Then we read: "Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying 'I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?' But Jesus answered him, 'Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.' Then John consented." God asks our consent when he takes our part by taking our place.
Later, on the night before he was betrayed, Jesus poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet. He came to Peter and Peter said, "Lord, do you wash my feet?" Jesus answered, "What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand." Peter declared, "You shall never wash my feet." Jesus said, "If I do not wash you, you have no part in me." He will not serve us against our will. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
I read of a recently converted prison inmate who was so determined to share the Good News he'd found with his fellow prisoners that he initially literally fought with one of them to try to get him to accept the Gospel. God doesn't work like that. It isn't that God requires our permission, but that God loves us too deeply to work in our lives without it.
We aren't that way, because we don't love as selflessly as God loves. If things aren't going the way we think they should, we'll try manipulating things to get our way, controlling people's feelings and responses, pulling their strings.
We misunderstand God's intentions. We still insist on thinking that God is a spoilsport who wants to limit our fun and make us miserable. Knowing what it is in our lives that we are unwilling to give up, we convince ourselves that God's desire is to deprive us of that thing. We do not see how the treasure to which we cling is worthless, and cannot fathom the joy and the love that we forsake so that we might hang onto it, while God patiently waits for us to consent that he may take our place.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Dark adolescent nights
He was a year younger than me (turns out to be two). I don't know what he knew, but I suspect that we were probably about equally ignorant. I didn't understand why what we were doing was wrong, exactly. I knew it was private, but as a very sheltered fourteen-year-old, I don't think I grasped that it was sexual, or maybe I just didn't have a sense yet of what that would really mean. Still, I was certain to the core that it was wrong; my dad had made absolutely sure I understood that a few years earlier. I don't think I knew that our actions would be considered any more forbidden than that sort of contact with a girl would have been. When his older sister and, the following year, his brother my age, would accuse us of "being queer" with each other, I had no idea what that specifically meant, beyond being an insult implying strangeness. My chief familiarity with that word was from Robert Frost. And we didn't much try to hide what we were doing from the other boys by going off by ourselves somewhere, so we clearly thought of it more as "naughty" than "shameful." Neither of us understood the cause of the moisture that would dampen us after a while; we accused one another of urinating, as each of us knew that he hadn't. Again, I can't speak for him, but from my perspective we were just playing around in the dark, passing the time, and . . . and what? Indulging our curiosity? There was certainly no sense of attraction there (though, in hindsight, he was much better looking than I ever was), no sort of penetration, just mutual contact with each other and, for my part, no interpretation of our contact as being a form of sex, exactly - the idea of that wouldn't have appealed me, and not just because of the same-sex factor - so much as just something taboo. There was an air of the excitement of the forbidden.
Before the week was over, we kids would spend a sleepless plains night outside under that impossible canopy of stars, imploring the God whom I conceived of as being beyond them to please, somehow let my dad be okay. Mom had informed us of his mysterious, suddenly critical condition back home, which was taking us back from vacation sooner and faster than we'd planned. As we kids prayed together, I added a silent, desperate, hopeless intention that the wrong I'd been doing wouldn't be an obstacle to our prayers being heard, certain in my heart that it was. Dad had been his normal self when we left, but I knew his condition must be grave: why else would my aunt, uncle, cousins and grandparents be coming with us? (Did they all come the whole way? Or was it just dad's parents who flew home with us? I can't remember.) I didn't know then that our prayers had already been answered in the way that was probably best for a youngster living in the shadow of his dad's alcoholism. He was already dead, and mom was just waiting until we'd completed the trip back home - the four hour drive to Wichita, the flight(s?) from there to Baltimore; the return train ride she had planned was now out of the picture - to tell us. "Cerebral hemorrhage" was the intimidating medical term she served us to cut off our questions. It would be another couple years before she'd explain to me that his cranial bleeding was caused by the small, high-speed projectile of lead that he'd fired into his brain; it seems to me that she probably shared that some months before she informed me that he wasn't my biological father.
Maybe these two paragraphs, these two major events of my childhood, should never have gotten connected in my mind and in my gut. But I now realize that, because of their proximity in time and significance and location, they've always been linked in my unconscious mind, and probably inextricably so. I've examined different parts of this time in therapy, and have a far more mature theology, yet haven't managed to fully separate them. I wonder if it would have been better or worse for me if mom had been more open about dad's death when she told us he was critically sick? Would I have still felt as if his death was my fault, that my prayers weren't answered because of the gravity of my sin? If so, would I have perhaps attributed it more to his long-term disappointment over my shortcomings as a son and a (non-)athlete than to my perceived sins in the dark that week?
Oh, those are utterly useless questions. But the recent death of my dear uncle, his dad, who treated me with such compassion after my dad's death so long ago, has brought all of this to mind in a way I wasn't prepared for. I hope my cousin isn't as haunted by those nights as I am.
Before the week was over, we kids would spend a sleepless plains night outside under that impossible canopy of stars, imploring the God whom I conceived of as being beyond them to please, somehow let my dad be okay. Mom had informed us of his mysterious, suddenly critical condition back home, which was taking us back from vacation sooner and faster than we'd planned. As we kids prayed together, I added a silent, desperate, hopeless intention that the wrong I'd been doing wouldn't be an obstacle to our prayers being heard, certain in my heart that it was. Dad had been his normal self when we left, but I knew his condition must be grave: why else would my aunt, uncle, cousins and grandparents be coming with us? (Did they all come the whole way? Or was it just dad's parents who flew home with us? I can't remember.) I didn't know then that our prayers had already been answered in the way that was probably best for a youngster living in the shadow of his dad's alcoholism. He was already dead, and mom was just waiting until we'd completed the trip back home - the four hour drive to Wichita, the flight(s?) from there to Baltimore; the return train ride she had planned was now out of the picture - to tell us. "Cerebral hemorrhage" was the intimidating medical term she served us to cut off our questions. It would be another couple years before she'd explain to me that his cranial bleeding was caused by the small, high-speed projectile of lead that he'd fired into his brain; it seems to me that she probably shared that some months before she informed me that he wasn't my biological father.
Maybe these two paragraphs, these two major events of my childhood, should never have gotten connected in my mind and in my gut. But I now realize that, because of their proximity in time and significance and location, they've always been linked in my unconscious mind, and probably inextricably so. I've examined different parts of this time in therapy, and have a far more mature theology, yet haven't managed to fully separate them. I wonder if it would have been better or worse for me if mom had been more open about dad's death when she told us he was critically sick? Would I have still felt as if his death was my fault, that my prayers weren't answered because of the gravity of my sin? If so, would I have perhaps attributed it more to his long-term disappointment over my shortcomings as a son and a (non-)athlete than to my perceived sins in the dark that week?
Oh, those are utterly useless questions. But the recent death of my dear uncle, his dad, who treated me with such compassion after my dad's death so long ago, has brought all of this to mind in a way I wasn't prepared for. I hope my cousin isn't as haunted by those nights as I am.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The verdict is in
The angels were stunned, the stars hid their light, the universe went silent at the audacity of it, the wrongness of it, the outrageousness of it. The Judge of the guilty is himself judged guilty. Here now at last, in all the thick catalogue of human rebellion, is the lie so brazen as to surely bring down upon the heads of the insurrectionists a punishment swift and terrible. But no, the prisoner standing in the dock calmly responds, "For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
The judgment to which Fr. Neuhaus refers is not merely the judgment carried out upon Jesus of Nazareth. He spends a couple pages developing the idea of how we conclude that we are not to blame for the wrong in the world, and that therefor God is guilty, or nonexistent. But our audacious judgment meets its match in Jesus' willingness to accept it.
But how, we must ask, is God glorified by the humiliation and death of God? This great reversal of everything we think we know is too much to bear. Dark is light and light is dark, right is wrong and wrong is right and a lie is recruited to the service of the truth. The order of things is shattered. Precisely so, our disordered order is shattered so that things might be restored to order. - ibid.
I'm not sure we've ever been so insistent on our own idea of order, on the rightness of how we understand the world to be, on fairness as we insist it must be, on our right to determine for ourselves (and impose upon others) what is really right, as we find ourselves in this day. God will not insist on restoring order for us. As long as we insist that we know best, we will be allowed to continue in our disordered order. But if, gazing upon the injustice of Jesus on the cross, we quietly consider why a just God might have accepted it even though it was so exemplifyingly unfair, perhaps we get humble enough to reject the logic that screams how justice must be, and that any opposing voice - no matter how tender - is that of oppression, and must be silenced.
The judgment to which Fr. Neuhaus refers is not merely the judgment carried out upon Jesus of Nazareth. He spends a couple pages developing the idea of how we conclude that we are not to blame for the wrong in the world, and that therefor God is guilty, or nonexistent. But our audacious judgment meets its match in Jesus' willingness to accept it.
But how, we must ask, is God glorified by the humiliation and death of God? This great reversal of everything we think we know is too much to bear. Dark is light and light is dark, right is wrong and wrong is right and a lie is recruited to the service of the truth. The order of things is shattered. Precisely so, our disordered order is shattered so that things might be restored to order. - ibid.
I'm not sure we've ever been so insistent on our own idea of order, on the rightness of how we understand the world to be, on fairness as we insist it must be, on our right to determine for ourselves (and impose upon others) what is really right, as we find ourselves in this day. God will not insist on restoring order for us. As long as we insist that we know best, we will be allowed to continue in our disordered order. But if, gazing upon the injustice of Jesus on the cross, we quietly consider why a just God might have accepted it even though it was so exemplifyingly unfair, perhaps we get humble enough to reject the logic that screams how justice must be, and that any opposing voice - no matter how tender - is that of oppression, and must be silenced.
Behind
As a result of traveling by air over the weekend, I have about 4 pages marked in Death on a Friday Afternoon to come back to and write about. The last time I tried something like that I couldn't figure out what it was that I'd found so noteworthy. I sure hope I don't have that problem this time!
Who I am
It's really nice when an intimidating thing you discover (remember) about yourself underscores who you are rather than undermining it, especially when you've always avoided it for fear it would do the latter.
Monday, February 27, 2012
In all things, give thanks
If I believed the old adage that bad news comes in threes, I'd be breathing a sigh of relief. Three death notifications in two days: Uncle Dick, our friend Sandy's mom, and coworker Dave. But add in Mark's struggles in Bend, and little Arthur's, and Matt H. leaving, and I must remember that all of this is not mine to bear, but to pray.
Still need to write about the first of all these things. Don't know whether I can share it all, though, or even at all.
Despite it all, I must give thanks for the blessings I associate with each of these, as I lift up each person, each family, each concern.
Still need to write about the first of all these things. Don't know whether I can share it all, though, or even at all.
Despite it all, I must give thanks for the blessings I associate with each of these, as I lift up each person, each family, each concern.
Today's word
viva voce - by word of mouth : orally
Another phrase from Latin with an English pronunciation that doesn't match the Latin . I'm never going to be able to use the English pronunciation of this one, either, even though I've never studied Latin.
Another phrase from Latin with an English pronunciation that doesn't match the Latin . I'm never going to be able to use the English pronunciation of this one, either, even though I've never studied Latin.
Lesson learned
My dear uncle, at whose house I was when I learned again - and so fundamentally - that really bad things happen in your life when you commit really big sins (though he had nothing to do with that lesson), has passed away.
I need to write about all this, but today I need to try to focus on work.
sigh
I need to write about all this, but today I need to try to focus on work.
sigh
Friday, February 24, 2012
This Friday we call good
(continuing re: the Sacred Triduum): The second day is the Friday we so oddly call "good." And the third day, the great Vigil of Resurrection conquest. Do not rush to the conquest. Stay a while with this day. Let your heart be broken by the unspeakably bad of this Friday we call good. Some scholars speculate that "Good Friday" comes from "God's Friday," as "good-bye" was originally "God be by you." But it is just as odd that it should be called God's Friday, when it is the day we say good-bye to the glory of God. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
It seems that the more often I pick up this book, the less of it I can read before I want to write something in response to it!
Perhaps this quandary is as simple to understand as this: that there is no greater glory than to forsake one's own glory for the sole benefit of one's beloved. If so, and if there is also no glory greater than God's, then it is wholly appropriate that we consider this God's Friday, and appreciate that is good. Indeed, if these things are both true - and I can only suggest that perhaps the first is not, though it seems to resonate within me - then this Good Friday is the fulfillment in time of God's very nature. In fact, I get chills when I observe how the mysteries of Jesus' divinity and humanity and of the Trinity, with which I struggle in the giant footsteps of so many great saints of God, somehow lose their tension and take on an eternal moment of fleeting clarity as I consider this concept.
This infamous day is, of course, the antithesis of good in terms of what we did to Christ, but it is the essence of good from the viewpoint of what he did for us.
It seems that the more often I pick up this book, the less of it I can read before I want to write something in response to it!
Perhaps this quandary is as simple to understand as this: that there is no greater glory than to forsake one's own glory for the sole benefit of one's beloved. If so, and if there is also no glory greater than God's, then it is wholly appropriate that we consider this God's Friday, and appreciate that is good. Indeed, if these things are both true - and I can only suggest that perhaps the first is not, though it seems to resonate within me - then this Good Friday is the fulfillment in time of God's very nature. In fact, I get chills when I observe how the mysteries of Jesus' divinity and humanity and of the Trinity, with which I struggle in the giant footsteps of so many great saints of God, somehow lose their tension and take on an eternal moment of fleeting clarity as I consider this concept.
This infamous day is, of course, the antithesis of good in terms of what we did to Christ, but it is the essence of good from the viewpoint of what he did for us.
In the desert
No time to read or reflect this morning because of needing to be at work early. It leaves me feeling as if I've stumbled already in a small way on my Lenten journey. This is a good time for me to remember that it isn't about what I do, or making a perfect Lent. It isn't about earning my way to Easter joy by faithfully checking off every square along the way.
It is about making room, where it's up to me, for God's grace to be at work in more of my life.
It is about making room, where it's up to me, for God's grace to be at work in more of my life.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
As the Father has sent me, so I send you
Maundy Thursday is so called because that night, the night before he was betrayed, Jesus gave the command, the mandatum, that we should love one another. Not necessarily with the love of our desiring, but with a demanding love, even a demeaning love - as in washing the feet of faithless friends who will run away and leave you naked to your enemies. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
I was reflecting on this sort of love this weekend. It is the love we are called to share when there is no cause to hope for anything to be returned except sorrow and pain. We love this way because we are compelled by the love we have received, driven by a need to love in response to it, knowing that our beloved cannot become who they are to be unless we dare to love so fully.
If we are careful to receive the love we share from the One who loves us most, loving in this way may not leave us crushed in futile anguish.
I'm being melodramatic, of course, and not, at the same time. In our human shortcoming, it is very hard to keep from expecting something more in return, from being hurt when we are rejected or misunderstood or ignored. Over the years and decades, it is hard to keep from hardening ourselves against the pain we learn awaits us in loving thus.
Sincerity in advertising?
The Honey Bunches of Oats banner ad put it more brazenly than most advertisements do:
At least they're being honest about what they're trying to sell. Isn't every advertiser ultimately trying to sell us happiness? The idea of encountering it in a bowl of cereal is simply more obviously preposterous than finding it in a large-screen television, a shiny new car, or chemically-enhanced sexual intimacy.
Maybe we should all just pour ourselves a big ol' bowl and dig in.
HAVE A BOWL OF HAPPY
At least they're being honest about what they're trying to sell. Isn't every advertiser ultimately trying to sell us happiness? The idea of encountering it in a bowl of cereal is simply more obviously preposterous than finding it in a large-screen television, a shiny new car, or chemically-enhanced sexual intimacy.
Maybe we should all just pour ourselves a big ol' bowl and dig in.
Holy days
Christians call them the Triduum Sacrum, the three most sacred days of the year, the three most sacred days of all time when time is truly told. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
How odd that Fr. Neuhaus should introduce this term immediately on the heels of the concept of timeless eternity at the foot of the cross. If the Triduum represents the holiest days of the year, and if all time is present at the foot of the cross, then each day should be rooted in the sacrificial love which Jesus fulfilled by his Passion.
Good Friday cannot make its difference on one day of our lives without leaving its imprint on all the others.
(I'm not disagreeing with Fr. Neuhaus, btw. Just reflecting. Entering into the mystery.)
How odd that Fr. Neuhaus should introduce this term immediately on the heels of the concept of timeless eternity at the foot of the cross. If the Triduum represents the holiest days of the year, and if all time is present at the foot of the cross, then each day should be rooted in the sacrificial love which Jesus fulfilled by his Passion.
Good Friday cannot make its difference on one day of our lives without leaving its imprint on all the others.
(I'm not disagreeing with Fr. Neuhaus, btw. Just reflecting. Entering into the mystery.)
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
This mystery is the apotheosis of relevance
(H)ow can it really make any difference in the real world today that a good man died a horrible death two thousand years ago? What does it have to do with the lives we have to live and the deaths we have to die? - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
I have a friend who greatly respects my Church for her role in civilization through the centuries. He appreciates that there are many good things in the world, and many ideas of what sort of attitudes it takes to make it better, that wouldn't exist if it weren't for her living in the world as she has felt called to do. Yet he struggles with connecting her actions to the existence of the God who inspires them, and particularly to the Person whom she proclaims Jesus of Nazareth to be. I'm sure he would agree that Jesus' death on a cross in a foreign land a couple of millennia ago has made an incredible difference in the world. At a minimum, he would acknowledge that what we believe about that event and the aftermath that provides for us its context has had an immeasurably positive impact on the quality of life of countless people. Unlike the staunch atheists of our day, who focus on the Church's many shortcomings and the mistakes that have arisen from our humanity - of which he is also aware - he sees the incalculable good that she has accomplished, and longs to be part of it.
Yet in his integrity, he recognizes that his inability to believe what we do about Jesus Christ is an impediment that must be resolved. I am praying that it will be, for him, and that he can come to believe in a God who has worked in ways wondrous and mysterious, the miraculous ways being all the more so because of their rarity.
(Wow, didn't expect that to go in that direction. Thought #2:)
Fr. Neuhaus was a painstaking communicator who rarely wasted his words. Though he could and did speak at length appropriate to opportunity, each word and phrase, even each repetition, conveyed specific meaning. I noticed this on the occasion I heard him address a men's conference of several thousand, and I see it over and over again in his writing. And what catches my eye at this moment is the repeated phrase "have to." This sentence would have made perfect sense without either of these instances.
In one sense, we don't "have to" live the lives we do. We have many choices available to us that would take us down a different pathway from the one we seem to be on. Yet even if we don't have to live a particular fixed set of circumstances, many are forced upon us beyond our control, and the choices we make affect many others. In the end, we "have to" live our lives, and even if we were to choose to live no longer, we will still have "had to" live the life we've lived. Oh, this is so tricky to convey. There are certainly aspects of our lives with which we are stuck, even if it is true that we have chosen many of them. So what has Good Friday to do with the life I have to live?
Over the next six weeks, I will be focusing each Friday on The Way of the Cross, as prayed with Jubilee. This service gets those of us who enter into it in touch with the Good Friday events in fresh, moving, and inspiring way, a way that breathes fresh life and perspective into us. Somehow, how Jesus "had to" live that last day puts a perspective on how I "have to" live each day. On days when I don't consider it, I don't live as well this life I have to live.
Too, it is inevitable that I will have to die. I've come to the conclusion that the dying that I will have to do at the end of my life will be way more tolerable if I've managed to die bit by incremental bit in living the life I have to live.
And I find another meaning to the word "have" in that repeated phrase, rather than the sense of obligation, that of belonging to. I have one life that it belongs to me to live, which can take many different directions along the way, and one death that belongs to me to die. Living and dying them in the context of Good Friday, which teaches both how to live and how to die, makes all the difference for me and, I pray, for those around me.
I haven't really gotten to any answers amid my many words, so:
These pages are an exploration into mystery. The word "mystery" in this context doesn't mean a puzzle, as in a murder mystery. It is not a thing to be solved, but an adventure into wonder, with each wonder that we encounter leading on to the next and greater wonder. - ibid.
So my ramblings over these weeks of Lent will be for me. It falls to each of us to enter into the mystery of Jesus Christ for ourselves.
Over the next six weeks, I will be focusing each Friday on The Way of the Cross, as prayed with Jubilee. This service gets those of us who enter into it in touch with the Good Friday events in fresh, moving, and inspiring way, a way that breathes fresh life and perspective into us. Somehow, how Jesus "had to" live that last day puts a perspective on how I "have to" live each day. On days when I don't consider it, I don't live as well this life I have to live.
Too, it is inevitable that I will have to die. I've come to the conclusion that the dying that I will have to do at the end of my life will be way more tolerable if I've managed to die bit by incremental bit in living the life I have to live.
And I find another meaning to the word "have" in that repeated phrase, rather than the sense of obligation, that of belonging to. I have one life that it belongs to me to live, which can take many different directions along the way, and one death that belongs to me to die. Living and dying them in the context of Good Friday, which teaches both how to live and how to die, makes all the difference for me and, I pray, for those around me.
I haven't really gotten to any answers amid my many words, so:
These pages are an exploration into mystery. The word "mystery" in this context doesn't mean a puzzle, as in a murder mystery. It is not a thing to be solved, but an adventure into wonder, with each wonder that we encounter leading on to the next and greater wonder. - ibid.
So my ramblings over these weeks of Lent will be for me. It falls to each of us to enter into the mystery of Jesus Christ for ourselves.
Today's word
I usually only put words here that are new to my vocabulary, but today's was so appropriate for the day - doubtless specifically chosen because of it - that I just had to list it even though I knew it already:
abjure - 1a. to renounce upon oath. b. to reject solemnly. 2. to abstain from : avoid
abjure - 1a. to renounce upon oath. b. to reject solemnly. 2. to abstain from : avoid
Into the desert
Good Friday is not just one day of the year. It is a day relived every day of the world, and of our lives in the world. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
Here I go, entering the season of Lent, to discover that I am already here. And here I go starting this book again, certain that I'll have a hard time finding new things to write about, to discover that its very first two sentences reach me right where I have been living. Perhaps I'll end up repeating things I've written about it in the past, but if so it will only be because I need to rediscover them.
I don't expect to find revelations within its pages this time, but perhaps insight into myself in response to it. I don't expect to find a way to avoid my own (small) daily crucifixion, but encouragement to embrace it.
Here I go, entering the season of Lent, to discover that I am already here. And here I go starting this book again, certain that I'll have a hard time finding new things to write about, to discover that its very first two sentences reach me right where I have been living. Perhaps I'll end up repeating things I've written about it in the past, but if so it will only be because I need to rediscover them.
I don't expect to find revelations within its pages this time, but perhaps insight into myself in response to it. I don't expect to find a way to avoid my own (small) daily crucifixion, but encouragement to embrace it.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Mardi Gras 2012
What a nice evening. Shrove Tuesday at church, with the oldest three grandsons. It was nice seeing so many people we knew there, introducing Sara and Greg to a some of them. I never tire of sharing how we knew her parents in Biloxi - when she was so young - and how we got reconnected. Then just hung out with the wife and daughter, watching shows together that we all enjoy.
Now begins the fast.
Now begins the fast.
Focusing on what's useful
I clicked a link to a list of 12 ways to live a better life, that The Washington Post lifted from 30 Lessons for Living - Tried and True Advice from the Wisest Americans, by Karl Pillemer. I guess he collected the best insights he gleaned from over 1000 senior citizens and summarized them into this book. The first one stopped me dead in my tracks and focused my attention in a useless direction for a few minutes.
But in my last round of therapy I learned that we tend to evaluate our happiness based on things that are beyond our control rather than on the drivers of our happiness that we can influence. I've learned not to dwell on what I can't change. I'm doing okay on the rest of the list, and I'm doing the best I can to make the best of this one item, too.
But in my last round of therapy I learned that we tend to evaluate our happiness based on things that are beyond our control rather than on the drivers of our happiness that we can influence. I've learned not to dwell on what I can't change. I'm doing okay on the rest of the list, and I'm doing the best I can to make the best of this one item, too.
Distracting typo
It was probably just a typo when a sports writer used "nevermore" where he meant "never more." They don't mean the same thing, and are not interchangeable. "Nevermore than now" means "never again than now" - which doesn't make sense - not "never more than is the case at the present time."
A completely pointless snippet
There's a whole in my head where the rain comes in
You took my body and played to win - Electric Light Orchestra
The brain is a scary thing. This song from my high school days just floated through my head!
(Of course, there isn't much in there to interfere with its free passage . . . )
This album contained a cool instrumental that became the NBA on CBS theme music for a time. That song, Fire on High, contained a backward message near the beginning. I wasn't aware until today that Evil Woman (quoted above) contained a back-masked string part from another song on the album.
You took my body and played to win - Electric Light Orchestra
The brain is a scary thing. This song from my high school days just floated through my head!
(Of course, there isn't much in there to interfere with its free passage . . . )
This album contained a cool instrumental that became the NBA on CBS theme music for a time. That song, Fire on High, contained a backward message near the beginning. I wasn't aware until today that Evil Woman (quoted above) contained a back-masked string part from another song on the album.
Song snippet
Man I swear that these are long nights. - Crack the Sky
Completely out of context. Apropos of nothing? I have nothing to complain about, really. This is just the ennui of middle age - right? of the empty nest? - that countless have dealt with before. I mean, if we must each live our own vision, then let's be about it.
Completely out of context. Apropos of nothing? I have nothing to complain about, really. This is just the ennui of middle age - right? of the empty nest? - that countless have dealt with before. I mean, if we must each live our own vision, then let's be about it.
Monday, February 20, 2012
So much for a quiet night together
The Bachelor. Ugh.
I'm going to take out the trash, and write a dialogue letter, and go to bed.
I'm going to take out the trash, and write a dialogue letter, and go to bed.
Even if I was in a bad mood - and I was, a little - I was just trying to hear the movie. Yes, to me, there is a difference between watching a movie together and watching a TV show.
And yes, it upset me when you implied I was being unreasonable in asking the two of you not to talk during the movie. And when you got caught dismissing my concerns because I was "in a mood," it upset me that you further dismissed my right to be upset about it, by texting your complaint to the wrong phone. If you'd rather not spend time with me when I'm "in a mood," then don't. And yes, when you texted me that you were sorry, and I called you back, and you were still clearly mad at me, that upset me, too. And the next night, when we tried to discuss it and you immediately shifted the discussion to what you thought I did wrong to cause the whole thing in the first place, that just pissed me off.
And yes, it upset me when you implied I was being unreasonable in asking the two of you not to talk during the movie. And when you got caught dismissing my concerns because I was "in a mood," it upset me that you further dismissed my right to be upset about it, by texting your complaint to the wrong phone. If you'd rather not spend time with me when I'm "in a mood," then don't. And yes, when you texted me that you were sorry, and I called you back, and you were still clearly mad at me, that upset me, too. And the next night, when we tried to discuss it and you immediately shifted the discussion to what you thought I did wrong to cause the whole thing in the first place, that just pissed me off.
Saying goodbye
A coworker stopped by my cube on his way out the door a little while ago. I've known him as long as I've been here.
It turns out that the 16% number that has been thrown around was organization-wide. But some parts of the organization can't lose much of anyone, so our department is losing 33%.
I know I am fortunate to still have a job, but this still sucks. Lord, bless my coworkers who need you to provide for their needs. And bless those of us who have to make the new, leaner organization work, somehow.
It turns out that the 16% number that has been thrown around was organization-wide. But some parts of the organization can't lose much of anyone, so our department is losing 33%.
I know I am fortunate to still have a job, but this still sucks. Lord, bless my coworkers who need you to provide for their needs. And bless those of us who have to make the new, leaner organization work, somehow.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Alternative to skepticism
So, rather than proclaiming or lamenting what I have been unable to believe, it is better to simply pray, "Lord, increase my faith." The former can be a form of spiritual curse, and inhibitor of God's work in my life. The latter is a sincere prayer, not for naivete, but for the gift of believing only in the authentic things of God.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
E5 man?
Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the church and handed himself over for her to sanctify her, cleansing her by the bath of water with the word, that he might present to himself the church in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. So (also) husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one hates his own flesh but rather nourishes and cherishes it, even as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body. "For this reason a man shall leave (his) father and (his) mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh." This is a great mystery, but I speak in reference to Christ and the church. In any case, each one of you should love his wife as himself. - Eph 5, 25-33a
I know what this scripture means. It means that I am to love my bride as Christ loves me, and here's how that was: knowing in advance how he would be condemned for our sake, fully seeing how he would suffer on our behalf, Jesus still chose to leave the throne of grace to be rejected by us. He loved us so much that he embraced the opportunity to be hurt by us, so that he might win us over by his love, even though we killed him. He never turned away from us; even when scorned and rejected throughout his life, even when mocked and beaten and scourged and nails driven through his flesh and crucified to death, he embraced us in love.
I must continue to love even when - no matter how - the one I love hurts me.
I know what this scripture means. It means that I am to love my bride as Christ loves me, and here's how that was: knowing in advance how he would be condemned for our sake, fully seeing how he would suffer on our behalf, Jesus still chose to leave the throne of grace to be rejected by us. He loved us so much that he embraced the opportunity to be hurt by us, so that he might win us over by his love, even though we killed him. He never turned away from us; even when scorned and rejected throughout his life, even when mocked and beaten and scourged and nails driven through his flesh and crucified to death, he embraced us in love.
I must continue to love even when - no matter how - the one I love hurts me.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Settling
A letter writer to an advice column that I read regularly (with a careful filter) was agonizing over a boyfriend vs. crush dilemma. She felt she might be settling for the former and cheating herself out of a more fulfilling relationship with the latter, partly out of a fear that she might end up an unloved old maid (my words, not hers, but not a stretch by any means).
The columnist's put was that, just as she wouldn't want to spend her whole life as someone whom her partner simply settled for, always wondering whether he should have chosen someone else instead of her, likewise she should grant him the respect of not living their lives with him in that role.
There is a world full of wrong reasons for which people end up together, and a lot of questions that someone in the midst of making that sort of decision might need to consider:
The columnist's put was that, just as she wouldn't want to spend her whole life as someone whom her partner simply settled for, always wondering whether he should have chosen someone else instead of her, likewise she should grant him the respect of not living their lives with him in that role.
There is a world full of wrong reasons for which people end up together, and a lot of questions that someone in the midst of making that sort of decision might need to consider:
- can I break this mental trap of feeling as if I'm settling for a relationship with you?
- how long should we try to make the best of this relationship, to see how it develops?
- is there a point at which I owe it to you to let you move on and find someone who can love you without looking back over their shoulder?
- how can I best kill off the nagging voice of dissatisfaction?
- how do I go about dying to my selfishness and loving you with all I have?
- how can we help each other become the best versions of ourselves?
A return to practical forgiveness
I encountered two things this morning, one good for me, and one probably not. I'll focus on the good one for now, and reflect as appropriate - perhaps not at all - on the potentially harmful one later.
A radio preacher was addressing the issue of resentment, and how holding onto it can poison us over time. Interestingly for a sola scriptura guy, he observed that the word doesn't appear in the Bible, but he acknowledged a few places where the concept can be found. Also interesting was the Greek word that is used for the closest thing to the idea, and where else it appears.
I wish I could remember the actual word, but its meaning is basically related to keeping a record of something in a ledger. This makes sense, as does the other places this word is used, which apply to God not keeping a record of our sins, for instance. The word has been translated in several of these places as "impute," which has very different implications to me from the actual sense I get of this word.
It can be very difficult for us to not keep a record of hurt done to us. The essence of forgiveness is the decision, made over and over again as needed, to let it go.
A radio preacher was addressing the issue of resentment, and how holding onto it can poison us over time. Interestingly for a sola scriptura guy, he observed that the word doesn't appear in the Bible, but he acknowledged a few places where the concept can be found. Also interesting was the Greek word that is used for the closest thing to the idea, and where else it appears.
I wish I could remember the actual word, but its meaning is basically related to keeping a record of something in a ledger. This makes sense, as does the other places this word is used, which apply to God not keeping a record of our sins, for instance. The word has been translated in several of these places as "impute," which has very different implications to me from the actual sense I get of this word.
It can be very difficult for us to not keep a record of hurt done to us. The essence of forgiveness is the decision, made over and over again as needed, to let it go.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Unexpected ongoing source of frustration
11 new pieces of music for Lent, Easter, and beyond.
0 for guitar.
The same was true of the new Advent and Christmas music.
I shouldn't let this bother me so much.
Oh, but there's a cool! new! four-hands! version of Wade in the Water! Isn't that exciting!?!
0 for guitar.
The same was true of the new Advent and Christmas music.
I shouldn't let this bother me so much.
Oh, but there's a cool! new! four-hands! version of Wade in the Water! Isn't that exciting!?!
Zero information statement
I hope I never hear the phrase, "It is what it is," so often that I start using it myself out of sheer familiarity. I know that it has become shorthand for, "This is a situation that we can't do anything about, so we're just going to have to accept it," but every time I hear it I think about Robert DeNiro in The Deer Hunter: "This is this!" Both are like saying, "1 = 1".
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Today's word
abnegate - 1. deny, renounce. 2. surrender, relinquish
I think this may have been in my vocabulary before, but I might be thinking of abdicate.
I think this may have been in my vocabulary before, but I might be thinking of abdicate.
Blind spot mirror
In a social psychology class when I was a 19-year-old psych major, I learned of a very common form of bias we apply to our attributions: most of us tend to assume that others are like us. If we know what we'd be feeling, thinking, or doing in a given situation, we generally think that others would tend to feel, think, or act in the same way. When someone does something we don't understand, we tend to analyze their actions against our own tendencies. As a result, for example, honest people with a pure heart tend to naively trust others' motives; those who are are more nefarious are often wary of others.
This seems like an important thing for me to be aware of. Others in my life probably aren't thinking as I think, struggling with the things I struggle with, prone to the mistakes I've made. Oh, they have their own issues; they're just different from mine!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The perils of multitasking
One of the wonderful things about modern computers is the ability to have the processor(s) working on multiple things at once, so that as each task is executing I can be preparing another one to run on another piece of work. That is, it's wonderful until one of the programs locks up, and the things I was working on were interrelated, and none of them can be completed without the piece that was being crunched before the lock up. Sigh.
It will be okay, though. This is but a tiny setback.
It will be okay, though. This is but a tiny setback.
Today's word
Especially chosen for the day, I suppose:
aubade (oh-BAHD) - 1. a song or poem greeting the dawn.. 2a. a morning love song. b. a song or poem of lovers parting at dawn. 3. morning music.
aubade (oh-BAHD) - 1. a song or poem greeting the dawn.. 2a. a morning love song. b. a song or poem of lovers parting at dawn. 3. morning music.
Monday, February 13, 2012
I more than hope he's wrong
"Eventually, everyone becomes who they always were." - Chuck Klosterman, opining on the new Van Halen album
Perspective
I find today that I'm reminding myself of the truth I know. It helps me make good decisions, keeps my perspective in the right place, and immediately reduces the tension that I get so wrapped around when I fail to remember what is true.
Having started the morning with a nice, quiet prayer time seems to have facilitated that.
Both things make me feel more peaceful.
Having started the morning with a nice, quiet prayer time seems to have facilitated that.
Both things make me feel more peaceful.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Today's word
vade mecum - 1. a book for ready reference : manual 2. something regularly carried about by a person
If I ever encounter this word again, there is no way I'm ever going to remember to use the anglicized pronunciation. My brain is going to insist on seeing and pronouncing this as Latin.
If I ever encounter this word again, there is no way I'm ever going to remember to use the anglicized pronunciation. My brain is going to insist on seeing and pronouncing this as Latin.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
I must spend time in His presence
Even when I feel angry.
Even when I'm overwhelmed.
Even when I'm overjoyed.
Even when I'm barely hanging on.
Even when I'm hurting.
Even when I'm tempted.
Even when I'm afraid.
Even when I'm so busy.
Even when I feel alone.
Even when my heart is breaking.
I could go on for a while with that. The thing is, that thing that is missing from our hearts and lives? The thing we're waiting for some event or set of circumstances to resolve for us? It's really God. Maybe he's made his presence known in other ways before, but we will shut him out now if we insist on receiving him only as we have before, or on insisting we cannot receive him in the midst of our current circumstances.
I must come to the quiet.
Even when I'm overwhelmed.
Even when I'm overjoyed.
Even when I'm barely hanging on.
Even when I'm hurting.
Even when I'm tempted.
Even when I'm afraid.
Even when I'm so busy.
Even when I feel alone.
Even when my heart is breaking.
I could go on for a while with that. The thing is, that thing that is missing from our hearts and lives? The thing we're waiting for some event or set of circumstances to resolve for us? It's really God. Maybe he's made his presence known in other ways before, but we will shut him out now if we insist on receiving him only as we have before, or on insisting we cannot receive him in the midst of our current circumstances.
I must come to the quiet.
Friday, February 10, 2012
The vampire
Even when they're programs that I enjoy, watching this much feels like it just sucks the life out of me.
I have a headache
and an errand to run. But it should be a nice weekend, and I believe I'll get it started now.
Sure hope I'm not in the 16%.
Sure hope I'm not in the 16%.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
In a good place
Sometimes it's good to take stock. Am I keeping things in perspective and in balance? Am I making good decisions, that are likely to keep me where I need to be and help me grow in the right direction?
I'm really pleased when the answer comes back "yes." Is it perfectly so? Well, no. But overall, I'm doing pretty well, especially considering I've been sick.
That isn't the same thing as checking in with myself about how I'm feeling, which is also important. I can feel dissatisfied with certain aspects of my life, and still feel good about my perspective on them.
I'm really pleased when the answer comes back "yes." Is it perfectly so? Well, no. But overall, I'm doing pretty well, especially considering I've been sick.
That isn't the same thing as checking in with myself about how I'm feeling, which is also important. I can feel dissatisfied with certain aspects of my life, and still feel good about my perspective on them.
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Conflicting needs, before, during, and after
Before (Monday night):
Granted: I could have chosen to forgo the final Jubilee Way of the Cross at the base, despite having missed the service there last year because of being in Louisiana and despite the many people we know and love there. After all, if being at your sister and brother-in-law's 40th anniversary were "more important" to me, I would have just done that instead of trying to find some way to do both things, right? I have, however made a commitment, and my absence might disrupt the program drastically, as I don't know whether Bill is available.
I also understand that the solution I came up with wasn't a pleasant one; traveling over Friday night, taking turns sleeping along the way, then returning on Sunday would definitely not have been easy (even Monday could have been an option, really, in spite of our work schedules), and I understand why you'd prefer not to do it..
But by booking your flight, you've slammed the door on any practical chance of my going with you. The gas money is now spent on your ticket, even if I could manage that Friday night drive alone. And please don't twist my acknowledgement that it was your right to do so into agreement with your plan. I think I was pretty clear that I wasn't going to be happy about this.
The thing is, it meant so much to me to be there that I was desperately trying to find some way of accommodating my conflicting need to be both places. I'm really hurting over how your decision excludes me. I know that wasn't the motivation for your decision, but it is its end result.
As I've said before, I always try to make sure you can do what is important to you. This was important to me, and I feel like you've just blown me off.
During (Tuesday afternoon):
I really appreciate the effort you're making to help us figure out how I might join you. I'm not sure what happened to help you realize how important this is to me, but I was really hurting over how things went down last night, even after I expressed my wish to find a way to be there. Even if things don't work out at this point - either we decide not to spend the extra money on my airfare (and the rental car I think we'll need), or just aren't able to lock in the fare you found - at least I don't feel like you were just being dismissive of my wish to be with you to celebrate with Lynne and Allan.
After (Tuesday night):
Well, I'm really glad to be going. But I can't figure out how to convey how hurt I am by how this whole thing went down, and that my wishes didn't really matter enough to motivate you to seek a solution. It seems as if you were content with just leaving me out of things, rather than helping to find a solution that would meet my needs, too.
I'm really glad that your sister felt otherwise, and that her opinion mattered enough to you to take action on, and especially that I'm going.
Still, neither my going nor my loving you keeps me from being concerned about how we eventually arrived at this resolution.
Granted: I could have chosen to forgo the final Jubilee Way of the Cross at the base, despite having missed the service there last year because of being in Louisiana and despite the many people we know and love there. After all, if being at your sister and brother-in-law's 40th anniversary were "more important" to me, I would have just done that instead of trying to find some way to do both things, right? I have, however made a commitment, and my absence might disrupt the program drastically, as I don't know whether Bill is available.
I also understand that the solution I came up with wasn't a pleasant one; traveling over Friday night, taking turns sleeping along the way, then returning on Sunday would definitely not have been easy (even Monday could have been an option, really, in spite of our work schedules), and I understand why you'd prefer not to do it..
But by booking your flight, you've slammed the door on any practical chance of my going with you. The gas money is now spent on your ticket, even if I could manage that Friday night drive alone. And please don't twist my acknowledgement that it was your right to do so into agreement with your plan. I think I was pretty clear that I wasn't going to be happy about this.
The thing is, it meant so much to me to be there that I was desperately trying to find some way of accommodating my conflicting need to be both places. I'm really hurting over how your decision excludes me. I know that wasn't the motivation for your decision, but it is its end result.
As I've said before, I always try to make sure you can do what is important to you. This was important to me, and I feel like you've just blown me off.
During (Tuesday afternoon):
I really appreciate the effort you're making to help us figure out how I might join you. I'm not sure what happened to help you realize how important this is to me, but I was really hurting over how things went down last night, even after I expressed my wish to find a way to be there. Even if things don't work out at this point - either we decide not to spend the extra money on my airfare (and the rental car I think we'll need), or just aren't able to lock in the fare you found - at least I don't feel like you were just being dismissive of my wish to be with you to celebrate with Lynne and Allan.
After (Tuesday night):
Well, I'm really glad to be going. But I can't figure out how to convey how hurt I am by how this whole thing went down, and that my wishes didn't really matter enough to motivate you to seek a solution. It seems as if you were content with just leaving me out of things, rather than helping to find a solution that would meet my needs, too.
I'm really glad that your sister felt otherwise, and that her opinion mattered enough to you to take action on, and especially that I'm going.
Still, neither my going nor my loving you keeps me from being concerned about how we eventually arrived at this resolution.
Today's word
cacography - 1. bad spelling 2. bad handwriting
Usually now refers to poor adherence to established standards , whereas it formerly referred more to a poor system of spelling. In its presently-accepted definition, cacography seems pandemic these days.
Usually now refers to poor adherence to established standards , whereas it formerly referred more to a poor system of spelling. In its presently-accepted definition, cacography seems pandemic these days.
Monday, February 06, 2012
Today's words
propinquity - 1. nearness of blood : kinship. 2. nearness in place or time : proximity
lymphatic - 2. lacking physical or mental energy : sluggish
I didn't bother including the primary definition for lymphatic.
Saturday, February 04, 2012
The air I breathe
Even in the midst of difficulty and frustration - indeed, especially so - the gift of praise is the breath of life. Without it, we (I) suffocate.
Friday, February 03, 2012
Today's words
I take a week of vacation, and suddenly the word of the day becomes interesting - though I missed one of these from before I left:
gam - 1. to have a visit or friendly conversation with. 2. to spend or pass (as time) talking
stiction - the force required to cause one body in contact with another to begin to move
graupel - granular snow
Cook's tour - a rapid or cursory survey or review
arbalest - a crossbow especially of medieval times
gam - 1. to have a visit or friendly conversation with. 2. to spend or pass (as time) talking
stiction - the force required to cause one body in contact with another to begin to move
graupel - granular snow
Cook's tour - a rapid or cursory survey or review
arbalest - a crossbow especially of medieval times
I previously knew the phrase Cook's tour, but had forgotten the meaning. I knew what graupel is, but didn't know there was a name for it. And I'd never heard of anyone else referring to static friction as stiction; I thought I'd made it up and never voiced it.
Time passages
This year will mark the following anniversaries of the deaths of my childhood immediate family members.
Karen - 24 years
Dad - 38 years
None of these seem possible, but mom's seems the most unlikely. Her funeral feels like last year, not a decade ago.
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Things I know
Dear God,
I know I'm probably being stubborn about how I'm handling this. I know there's nothing new here that others haven't been finding ways to deal with for ages.
I also know it's killing me. I know, killing me is what it's supposed to be about. Sometimes, I just wish you'd finish the process.
I know: you know best, and you love me. Even though I know I don't feel like it from my heart sometimes: thanks.
I know I'm probably being stubborn about how I'm handling this. I know there's nothing new here that others haven't been finding ways to deal with for ages.
I also know it's killing me. I know, killing me is what it's supposed to be about. Sometimes, I just wish you'd finish the process.
I know: you know best, and you love me. Even though I know I don't feel like it from my heart sometimes: thanks.
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