Make a Smilebox greeting

Is God mean like Captain Hook?

Actually, "is Dod mean like Captain hook," asked Wesley (with his mouth full of Cocoa Puffs) as he thrust his crow's nest from his pirate ship at me across the dinner table.

"No," I said, "God is really nice." (Even though my recent sermon prep. has taken me through Leviticus and Joshua, so I kind of smirked at my own simple answer, considering if I were a Canaanite, I would indeed think God was like Captain Hook, or worse, but hey, the kid's three.)

"Because God loves us?" asked/stated Wesley, more a statement to be confirmed than a question to be answered.

"Yes, God loves us very much."

"But Captain Hook doesn't love anybody?"

"Hmmm.. I don't know. Maybe he loves Smee. But, do you think anyone loves Captain Hook?"

"I don't know."

"Well, maybe that's his problem! Maybe he just wants to be loved."

"Like Darth Bader?"

"Mmmm hmmm, like Darth Vader."

(Wesley wanted to see what Darth "Bader" looked like under his mask, so I cued up the scene from Return of the Jedi, and it opened up a whole world for Wesley about how sometimes villains are good on the inside and just need to be loved. I've always loved the bad guys.)

Excuse for minimal posting in Nov.

I've been enjoying these kinds of things, and that hasn't left much time to write.

Links

Did you know one original use of blogs was to keep track of links and make them available when you were away from your home computer's "add to favorites?"  I'm gonna do that now.  Feel free to connect yo-self.

http://empireremixed.wordpress.com/2008/02/14/to-hell-with-romans-13/

http://propheticheretic.wordpress.com/

http://jonnybaker.blogs.com/jonnybaker/worship_tricks/wt82.html

By the way, I'm finally getting to achieve my dream for the past 6 or 7 years of sitting at a table picking Jonny Baker's brain.  Jealous?  

The final countdown...

That song always gets stuck in my head in times like these.  Sorry for the long hiatus, but we're anticipating the birth of our daughter Julianna Lee any day now, so we've been making lots of preparations, and haven't had time to blog really.  We went to the OB today, and after doing some measurements (which aren't that accurate, but oh well) said that JuLee was about 8 pounds already--he predicted 1o pounds if we got to due date (Nov. 7).  So he let us know that if we wanted to induce, it would go lickity split.  Lara's "readings" are favorable for a quick delivery, but perhaps we're just being overly optimisic.  She had about a 18 hour labor with almost 4 hours of pushing with WG--but every pregnancy is different, right!  

So now we decide if we want to "schedule" her birth or not.  There are definate pros (like getting her out before she is gigantic), but then there's an odd feeling to tampering with nature and the "due course" of things too.  (Of course, we don't feel weird getting an epidural).  So--look forward to photos sometime soon!  Maybe not next week, but maybe so.  

A place that makes sense

I wanted to pass along this great article by Bill McKibben I found in the Christian Century.  It's about a community close to Stockholm that is virtually waste free.  I like the idea of putting my bananna peels in a pneumatic tube that whooshes them away into some community compost pile.  That sounds like a lot of fun.  It reminds me of the laundry shoot that my friend Brandon and I used to send our He-men down at his house.   That's why I wanted to live in a two story house--so I could have a luandry shoot.  So far, the dream remains a dream.  

My new name

According to the "Sarah Palin baby name generator," I'd be Chalk Revelations Palin.  Hahaha.  I love that it's "Revelations" instead of "Revelation."  That's funny.  Wesley Garrett would be Wesson Scalper.  Yikes.  I'm leaving it to Lara to have fun with her name and Julianna Lee (who's on the way in Nov.)  Not too late to change her's to a Palinesqe Jinx Lounger or something like that.  

Missing Los Angeles theaters

When the weather is a perfect 70 degrees, I miss Los Angeles, where the weather is like that most of the time.   One thing I loved about living in Los Angeles was going to the movies in theaters that had real character and history and lore and beauty.   One of my favorites was the Majestic, just south of Wilshire on Westwood Blvd.  There's a beautiful backlit mural of the Hollywood Hills and Westwood that glows during the showing of the movie.  I think I saw Finding Nemo and the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind there.  I tried and tried to find a photo of that for you, but as far as I can tell, they are just "coming soon."  

Another great theater is the Fox Westwood Village. 

This is where most of the premiers are when you see Hollywood stars walking in on the red carpet.  It is beautiful inside and out (as evidenced by the photos.)  Mission revival architecture, and a big star of david on the ceiling in the theater. 

 I think we saw the Lord of t

he Rings movies there, waiting in line with fans dressed like all the characters.  

This one was

 convenient too, cause it was a block away from the UCLA medical center (where Lara worked).   

The El Capitan theater, on Hollywood Blvd, just opposite the famous Chinese Theater, isn't spectacular from the outside, but inside is something else.  

Disney owns this theater and they use it to premier all their features.  It's weird to see Sleeping Beauty 

and Cars right next to 

the 

scuzzy Hollywood shops hawking sex toys.  We saw the premier of Pirates of the Caribbean here.   Oh, they also have a house organist who plays before the film rolls.    

Oh, and if this is your kind of thing, there's a website called "Cinema Treasures" that I've enjoyed visiting.  They have the story of historic theaters, with photos, for theaters around the country.  They even have a profile on our local "Orpheum" in Okmulgee, OK!

It's just a motto

One of Andrew Thompson's articles about the UMC slogan "Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors," has always stuck with me. I understand where Andrew is coming from, but his perspective is a little more rigid than mine (an influence of the cantankerously brilliant Hauerwas on Andrew, I would guess) Not that you can't have your own opinion, Andrew--just making a connection, that's all.
Well, I ran across an article today in the Oklahoma Contact that gave me the confidence that appealing to our motto in matters of debate and doctrinal discussion is not ill founded. Whether it came from an Ad-agency or the Holy Spirit--others think of our church in this way, obviously. The article tells of a fatality accident on I40 involving a young Jewish girl on her way home from college in California. When her distrought father searched for help--he googled the local Methodist church nearest his daughter's accident because

"Aren't you the open doors and open hearts church? You people do things like this to help others, don’t you?’"

Brack assured Neuman the church members would do whatever they could.

It may not be hard-boiled dead german white guy theology, it may come off as mamsy-pamsy anything goes religion to critics--but it worked in conveying the heart of the church to this man. That's the power of the Gospel.

Near Death Experiences

I'm listening to a pretty good interview on Studio Tulsa with Sam Barnia, a guy who is a contributor to National Geographic program on the subject airing soon. He's a director of the "mind/body" symposium of researchers, doctors, etc. I suppose anyone who'd living is somewhat interested in what it is like to die--since it's a ride we're all in line for. The descriptions of out of body experiences and traveling toward a light or through a tunnel are intriguing. I read a book called "The Brief History of the Dead," that had a lot of great imagry about the body transforming into the spirit body. I'm also looking forward to reading Spook I really enjoyed her earlier book, Stiff: The Curious lives of human cadavers. Interested in a quircky, good read--well there you go.

Getting caught up on films

During the late summer, I've always seemed to find my way to the library or video store to check out some movies that have slipped by without me seeing. (After my senior year of high school, this practice got me several dates with the foxy video store girl. I distinctly remember trying to look for movies that would impress an older, more sophisticated woman. I guess it worked!) Now that I'm married with silver hairs (Lara loves to point them out.) , my interest in getting dates with the video store girl has waned, and I settle for turning the Tulsa public library website into a free version of Netflix. Here are some that I've seen.

There Will be Blood--Danial Day Lewis is his usual brilliant self. The movie is sparse (first 15 minutes go by without a word) but with a great story filled with sawdust and oil.

Thank You for Smoking-- Aaron Eckhart (sp) is a tobacco lobbyist and a mentor to his son. I love his self perception as one who defends the right for people to make their own minds up about things. Very funny movie.

No Country for Old Men--The new face of the grim reaper! I got into this one and can see why it won the Oscars that it did. I felt edgy and pursued the whole time I was watching, and because I broke it up over lunch and later in the evening, I felt edgy and pursued all day.

The Children of Men--Okay, it was my second time on this one, but had to skim through it again, specifically for two shots--the long long long shot (like 7 or 8 minutes of action without a cut!) of Clive Owen and Julianne Moore getting attacked on that country road, and for the scene with the seige on the projects and "Key" carrying out the first baby born on Earth in 27 years--it's quite a good metaphor for the Nativity, I'd say.

Darjeeling Limited--I'm a big fan of Wes Anderson, and this is the only film of his not in my collection. First one I also did not see in the theater. Well--having kids'll do that to you. This seemed a lot like Bottle Rocket to me, with Owen Wilson playing a similar character: Idealistic schemer set on bringing about a reunion and living life to its fullest. Wes really dresses up the set and background (which he's been doing since the Royal Tannenbaums, I'd say). But set in the visually rich and colorful world of India, his palette has grown larger. That's where he seems to pour his increasing budgets for his films. It's like a kid who keeps getting a bigger crayon box until he finally has the huge-assed one with the crayon sharpener.

If my reviews are lacking something you want--sorry, go to IMDB

on the high seas

I never liked these, but Wes said he wanted to go on it, and mom is preggers, so that leaves me. You can call me Ishmael. Oh, and uh...yeah, that's me. And Wesley loved it--we rode it no less than 10 times.

Best summary on the value of doubt I've heard

In a recent interview in the Christian Century, author Ron Hansen crystalized what I've always thought in an unspoken cloud of ideas. The question is about his new book based on Gerard Manley Hopkins (a poet I've always loved). Now I've requested the book from the library--it's called Exiles. Anyway, the question and answer are as follows:
When people think of Hopkins they often think first of his faith. But he also wrestled with doubt.

I have a priest friend who points out that the opposite of faith is not doubt but certainty. I think God intended that--it is a way of making us creative instead of smug in our belief. God plants in us the seed to love and worship God, and the seed is enough to make us want to seek God out, but not enough to fully get there. That reaching, that striving, is what God is really interested in--that creative activity that all of us should pursue.

Amen Bro. Hansen--I'm gonna comment on Jeremy's "one minute sermon" post that this would be my entirely borrowed one minute sermon.

Eucharistic Theology in Film

I finally watched a movie that had been suggested to me by one of my mentors years ago. It is the Oscar winning Danish film from 1988, Babette's Feast. (that link is IMDB--wikipedia gives away a plot point that I wish I had been surprised with, although knowing it while watching the film was somewhat enjoyable too). There are many beautiful aspects of the film, but what appealed to me was viewing the film as an analogy of the Eucharist--something that important plot point that I found out about before the film hammers home). I won't give you all the details, because maybe you haven't seen it and would like to watch it without spoilers. But, you should check it (Tulsa Library had it) out and comment below. One thing it portrays is the Protestant struggle with Pietistic dualism. Nothing illustrates better the broad indictment of life contained in the words of Ecclesiastes, "Vanity, Vanity, All is vanity," than when they come in this film. Also, I don't know that I've seen a more poignant symbol of the Eucharist than what is in this film. I'll give you a few days to watch before I go to the comments and analyze more deeply. (so if you don't want to have any more info about the movie than this before watching, don't click on the comments if there are any there.) Don't be like me and wait years to watch this one!

The Theology of Potty Training

I was reading this parenting book that Lara had read and found helpful, and it sparked some theological thinking. The passage read as follows:

“If guilt is an ice cube, shame is an iceberg: it’s in the same basic category, but it’s bigger, goes deeper, and can do a lot of damage. Guilt goes along with remorse, and tends to be associated with a particular act of misbehavior. Shame, on the other hand, tends to pervade the entirety of the person in question. Shame goes along with disgrace and humiliation. Whereas a person feeling guilty can rouse himself to make amends, a person feeling shame has a much more difficult task.

Shame has to do with a feeling of being wrong, stupid, bad, inept. Shame is the hot potato of mental states: No one wants to be left holding it for long. No sooner do we find ourselves with it than we set about to find some way to hand it off to someone else. There is no wrong without right, stupid without smart, bad without good, or inept without competent. IF you are to get rid of shame—itf you are to feel right or smart or good or competent—then someone else has to be assigned these other, less desireable qualities. As such, shame tends to travel from person ot person. It gets handed off.

(Dana Chidekel, Parents in Charge: Setting Healthy, Loving Boundaries for your Child. New York: Citadel, 2002, 206.)

That got me thinking about Christ taking our shame at the cross, the most shameful way of dying that was available to the God-man. After dying in humiliation, even uttering an unanswered plea to Elijah, he is buried with the shame of the world, and he leaves it there. We can turn over our shame to God, because God has willingly taken it. 1^st Peter 2: 6 says “For in Scripture it says: "See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame." We can put a halt to the endless “passing” of our shame to others by giving it up to God. God fully takes that shame in the form of a cross, and rises from shame and death to show us our potential as “re-born” beings. Chidekel states that “Babies do not feel shame.” And then makes a good case for tying shame, which kicks in during the toddler years, to a legacy of toilet training.” As for the soteriological aspect of the freedom from shame, We can be re-born into the world, free of shame…like an infant. We can be saved from shame by yielding this one most private and personal emotion to God

Chidekel states about shame,

“Shame seems to be hard-wired into humans. While someone can certainly set out intentionally to make you feel ashamed, shame will arise in the absence of another’s conscious intent to inspire it within you.”

The author says that shame is seemingly “hard-wired” into us. Perhaps the concept of shame and the concept of the “original sin” are the same. The story tells us that after eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, Adam and Eve cover themselves “in shame.” God’s action in the cross is said to be the “equal and opposite reaction” of the shame that is inherent in the human condition. God is offering us a freedom from our shame by taking that shame from us. The only way to stop the cycle of shame, to stop perpetuating it onto those whom we love, is to yield the shame to God and understand that we’re not created to bear it. It is alien to our core as Good Creation.

Poem from the Christian Century: As I sleep

This caught my eye and then my soul.

Turning as I sleep, I take
Across my eyes the silent words
Sung by our old sun's golden birds--
They hope I will awake.

Learning, I have longed to shake
An apple from the sacred tree
That sings sleep into unity--
Before my true day-break:

Yearning, at the end, to make
My entrance in a gown of light
Woven of day, woven of night--
Hearing, at last, "Awake!"

Treehouse Rock

I've been on a treehouse kick recently, I suppose, since I blogged about the treehouse chapel idea yesterday. Couldn't get enough of browsing thru treehouse images, and came across the world's largest treehouse in Alnwick Garden, in Northumberland. Looks like a good vacation destination for the future.  The Alnwick Garden in England has the world's largest treehouse.

6000 feet would be big enough for a whole college religious life center! The frame of mind that treehouses inspire would just seem to lend itself to a place of worship, dontcha think?

The church I'd build

I came across a note I had made to myself some years ago when I used to carry around a day planner. It said, "Chapel Idea--small chapel built in a tree. A treehouse chapel. Icons Painted on Walls."

What a good reminder. I haven't built a treehouse chapel yet, but I had a dream not too long ago that I do someday. What better place to worship than a treehouse? The loftiness, the views, the unique feel of the closeness of the structure to the tree (with the best treehouses incorporating the tree in the interior of the house, in my opinion.) to me engenders a natural feeling of the soul's closeness and being infused by the Divine.

Doubtful this would ever fly in Oklahoma though--maybe the Pacific Northwest would be a good home for a treehouse chapel. I think in the dream it was in Florida.


Since then, I bought a book called Remarkable Trees of the World, and found that it has actually been done in France. The Chapel Oak in Normandy, built in 1696 (the Oak was a sacred relic for centuries before that) . I like elements of all the other treehousese pictured too, and the chapel would likely be a combination of all of them. Haven't decided if I'd use stained glass, only clear glass, or a combination.)


















Perhaps the idea comes from my early experiences at Fay Jones masterpiece chapel in Eureka Springs, AR--Thorncrown? It's tree-housy, and incorporates the landscape around it, no?

Revenge of the Little Cups

Some time ago,
I gave you a little taste of why I regretfully preserve the custom in this church of using little plastic shot glasses of juice during communion. This past Sunday they came back to bite me again. If you're keeping score here are the list of pros and cons for little cups:

Pros:


Cons:

1. Destroy the symbolism of the sacrament messing with the image and words related to "one cup."
2. Aren't found in scripture.
3. Look silly when I hold up a little cup or a tray of cups while saying, "and after supper he took the cup."

Okay, so many in my church would add "are sanitary" to the list of pros (which in their mind would outweigh the 3 strikes against) but still--this is my blog, so the little cups have a running tally of -3. And today we make it -4.

4: You have to either over-estimate how many are coming to take communion, or scramble to get another tray in the midst of the worship service.

From now on, we will over-estimate.
This past Sunday, with about 10 left to serve at the chancel, and with a family of visitors just kneeling there for 5 minutes, my ushers had to do the "little cup scramble." My communion server turned to me with wide open eyes after I had gotten to the end of the chancel distributing bread, and I saw my trusty usher at the back getting ready to head to the kitchen. "Get the big cup," I mouthed to him while gesturing in a chalice type motion. He misunderstood what I was asking for and brought me the "little cup filler" thing with the bulb that Wesley likes to play with. We hadn't given him a tray to bring in the little cups, so this is what he had to do. Un-beknownst to him, I had put bleach in the little cup filler before the service to try and clean the mold that had accumulated in the bottom of it. However, in the heat of the moment, I'd forgotten this little tidbit of information. The juice had a strange look to it, like purple kool-aid instead of juice. "What--are we out of juice?" I thought as I began to fill up some little cups on the table. My next thought was--"hmm....what is that smell? Bleach!" I'm glad the Spirit opened my nose to smell or else we might of been like another kool-aid swilling church. So, I turned around again and simply said to the usher, "we're going to need the chalice." Chalice to the rescue! I gave the 10 or so who hadn't yet partaken another piece of bread, and they dipped them in the chalice. Communion accomplished. I explained to the congregation what had happened (because some of the folks who had been the last to receive the little cups were visitors who had been kneeling there for like 7 minutes while we got the whole thing straitened out, and I didn't want them to think communion regularly included such theatrics.) Even so, this isn't a change I'll be making soon--most of the people are just a little too skittish about it, and I want to encourage a welcoming stance toward communion. On every other Sunday we offer communion in the chapel after church by intinction, so....

Any freudians out there?

Dream about preaching

Church was full to the gills.  My liturgist was off the bulletin, had prepared something different, but very Spirit led.  Randy Johnson, a musician from Bartlesville, was also in attendance and played a bassoon and a flute during the call to worship, which I had written using the lyrics of a contemporary song, but that the liturgist took to mean she was supposed to sing.  I could tell the church had been working behind the scenes unbeknownst to me. 

During announcements, I started by asking congregation what they would announce.  Many evacuees were there to worship, they started sharing great things.  Testimonies.  Katherine stopped me when she remembered she had an announcement.  The evacuees had opened these doors in the side of the church to let in the fresh air.  K went weaving in and outside the doors as she gave her announcement.  I remember her saying, “and there are going to be canoes, and wilderness, and pine trees” it was kind of a spontaneous thing. 

When I finally decided I needed to give my sermon, (first of all I couldn’t find a bulletin, and secondly I couldn’t find my sermon.  I could find a bunch of old sermons, but not today’s sermon..

The whole time I was fumbling around, kids were just running around like crazy.  They were going up to the microphone and announcing car washes and all sorts of things.  Some of the kids in my present church mixed in with some of my youth from Bartlesville.

Another interesting thing, the pulpit kept changing size, and I kept taking apart the microphone trying to get it to work.  I remember walking up to give the sermon, and I couldn’t find it, but even if I could, you couldn’t even see me behind the pulpit.  There were also flowers right in front of the pulpit to where when it was the right size, even the flowers were obstructing my view and the cong’s view of me.  I kept embarrassingly trying to move the flowers.  Worried that the cong. would think they “had” to be watching me, and thinking they would think I was full of myself for moving the flowers so they could see my face as I gave the sermon.  But I was actually just concerned for the people who hear better when they can see what they are listening to.   

Roma fingerprinting and Holocaust death toll: Common Knowledge?

I heard an interview on BBC radio today that brought up the new Italian plan to fingerprint Roma, or Gypsy, children in that country in an effort to punish the parents who may be using their children to panhandle, steal, etc. The interviewer compared the plan to what the Nazis (and participating countries) did to the Roma, Jews, etc. in the 30s and 40s. (Gotta love British interviewing) It got me thinking about the holocaust and its death toll.
It seems to me that most people, when asked how many people were killed during the Holocaust would say "6 million," or "6 million Jews." Which is only about half of the death toll of the holocaust , as most historians estimate. Poles, Communists, Roma, mentally and physically disabled people, and other "undesireables" account for up to 5 million more people. The Roma are probably the hardest to estimate, since there are no hard and fast population statistics on them.
Jewish people were of course most drastically affected by the Holocaust, and have culturally woven that experience into Jewish identity through Yom Hashoa and the other ways. But I don't know that the Poles or the Roma have similarly taken the genocide of their populations into cultural memory.

Have you had similar experiences of the general public being ignorant of the true death toll of the Holocaust?

Reaching out with the Old

Sometimes it's nice to hear you're not just an oddball, I read in Christian Century's June 17 issue the following...."

By a ratio of almost 2 to 1, unchurched Americans prefer churches that look more like medieval cathedrals to the modern, utilitarian church facilities that currently are being constructed.

This preference for the Gothic, found among both unchurched Catholics and unchurched Protestants, is even more pronounced among people between the ages of 25 and 34. "I don't like modern churches, they seem cold," said one survey respondent. "I like the smell of candles burning, stained glass windows and an intimacy that's transcendent." (survey by Lifeway Research.)

....From the article linked above...“Quite honestly, this research surprised us,” said Ed Stetzer, director of LifeWay Research and LifeWay Christian Resource’s missiologist in residence.

“We expected they’d choose the more contemporary options, but they were clearly more drawn to the aesthetics of the Gothic building than the run-of-the-mill, modern church building.”

Well, I'm not surprised, Ed. I've always had a feeling about this---now I know that feeling is part of the collective unconscious and not just my own uncommon preference. Ha! I'm right. (I try to get in one of these "Ha! I'm right"s at least once a day. Usually my wife is the lucky recipient of said "H!IR's" but today, you all get to share in the glorious experience. ON the topic of really helpful worship findings, make plans to attend the Worship in a Postmodern Accent Workshop
So, how would the Oklahoma Conference like to sink money into building materials that would be required to build a church that 25-34 year olds would prefer to worship in--or should the New church starts initiative be in the market for a good, "pre-owned" gothic church? You want to see photos of my dream appointment in New York City? It was built by the Methodists--but they wanted to attract an ecumenical congregation in a Byzantine neighborhood. Yes, I fall in line with the preferences of the unchurched, and struggle with the implications for how we might allocate resources to start new congregations.

Camp Communion Three Day theme

Next week I'm helping to dean Muskogee District Camp. I've been given leadership of the morning communion service before breakfast, which isn't mandatory. Because of the time and the probable spiritual disposition (maturity level) of those youth willing to wake up early to start the day with communion, I'm going to go ahead and go "a little deeper" than I would with your average cross section of camp kids. I'll let them know that I hope they can make it to all three services, because they're going to be somewhat connected. The final communion service on Thurs will be structured much like a Quaker meeting (even though the Quakers don't celebrate the sacrament) and will focus on helping the youth speak about what communion means to them (in the interest of the camp theme being "know it, live it, SHARE it." and "being ready to give a reason for the hope that is within us." (main camp scripture from 1 Peter 3) Thurs service will also be the chance for the youth (and whoever else) to serve each other communion (further "sharing it.") Working backwards, Wednesday will be focused on silence and contemplation with a walking meditation. Tuesday will be focus on creation and inspiration as I share what communion has meant to me and my experience with communion at camp and when I introduce the idea of the three day focus: CReation, Observation/Silence, Speaking. Well what do you know, an acronym for the three day theme is CROSS. How handy.

RIP Back to the Future Set and Bihops Schnase's book

Lamentations! Sounds like the Universal studios burned. As an honorary resident of Hill Valley, I mourn today.

Also--I started a sermon series and book study of the "Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations," which OK Conf. has used as a foundation of its strategic plan for all local churches. The study tonight had about 8 discuss Radical Hospitality. It was a great conversation, and the folks had some good insights into our church. I'm looking forward to the rest of the conversation.