War or Peace

Who's bold enough to believe
In either love, or war?
Both just leave you busted, and broken down
Wanting more.

I hope I never, ever know what it really means to experience war. That would make me lucky, and rare on a human scale. I don't know how it really feels, but I dreamed it last night. I peered through the window with my children by my side, trying impossibly to hide behind the sill so as not to be seen. Outside, an army in street clothes stole through the neighborhood, house to house with the occasional sound of resistance ringing in the air, but ultimately submission. The fear that I felt was horrible, and my children looked to us for answers...and safety. In the dream, we were helpless against the intruders, and terrible things happened. I'm sad to say that upon waking, my first thought was disappointment at not owning a gun. As though just owning one would salve my fear; or would it only potentially force someone else to feel it for me?

Many families are experiencing that fear right now. Fear that, as a fat and happy American, I cannot begin to understand. And why do they endure this? I challenge you to find a violent situation that doesn't boil down to one person seeking power over another. The only reason violence ever occurs is because someone has been held down. There may be moments where the violence appears to be defensive and just; but somewhere in the past is a moment where, had the fair choice been made, the present moment could have been changed.

I'll never forget the terror of the dream I had last night, but as vivid as it was I cannot imagine the terror of reality. War is over, if you want it.

Father's Day

This year was a good Father's Day in many ways; although I didn't expect it to be. I basically hadn't seen the kids since Tuesday night because Megan and I were doing tech for Broadway at Bethel and Megan's cousin Sarah was nannying for us. Wednesday night the kids all left our house and stayed with Sarah's family until Sunday. Sunday afternoon the kids came to campus with Megan's mom to watch the show. It was so wonderful to hug and kiss them. There is so much warmth and love in their little arms. It felt so invigorating to just inhale them after the week apart, when I never felt we'd quite reconnected after our Vegas trip. I bemoan the business of my life that keeps me away from them so much, yet I know that they need to be confident without me there. Maggie is turning into such a beautiful young person. She's got freckles all over her face--signs of happy times under the sun. She shows me such maturity alongside her childishness. There is so much joy in her smile, it hurts to know that she will experience pain at all. Lennon is so full of engagement that it sometimes comes out in kicks and pinches, but he really just wants to experience contact. He's such a good little hugger! He's starting to tell us why things are funny, and they both ask such good questions all the time. Maggie asked me about Adam and Eve recently and whether I believed it was true. She's really thinking about things. What a wonder is wonderment! What a lucky dad I am.

Father's Day is really a time to celebrate the kids and all that they bring; not least of all because we lost Megan's dad on Father's Day, 2007. Remembering him and how he would have loved these two is a wonderful way to celebrate them, while acknowledging and healing from the pain at the same time. If it wasn't for the little lives around us, the loss of the big lives would be too much for the heart to take. So, Jim, here's a nod to you. We miss you so--your steadiness, your thoughtfulness, your sly humor and your gentle direction. Your legacy lives here on earth through these children. You are not a memory to them; you are a real and living person, waiting to see us all again, hopefully later than sooner. And so, the day for fathers that I thought might always be bitter at the memory of your passing, is all the sweeter for the memory of your love.

Way back in nineteen-hundred and sixty-seven

I can't begin to tell you the joy I experienced on a recent evening, in our basement, slung in various states of repose around the room, cuddled tight in blankets and watching The Beatles animated movie Yellow Submarine with the kids. I've always loved the movie so much but haven't gotten it out since Maggie was a toddler. Lennon is so in to being named after a Beatle and bringing it all to him in cartoon form was a great time. As we watched, all singing along, learning the words as we went, I experienced the unique beauty of sharing a deep passion of mine with my children--who are in fact my deepest passion. The kids would occasionally check themselves on making sure they knew which Beatle was whom, ask me to clarify storyline (not easy in a fairly trippy plot), or ask questions about the individual Beatles' personalities. In the end, Maggie told me she really wanted a CD with all the movie songs on it. I probably can't wait until birthdays or Christmas to bestow that gift.

"Try to love one another right now"

The student part of me says that I should finish a book before I comment on it. The emotional part of me says that I must share my experience now even though it is incomplete.

No Other Name? A Critical Survey of Christian Attitudes Toward the World Religions by Paul Knitter is rocking my world. It's more or less a text book, and it's pretty academic, but it's a wonderful exploration of how Christians have chosen to react to one big problem: Christianity claims to have access to the full and final revelation/incarnation of God on earth, yet after 2000 years of mission work and attempts to convert the world Christianity cannot even claim a majority of human souls, let alone all of them. How then do Christians deal with the fact that so many humans claim a full and satisfying revelation of God without Christ? An amazing question if you ask me, and a clarification of a journey I've been on for awhile but couldn't clearly state.

Knitter explores 7 reactions to this Christian conundrum: all are relative; all are essentially the same; all have a common psychic origin; the conservative evangelical model of one true religion; the mainline Protestant model of salvation only in Christ; the Catholic model of many ways, one norm; the theocentric model of many ways to the center. He then attempts to offer a solution that lets Christians still be specifically and energetically Christian. I'm only through the first two explorations, preparing to dive into the concept of one psychic origin.

Here's the format: the reaction as most clearly stated by a particular theologian or proponent, two other cases for the point of view, questions presented for Christians, and problems with the position. My favorite observation so far comes from "metaphysician-mystic" Frithjof Schuon, commenting on the reaction that all are essentially the same. As explained by Knitter:

"...he sees the dividing lines among religions running not vertically between the different religions but horizontally across them all. It is not that all Christians are different from all Hindus. Rather, there is something that makes for a definite difference between one Christian and the next; this same something makes for the same difference between one Hindu and the next. And what makes for common differences among Christians as among Hindus also constitutes a fundamental unity between certain Christians and certain Hindus."

These commonalities are basically defined as responding to an esoteric or an exoteric God; fundamentally, do persons find more meaning in an introverted relationship (more commonly represented by Eastern religions and societies [Buddhist, Hindus, etc]) or in an extroverted relationship (more commonly represented by Western religions and societies [Judaism, Christianity, Islam]). So far, I've seen nothing to convince me that the many religions are conceptually different from the many paintings of an art class observing the very same subject.

Exciting.

"...where the bright lights and the big city meet."

I am such a bleeding heart.

We spent a weekend in Las Vegas and, with the exception of the very happy couple who were married, I hated just about every minute of it. All I could think the whole time was that here was the epicenter of everything that is wrong about America and about the world: excess, avarice, detachment, selfishness, mindless distraction, mass consumerism, perversion and poverty. And listen, I'm no prude by a longshot but I don't think every 10th vehicle needs to advertise "Hot Babes Straight To You" to get the point across. And yes, there were children--tons of them. We, as discerning adults can make sense of not only the massive amounts of sensory stimulation (although it took us half a day to adjust to that) and sexuality, but what's the redeeming value in having your kids there?

As we stood in front of the Bellagio, towering high in the western sky, watching the plumes of thousands of gallons of water being launched into the air by high-powered cannon-fountains, the only amazement I felt was at being in the middle of the desert staring at an amount of water used for entertainment that could have quenched millions of mouths worth of thirst. Not just the water, but the dollars spent to create this neat but pointless spectacle could have made a difference in the world in countless ways, innumerable places.

The indelible image in my mind was that of a homeless man on the north strip, bedraggled, rancid, manged and emaciated, passed out at the bus stop. At his feet lay a container spilled onto its side, bleeding its unknown contents on to the sidewalk. On his back a shirt proclaiming the spectacular Treasure Island Resort Hotel in Las Vegas. Such a billboard never entered the minds of the Las Vegas Bureau of Tourism.