Coment Moderation Has (Alas) Finally Been Enabled

Because a few isolated individuals (not regulars at this blog) have abused the privilege to comment here, I have regrettably decided to enable comment moderation. I will post guidelines for commenting here later tonight or in the morning. In the meantime, rest assured that in the 2 1/2 or so years this blog has been up, and over the course of now over 400 posts, I can still, despite the comments that have been bounced since I started posting on Jeremiah Wright, count the number of comments I've censored on my two hands. Don't need to go to toes just yet.

So, by and large, any comment left here will be posted. But there is no such thing as an inalienable right to post on someone else's blog, and I reserve the right to post or not post comments at my discretion.

I'll post in more detail on this later, but in the meantime, if you're new here, or in need of a refresher, see this.

Quote On Christianity and "Empire," Plus Reflections

Sorry I've been mostly AWOL of late, breaking my blogging fast only on occasion, merely to post Obama video clips.

I've been reworking some of my theological and academic projects, and such work can't be broken down in a nice and neat way for this blog. This blog started as a response to my own (accidental) participation in the "culture wars," and the content here has reflected that. While I grew up an evangelical Christian, I also grew up a liberal Democrat, and that created and interesting dichotomy from which to write. Additionally, my brief experiences as a pastor, and especially the abuse I took from a congregation that led to my resignation from ministry (and nearly, for a time, to the dissolution of my marriage) motivated me to write out my peculiar theological take on hot-button social issues.

While I have yet another post on abortion and scripture (an exegesis of Exodus 21:12-27, focusing on verse 22) outlined and ready to go, I can't bring myself to write it, much less post it. Why? Frankly, I'm tired of that conversation. It isn't getting us anywhere.

Many of the conversations that have happened here over the years have been the same way. Though I've loved them, at their best they serve merely to provide some relatively safe arena in which those on the left and the right rehearse their best arguments. There's a place for that, no doubt. That place may even be here. But I simply haven't been able to get up for those conversations lately.

Neither have I been able to get up for conversations concerning the role and authority of scripture, or principles of Biblical interpretation. And while I still hold that religious language is principally metaphorical, and that faith is a condition of radical dependency and a commitment to a comprehensive way of life rather that the ability to articulate intellectual agreement with speculative propositions, there really are only so many blog posts I can squeeze out of that.

Meanwhile, I've been cruising toward graduation wondering what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Least importantly, but most pertinent to this conversation, I've been wondering how I'm going to spend my academic life. One of my advisers tells me that at some point I'm simply going to have to drop anchor somewhere. But where? That question, far more than any of the artificially hot-button social issues that comprise the so-called "culture wars" that I've been fighting in and commenting on, has been burning in my brain.

To wit, I've been working on two separate thesis ideas, with one question navigating the treacherous waters between them: Am a philosophic theologian, or a theological ethicist? Of course, both of those rest on contrived distinctions created in an academic climate that favors specialism to the detriment, I would argue, of authentic theology (that is, theology that refuses to be sequestered into its own little corner of the academy). But, in the meantime, my friend who counseled me to "drop anchor" is right. I probably can't learn everything about anything, but I certainly can't learn everything about everything.

So I'm trying to choose between an overtly philosophic thesis that uses, among others, William James, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and Alfred North Whitehead to speak to the relationship between religion and science, and an overtly ethical thesis that explores the history of Christian reflection on violence, especially revolutionary violence.

That overtly ethical thesis idea, you might guess, started with a post here on James Cone's defense of revolutionary violence. But as I study more, I'm beginning to notice that the way I've laid out the topic for myself, narrowly looking at Christian tools for resisting oppression and empire (which go hand in hand) especially concerning the moral permissibility of violence is flawed in two related ways: First, it is too limited, and second, it fails to understand the nuanced nature of empire and oppressive power differentials. Consider this quote (which made me jump up and down, and then run to the computer to break my unintentional blogging fast) by Joerg Rieger, from his essay "Christian Theology and Empires" from the book that he helped edit, Empire and the Christian Tradition: New Readings of Classical Theologians:

The fact that despite widespread initial support among the population some churches and bishops in the United States opposed this war [that is, the US invasion of Iraq - CB] might be seen as a sign that the empire can never completely control Christianity.

Yet this rejection of war is not enough because the methods of empire have changed dramatically. War is not the only problem and perhaps not even the primary one; war has not been particularly effective in recent history and many of its supporters have become disillusioned. The deeper problem has to do with more covert expressions of economic and cultural power which drive broad processes of globalization.

So what?

Broadly, this means that violence isn't the whole picture, and perhaps isn't even the biggest part of the picture. Violence is only one of many forms that coercive power manifests, and isn't always particularly effective. And any Christian ethic of resistance has to be concerned with much more than just the ethics of violence- whether it be criticizing oppression as a form of violence or reflecting on the moral permissibility of the oppressed responding violently to the violent oppression.

My task then, if I choose the theological ethics route, is to reflect on what tools Christian theological reflection has for responding to the complex phenomena of empire, oppression, and power differentials. The biggest tool, however, that I think Christian theological reflection (or any theological reflection - this claim is by no means limited to Christianity) has to offer is this: a prophetic refusal to allow the broad spectrum of human goods to be reduced purely to economics.

More on that later, as that is a rich sentence that needs to be unpacked.

Sandalstraps Cinema

As the semester winds down (and the workload winds up) I've been day dreaming about what I'm going to do with all my soon-to-be-rediscovered free time. And, since doing something worthwhile has long been ruled out, I think I might spend more of my time blogging. At least until something more pressing (like J-term classes followed by the Spring semester) pops up.

But, if I do resume more regular blogging, what, o what should I blog about?

This morning I blew the time I should have been working on the two papers I have due this week finally watching a movie that I simply loved, but don't have time to comment in depth on yet: V for Vendetta, the Wachowwski brothers' worthy follow-up to the Matrix trilogy (first take: better than the second and third Matrix films, not quite as good as the first). Strangely enough, that film explores many of the same issues as my emerging idea for my Masters thesis (or am I just seeing a thesis topic in everything?), but more on that when I take the time to blog for real.

In the meantime, I've decided that until I change my mind (which could well be before any actual posts) I'm going to do more in depth looks at the theological, philosophical, and ethical content in movies, much like I did in these posts, two of my all-time favorites to write:

Contact

RENT

Or, for less depth, consider these:

Ever Since the World Ended (juxtaposing the film Donnie Darko with a Mose Alison song)

An Unnatural Evil (a look at Augustine's theodicy of natural evil after watching An Inconvenient Truth, but I swear, its not that heavy)

Bobby (paging Mr. Obama and Mr. Edwards)

A Day in the Life of a Theology Student

So, you may have noticed I haven't blogged in a while. About that...

Much of it is my own fault, a product of innate laziness and a lack of motivation to wade into the murky waters of the blogosphere. (I know, that's a mixed metaphor. Get over it!) After all, the relative anonymity of the Internet often brings out the worst elements in us. We type the sorts of things most of us would never say to another person, because here we're not really interacting with persons, just with words on a screen. And while the general conversational nastiness of the medium hasn't made its way here in a while, it still depresses somewhat my desire to put my best (or even fourth- or fifth-best) thought out here to be picked apart by the small-minded bullies (faith-based and otherwise) of blogdom.

Also, I've been exploring my creative side a little bit. I've picked up a new mandolin, and have been playing it for the last few months. And now it looks like I'll be getting a violin, my first musical love. I played violin for 11 years (from age 7 to 18), but quit after I graduated high school. While my parents never made me play, I still felt the pressure that came from their approval. I felt like if I didn't play, I would somehow disappoint them. That sucked all of the joy out of music for me, though it is no one's fault but my own.

This past summer, however, I felt like I could live without music any longer, and since then I've devoted most of my free time to cultivating whatever musical ability there is left in me. Which, biologically speaking at least, should be a great deal, since my identical twin brother is one hell of a musician. Consequently I don't have nearly as much of what little free time I ever had, and so have been less than faithful with this blog.

Today, however, I thought I'd drop by and give you at least a tiny glimpse of the chaos that is my life at the moment. Balancing family, school, church, and now music, is getting complicated. So, here's what I have to do today:

1. Write FOUR papers. (Fortunately they are short ones, just 3-4 pages each.)

2. Make a lesson plan for the Wednesday evening Forum at church, which is part of the National Religious Campaign Against Torture. For the lesson I'm putting together a brief discussion on Christian views on violence (quick overviews of pacifism and Just War theory) and then screening the HBO documentary Ghost of Abu Ghraib, before leading a discussion on the ethics (or lack thereof) of torture. This is what passes for fun for me right now.

3. Do some general maintenance around the house while Sami and Adam are gone today. For those of you with any mechanical skills, what I'm doing will seem quite simple. I'm fixing an antique lamp (nothing wrong with the wiring, just the body) and hanging up three new sets of blinds to replace the (cheap) ones that our cats have torn up. But as I am, well... mechanically challenged (read "inept"), this may be the hardest thing I'll do today.

So far I've got one set of blinds up, written one of the four papers, outlined two more papers, and located the sources I'll use for the fourth paper, and almost fixed the lamp (it is all in one piece now, but is sitting crooked). Not bad.

When I blog again, I'll write down some of the Adam stories I've been collecting between my ears. I've also been wanting to post some of my observations of how the text of Philemon speaks to oppression, and also on differences between the way that white and black Christians see Moses. But for now, I'm back to work.

Mondays are for blogging...

I'm sitting down to write some reflections on Philemon, but before I do, I want to get some housekeeping stuff out of the way.

First, it looks increasingly like Monday is my (only?) day for blogging. I don't have any classes on Mondays, but Adam is off to preschool for the first half of the day, so I have a little bit of down time. I'm sure I could find something school- or church-related to do, but why?

So I've spent this morning surfing the 'Net, trying to catch up with the goings-on in my limited corner of the blogosphere. And I have to give a "shout out":

I know that Michael Westmoreland-White may be a little down, since his most excellent dream has been deferred (for the record, I'd subscribe to a journal like that in a heartbeat!), but his recent posts have been excellent. I'm just sorry I didn't get to read them until this morning. His post Racial Bias in the Courts: The Case of the Jena 6 is both poignant and prophetic. The church (universal) needs voices unafraid to stare down systemic racial oppression, and Michael is one in a long line of such voices. His post should be added to the growing list of things that I wish that I'd written.

Additionally, I thought his commentary on race and the mechanics of the GOP presidential primary was spot on. I know that he'd like to get back to writing more overtly theological posts, but I for one don't see anything wrong with a theological ethicist turning his or her attention to the socio-political sphere. In fact, the ability of our theologies to speak to that socio-political sphere - to critically engage the ethics of social and political systems, and to offer both critiques and possible solutions - is a test of our theological vitality. In other words, if our respective theologies can't interact with the nuts and bolts of daily life (with daily life being shaped by the social and political power structures in which we live and move and breathe), we are enslaved by dead theologies rightly castigated by Marx as opiates.

So, Michael, keep up the good work. Be comforted by the vitality of your current work in cyberspace, while we all (with, I hope, the Holy Spirit) breathe on the embers of your deferred dream until a bright, warm flame emerges.

Placeholder Post of Sorts

I'm currently drowning in school work, and so may not post much for the next few weeks (or I may manufacture time from thin air and do all that I want to do along with all that I have to do). However, I wanted to let you know, dear reader (who was jilted for all of August!) that I have a few posts in mind for whenever I finally get to write for this blog.

I'm outlining two posts for the But We Proclaim Christ Crucified series, one looking at crucifixion as a call to action, and the other looking at crucifixion within liberation theology. In addition to that, I'm also outlining a meditation of sorts on a book that has always troubled me: Philemon. To anticipate the future post a little bit, I hope to wrestle with Paul's refusal to overtly condemn the practice of slavery, while also identifying some content in Paul's letter to Philemon that will provide us with theological tools for fighting oppression wherever it arises.

But now I've got to get back to school work.

She's Back, and We're Off!

At 5:30 this morning, I heard a plaintive yeow. Elise was home.

And, just in time, too, as we're headed off to Holden Beach, NC, sometime this afternoon.

Holden Beach holds as special place in our hearts, and not just because it is quiet and calm, far removed from its neighbor to the south, Myrtle Beach, SC, in temperment. Holden Beach is also a place of family history. My great grandmother owned a house on Holden Beach, where my maternal grandmother grew up until it was destroyed by Hurricane Hazel in 1954.

I grew up hearing stories about that legendary storm, which so rocked my grandmother's world that she hasn't been back to Holden Beach since. According to family legend, Hazel literally uprooted the house, carrying it several blocks before it unceremoniously plopped it down on a different street. When my family found it, and began to clean it out, they noticed something truly bizarre. It turns out, the air pressure from the storm was so strong that even though the house flew through the air and then crashed, destroying almost everything, all of the dishes were still neatly stacked in the cabinets. They hadn't moved.

I'll return from Holden Beach next Friday, just in time to start an intensive summer class. So I don't know when I'll be able to get back to blogging. But, while you're cruising around the blogosphere eagerly awaiting my return, make sure to check out Tom's haircut! It was his first in over four years!

Cat AWOL

Before Sami and I had Adam, we had our animals, and they are as much a part of the family as anyone. Late Sunday night, one of our two precious cats (the friendly one, not the autistic one - yes, my wife, who works with autistic children all day every day, claims we have an autistic cat), "Elise," or, as I call her, "Knucklehead," disappeared. Here is my favorite picture of her, taken one Christmas as we were putting the boxes away:



And here she is balancing on my feet one night before bed:



"Knucklehead," if you're out surfing the 'Net, know that we miss you! And come home soon, before we really start to worry.

In other news, we'll be taking our annual pilgrimage to Holden Beach, NC, later this week, so I may not blog for a while. We're leaving the 'Ville on Thursday, and won't get back until next Friday, at which point I'll be starting a six day a week summer class, which should take up most of my time.

An Enchanted Sabbatical

In case you haven't noticed, once again I've taken a bit of a break from my blog. I'll explain why in a moment; first I've got to come out of a closet of sorts.

No, despite the insinuations of an anonymous commenter that, since I write from time to time on issues related to the GLBT community, I just might be hiding something, I have no sexual closet to come out of. But sexuality isn't the only area in which people pretend to be one way, while privately harboring some forbidden love.

I pretend to be a sophisticated person of sorts, with refined taste. But, in secret, I am... (pausing for dramatic effect)... a (another pause tossed in for good measure - I'd do a drum roll, but I can't) Harry Potter fan!!!

I know that puts me in pretty good company. Given that J.K. Rowling just became the first person to ever make more than a billion dollars for writing books, there are more than a few Harry Potter fans in the world. And, I am one of them. I don't feel the need to either explain or defend my love of the Harry Potter books and movies, and I suspect that none of my dear, beloved readers would expect that from me.

That said, I grew up on fantasy. Before I could read, my mother read to me from C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. The first books I ever chose for myself were written by Lloyd Alexander, Madeleine L'Engle, Ray Bradbury, and Isaac Asimov. As a teenager one of my mom's brothers became my favorite uncle (despite being the only Republican in the family!) by introducing me to Stephen R. Donaldson's Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever, giving me Lord Foul's Bane as a Christmas present.

I think I've learned as much theology from great works of fantasy - imaginative works that create new worlds in which to explore existential and ethical problems in the midst of ripping good yarns - as I have from theology texts. C.S. Lewis' Perelandra or 'Til We Have Faces are both more interesting and more theologically responsible than his myriad non-fiction books. And while Madeleine L'Engle's Time Trilogy (which, like Douglas Adams' "increasingly inaccurately titled" Hitchhiker's Trilogy eventually comprised well more than three books) may be the only works of "children's literature" that I've seen appear in the bibliography of a theology text (Walter Wink said that they provide "an excellent starting place for understanding the Powers"), a great many of the books I read as a kid might somehow find themselves in whatever magnum opus I decide to write.

So, it is no accident that I like the Harry Potter books. I've been critical of them from time to time - the use of magic can be downright lazy, there is too great a dichotomy between good and evil and few non-violent methods for dealing with evil, and I don't think the wizarding community has any sense of how they have interconnected and interdependent relationship with the Muggle world. Ursula LeGuin's Wizard of Earthsea books have a much better developed philosophy and ethic of magic. But the Harry Potter books are full of the most enchanting magic of all: they make children, raised in an age of television and video games, read again.

And this past week has been a great week to be a Harry Potter fan, with the new movie just out, and the long-awaited final book on its way. I've been downright giddy of late. And that, I'm afraid, is why I haven't been blogging. In anticipation of the new movie (I finally saw it this afternoon - Sami and I give it two thumbs up!) and the final book, I've been frantically re-reading the whole series. It's taken up all my time.

So I've been on an enchanted sabbatical, slipping off to the magical world of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry every chance I get. See you when I get back.

(And, if, like me, you are a Harry Potter fan, don't foget to check out my friend Heather's new temporary blog, The Muggle Tongue.)

Long Time No See

April is about to turn into May, and its been a while since I've posted anything. I owe you an explanation.

You can probably guess what that explanation is. I'm taking five seminary classes, and we're nearing the end of the semester. I have a two-year-old, and he demands a great deal of time and energy. I have a wife who'd like to see me from time to time. And, my wrist has healed to the point where I can (praise God!!!) play tennis again. Each of these have conspired together to keep me from the blogosphere.

And, you know what? I'm glad. My "real" life is at least as enriching as this bold social experiment. Sure I'm drowning in a sea of school work, and family life is almost as stressful as it is rewarding, but I feel like I've been doing things that are worth doing. And, in that context, spending time writing for this blog is less worth doing. That doesn't mean that I intend not to post again. It just means that like many people before me, I'm beginning to rethink my relationship with my blog.

What that means only time will tell. I suspect that my temporarily suspended blogging hiatus will not last forever. I'll be free from the tyranny of school from the middle of May through the middle of August, and without classmates to terrorize with my theological ramblings, I'll have to let any stray ideas loose on you, brave reader. But, until then, I'm not sure what I'm going to post or when I'm going to post it.

Holing Up

This week is Research and Study Week at LPTS. People unfamiliar with the nature of this week may think that is a euphemism for Spring Break. It, after all, has in common with Spring Break both

a.) timing, and

b.) number of classes you're required to attend.

In other words, Spring has almost sprung, and I get a week off from attending classes. However, lest I be tempted to waste my time pursuing folly, I am afforded no break this week. Instead, I'm holing up in my basement office, writing at least 3 to 5 hours per day. Before I realized the workload I would have this week I spoke bravely of using this time to catch up on all the things I haven't had time to do since I returned to school. I might catch up on my work for church, or I might revisit some sections I'd been working on for my possibly-never-to-be-written book, before I forget what I'd decided to write. But now I'm staring at an insane amount of academic work, laughing at all of my classmates who thought they might take this week to visit the beach.

I have at least one major project for every class I'm taking, all due either at some point during this week, or by the end of next week. Here are just a few of the essay questions/topics that I'll be taking on:

For History of the Christian Experience I:

1. Eusebius of Caesarea (that's the Caesarea in Palestine, remember) is often called "the first church historian." The selection you read (§ 18 in RWCH) is not from his Ecclesiastical History but from a Life of Constantine, which is both a narrative of Constantine's life and also an example of a literary form of commending and praising its subject. Write an essay which examines the portrayal of Constantine in this work. How are you the reader being invited to think of this figure? What features in the text reinforce this view? What implications can you see for the church when an emperor assumes the roles described here?

2. The Nicene Creed takes an affirmation of faith organized by the baptismal formula “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” (cf. both Matthew 28:19 and Didache VII) and adds to this baptismal creed “clarifications” of the identity of Jesus Christ which had their origin in the controversy with Arius and his followers. What is the significance of these additions, especially the “homoousios” formula? How do you evaluate the decision to use non-Biblical terms to convey in a new cultural context the meaning of Christian faith?

For Paradigms of Mission:

1. Why is language so important to Christianity, according to Lamin Sanneh? Outline his argument and give two examples of the importance of language in theology and Christian practice from your own experience.

2. Describe specific reformation views and discuss their influence today. Choose three of the following:
i. The authority of the institutional church in the lives of believers.
ii. Christian views of the priesthood of all believers.
iii.The role of the church in governing society.
iv. The importance of individual experience in Christian life.
v. Understandings of the after-life and how to avoid God's punishment.

3. Compare the views of the church in the mission paradigm of Matthew and the Pauline missionary paradigm, according to David Bosch. How are the identity and the values of the church reflected in each? What are the similarities and differences between the two views of the church?

4. Outline the contemporary crisis in mission, according to David Bosch. In what ways are the issues he addresses reflected in your own denomination or congregation? Describe the "danger" and "opportunity" presented in this situation.

For this class I also have to, by next Wednesday, write a 5-6 page Critical Book Review of Lamin Sanneh's Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture.

Along with these specific questions, other classes are asking more opened ended questions.

For Resistance and Reconciliation I have to write a paper outlining my own concept of theological resistance (you can see that developing in some of the posts here), and start anticipating if and how that concept paves the way for the ministry of reconciliation.

For Growing in the Life of Christian Faith I have to write a paper reflecting on the relationship between evil, suffering, and our ideas about and experience of God (another topic that you can see me developing here).

Finally, for Intro to Judaism I have to write a paper reflecting on recent visits to a Reform and a Conservative synagogue.

As you can see, there will be no "Break" for me this Spring - just work, work, and more work. If anything interesting emerges from this turbulent sea of course work, I'll post it here. In the meantime, forgive me if I don't do anything other than work for school, as I'm up to my ears in it.

Christian Peace Bloggers

Fellow Louisvillian Michael Westmoreland-White of Levellers has started a new Blog-Ring for "Christian bloggers who care deeply about peacemaking," Christian Peace Bloggers. Following the leads of PamBG and Patrik, I've decided to join up, committing to post something on peace at least once a week.

That will be hard for me for more than a couple of reasons. First, I don't know what will happen with this blog when I start back to school - and I have orientation tomorrow! I'm sure that I won't be able to keep up my current pace of writing something (not all of it for this blog, however) every day. I just hope that I will find the time to do any writing in addition to my work for school.

Additionally, while I often preached on peace when I was both a Youth Minister and later a pastor, I have posted very little on the subject since leaving ministry and starting this blog. I'm not sure why. Mostly, I suppose, it is because I rarely plan out my topics in advance. I love the freedom of blogging - it keeps me from having to chart too tight a course. Whatever I am going through, whatever I am reading, whatever I happen to think of, whatever happens in the course of the day - this is what I post on. So, while I post on any number of diverse topics, really I am the topic here.

That said, I have on occasion written about the War in Iraq, including this post, which applies Just War Theory to both the arguments made in favor of the war and the facts of the war as it develops. I also posted a Christmas devotional, Prince of Peace, that explores cultivating personal peace in the hectic holiday season. Neither of those posts, however, amount to the sort of powerful rhetoric I had on peace from the pulpit.

I remember, for instance, a sermon that I gave just after my best friend returned from Iraq. Titled "Sowing the Seeds of Peace," it focused on the role of faith in cultivating both internal, personal peace, and just as importantly the corporate peace that should characterize Christian communities. It called on Christians to experience the peace that comes from God, to allow that peace to transform them, and then to be agents of peace in a world too often marred by violence. It saw cultivating peace as one of the most powerful expressions of the Christian faith.

This sermon was, in part, the product of my wrestling with my friend's letters from Iraq. After struggling to work his way through college, he decided to join the Marine Corp Reserves in part to relieve some of the financial pressures of trying to pay his own way through school. Of course, there was much more to his decision to join the Marines than just this, but one of the big factors was their promise to help pay for school. With that promise they have bought the loyalty of more than a few struggling young men, hoping to make a better life for themselves.

I remember seeing him right after he came home from boot camp - full of the pride that came from having remade his body and his mind. He was a fine-tuned precision instrument, in the best shape of his life, his self-esteem boosted from having survived rigors that he couldn't have imagined before he set off for Paris Island. His long hair shorn, his beard shaved off, and his body reformed, he glew with pride. The Marines gave him a self respect that no one could take away.

But, by the time he was shipped off the Iraq, he was a different person. His wife had left him, and left him semi-homeless. For a time he lived in my basement, before trying to start a new life in his native Arkansas, on the family farm that his parents had been so eager to leave. Still a reservist, he drove from Arkansas to Fort Knox, KY for his weekend drills, while using the money that the government had promised him to pay for some community college classes near his new home.

Just as he was getting settled in, just as he was beginning to reclaim the bright, promising life that almost died when his wife left, he was called up for active duty, shipped off to drive a tank in the first wave of our invasion of Iraq. Here is what he wrote to me from the ship that took him off to war:

... the guys all talk about killing ragheads. To them it's like a game, just another training exercise, except the targets are shooting back. The targets don't have names or faces or families or friends who love them and want them to come home. They're just part of the "evil regime" that must be overthrown. They're, many are, simply focused, with no thought to the why's and the wherefor's of what they are doing. They simply accept the propaganda against these people. To them, you either believe in what you're doing or you don't; you're either a patriot or you're not. There's no middle ground.

But it's not that easy. People die in this exercise. It's not a game. These people have homes and families and friends, just like we do, and, no matter how we try, no matter how good we are, the innocent will suffer as well. If we think we're doing them justice, might we be wrong? Might our efforts to bring down tyranny create, in the death, destitude, starvation and bitterness that ensues, a greater tyranny of its own?

Hell, I don't even know for sure why we're going. Some say it's to bring down a dictator. Some say it is to finish a war that never really ended. Some say it is to prevent a future, more terrible war. Some say it's for the oil and economy. Perhaps, to us, it's all these things. Perhaps we'll be heroes back home. Perhaps we'll never know.

I know one thing for sure. To the people we have come to "liberate," it's nothing but an invasion of their homes.

I could write more from that letter, post marked Jan. 21, 2003, but my heart breaks reading it now just as it broke reading it when it finally arrived in my mail box the first time. There was so much conflict in all the letters; the internal conflict of a man pulled between competing values, competing priorities. While he was off to war he spent his nights laying on the desert sand, reading Thomas Merton, remembering St. Francis, and contemplating what it means to live a life of faith. In his heart and mind, peace, love and compassion waged war with loyalty and duty. The letters he sent reflected a love and concern for his fellow soldiers. He feared for both their physical and moral state.

What kept him sane - as sane as a soldier can be - during the fighting was his bond with his comrades. He fought with them and for them rather than against anyone. His struggle was to ensure that his friends survived.

When he returned I heard his stories, and I saw the pain in his eyes. He was proud that he and so many of his companions survived. He was proud that he did his duty, and did it well. But there was a deep pain under all of that pride; a pain that reflected that perhaps he gave up too much of his soul just to ensure that his body survived.

That his story is not a tragedy speaks to the resiliency of his spirit, and the redeeming power of grace. He is now free and clear of his commitment to the military, living in Dayton, Ohio, and working on a very different front line. He now fights to reclaim the lives of urban teenagers, operating his own missionary youth ministry. He fights the violence of the streets with the grace and peace of the God who somehow brought him out of war a whole man.

Changes Coming?

I guess you've probably noticed that I've slowed down a bit, posting only Adam's second annual birthday post since last Wednesday's manifesto on Christian enlightenment. I've spent most of my writing time of late editing material for my hypothetical future book or staring at the screen waiting for inspiration to come. I've finally finished reading Marcus Borg's new book on Jesus, and have almost finished with Barack Obama's new book on, well, Barack Obama, but neither of them have really provided me with too much to respond to. Both books are excellent, don't get me wrong. But Obama's book is essentially outside my field, and Borg's book is mostly a retelling of everything he's already written, only in greater depth, with a few words changed. Anyway, I've written more than enough on Borg since this blog started.

Meanwhile, I've been busy at church. I led a Forum series on the Creation Myths of Ancient Israel, but I haven't yet edited my notes for that into something that I could use here. I also finally got to preach from the "big pulpit" in the sanctuary of my church, one of the most magnificent sanctuaries in America. Standing behind that pulpit, proclaiming my interpretation of the Word of God to the racially, culturally, socially and theologically diverse congregation that gathers there every Sunday for worship, was literally awesome. A moment filled with awe.

I'm used to preaching from pulpits. Before I was appointed to my own church I was frequently a guest preacher at other churches. I have many friends in ordained ministry, and when I was a Youth Minister they would call me to fill in for them whenever they went on vacation. I was a pinch hitter of sorts. Of course, when I got a pulpit of my own, those calls stopped coming. And, after I left ministry I'm not sure that many of them knew what to think. Did my leaving the pulpit signal a desire to stop preaching altogether, or just a desire to no longer have a charge of my own? Not even I could say.

But never in my life have I preached in such a majestic place, such an architectural wonder. The space itself seems sacred, as though the artistry in the building, the aesthetics, somehow makes it a "thin place," a space where the sacred and the secular meet, if only for a moment. Standing behind that pulpit I felt what I had always imagined I would feel as a pastor, instead of the emptiness that so often filled my brief and embattled pastoral career.

I preached on I Corinthians 13. The occasion was "Youth Sunday," the day that the teenagers in the congregation lead the worship service. We have no Youth Minister. When I arrived I asked our pastor what the greatest need in the congregation was. She - knowing me from my reputation as an ex-pastor - had no idea that I spent most of my ministerial career working with teenagers, so she said, "Well, I don't know if you can help in this area, but our greatest need in in Youth Ministry." I volunteered to teach the Youth Sunday School class. It was, quite literally, the least I could do.

As a Youth Minister I loved working with teenagers, but I hated programming. As you can probably imagine, I have absolutely no idea what most people consider fun. I wasn't very good at being a teenager when I actually was one, and I have a very hard time pretending to be one no that I'm not. The farther removed I get from my teenage years the less I know about what "the kids" like to do these days. I can teach almost anyone almost anything, but I can't program to save my life.

So, I volunteered to teach, telling myself that I would finally have the freedom to do what I'm good at without having to worry about being fired for what I'm not good at. Win-win situation. I can still minister, but I don't have to take the grief that comes with the paycheck.

My role has expanded a little since I started working with these teenagers. Now, as Chair of the church's Education Team, I oversee all education ministries, including Youth. As a part of that, I got to help plan for Youth Sunday. After we picked the scripture and the topic, I started coaching the teenagers through their roles. Well, first I had to figure out what their roles were going to be. The I had to bribe them into accepting their roles. After all that, I got to coach them, to get them ready for their respective parts in the service.

I didn't intend to preach. I've preached a little since I've reclaimed my amateur status, but always in the safety of our communion service in the chapel, a small, lay led service at 8:45 Sunday mornings. My plan was for the teenagers to give the message for Youth Sunday. We poured over the text for weeks in our Sunday School class, as I gradually broke it down for them, and then taught them how to do it for themselves. Finally I gave them each a homework assignment: Pick a sentence or two from the passage, and tell me what it means to you. That would be the message on Youth Sunday.

But nerves set in. Most of them didn't want to get in front of the congregation. What would they say? How would to church respond? They weren't used to being in a position of leadership, and weren't comfortable with it. I finally agreed to provide a brief introduction, explain what we had studied in class, and then personally introduce each teenager as they shared their answer from our homework assignment. That "brief introduction" turned into more of an exegesis of the passage, and soon enough I had an actual, bonafide sermon on my hands.

So, last Sunday, before the teenagers each had their moment behind the pulpit, I had mine. Fifteen minutes of exegesis, just like it used to be. The only differences were that I was in a congregation of my choosing. A "liberal" congregation, an urban, multi-cultural congregation, that knows where I stand and accepts me as one of them. I got to preach as a lay person, one of many members of the congregation, sharing his gifts with the others. And then, like a proud parent, I got to introduce three of my students as they shared their thoughts on the passage.

I've been meaning to turn that sermon into a piece for this blog, too. But other projects keep getting in the way. When I preach I rarely write anything down. That is my gift, and my curse. I don't exactly improvise, in that I have everything planned out. A tight exegesis that sticks pretty strictly to the text. But, I chart a course in my head and follow it, allowing the specific language to come in the moment. Those of you who have heard others preach like this know that the result can often be disaster. But when I do it, it isn't. I preach the way that I write, and it works out about the same.

Consequently, there is no script for me to copy and paste here. There are only the ideas that are floating around in my head. So, to turn that sermon into a blog post I would have to recreate it in a much different environment. I would have to look at my few notes, and then stare at this computer screen, hoping that it inspires the same sort of words that a sanctuary full of some of my closest friends already inspired. I'm sure I could write something very good. But it would not be the sermon I delivered last Sunday, any more than my post on Moses and the Burning Bush was the sermon that I gave on the same topic in the chapel five days before I posted it.

And now school is about to start. I'm looking forward to my classes - I can't wait to get started. But I also know that going back to seminary will take me from this blog. I'm just hoping that it won't keep me from working on the book. Reality is setting in. This blog is running out of steam. Soon I may be just another infrequent blogger who posts from time to time merely to relieve some misplaced guilt.

Anyway...

The congregation's response to my sermon rocked me. It isn't just shameless arrogance when I say that I was and am a very good preacher. I can deliver a sermon with wit, depth, poetry and power. Even my biggest enemies have always acknowledge that - it was perhaps their biggest reason for opposing me. I remember at my only pastoral appointment, one Sunday after church, hearing a visitor exclaim to her friend that the church was lucky to have such an excellent preacher. The friend, one of my strongest opponents in the church, grumbled, "Well, he talks good, anyway."

If I were ineffectual then there would never have been any reason to oppose me. I would have opposed myself, discrediting my theology with ineptitude. Oddly, by being competent at my job, a decent person, and an excellent thinker, writer, and public speaker, I created more enemies, more opponents in my congregation, than ineptitude ever could have.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm not being egomaniacal. My former church didn't hate me because I could preach. But their hatred, and their opposition, carried a sense of urgency because of it. They had a fear that if they didn't oppose me as vehemently as they could, I just might lead the entire church astray, seducing them with my eloquent words and heretical theology.

But, having climbed back into the pulpit again, if only for a Sunday, I found myself accepted, loved, and encouraged. Most people who found me after the service encouraged me to rethink my calling. "God isn't done with you," they said. "You should do that for a living," they said.

My plan in going back to school is to try to carve out a living as a theologian, as a teacher and a writer. My goal is also to transform the church from the inside, as a layperson who models the commitment to ministry that God calls all of us to, and not just some professional class of Christians we call the clergy. Yet, after giving a sermon last week, and after listening to the congregation respond to what I had to say, I have to wonder, even if only a very little bit, if I'm not running away from my calling. I have to wonder, even if only a little bit, if I'm not scarred and scared, and looking for anything to do except what I might be best at.

Oh, well... time will tell. Back to work on the book before I hop in bed. I just tucked Adam in, and, and my head is more full of sleep than "lofty" thoughts. And once again I'm rambling...

Looking for Help With a New Project

I've decided (and not for the first time - let's hope it finally takes) to start working on a book. As I keep writing for this blog, I realize that part of my project here is not just to tell my own story (though that's important) or even to comment on what's happening in the world, but also (this is going to sound to grandiose, but...) to articulate a vision of religion in general, and Christianity in particular. This vision is not necessarily a new one, as it borrows from many authors and theologians. It is also not exactly my vision, as - again - it borrows from other sources, and is a continuation of a movement that neither started with me nor is limited to me.

There may be no glaring need for new books articulating this vision, as Marcus Borg, Johanna W.H van Wijk-Bos, and many other, better educated and more articulate figures are still doing better work than I will ever do. And, I am not exactly qualified to add my voice to the conversation, being neither an ordained minister nor a credentialed scholar. But, if writing this blog has done anything, it has taught me two important lessons:

1. I need to write.

I simply can't help it. I fundamentally need to write. I used to justify the amount of time I spent writing by appealing to something outside myself. The paper is due. The sermon must get prepared. But, for most of my time writing here I have been neither a student nor a minister. There have been no external demands on my time, save for those trying to pry me from my writing. Yet, with no external compulsion, and with no monetary compensation, I've still written something almost every day, and much of it ends up here.

I have an existential need to write. It is simply who I am. And my writing, whatever else it does, articulates a particular vision of religion in general and the Christian religion in particular, no less than my sermons did when I was a preacher. I may have left professional ministry, but I haven't stopped trying to minister to others by articulating a form of Christianity that rests less on believing the impossible than on having faith in the God that lies beyond all human beliefs.

2. Some people respond to my writing.

I certainly don't have the world's most popular blog. In the blogosphere - a strange social artifice, the definition of an artificial reality - I am, in fact, rather small and insignificant. I've never had a knack for self-promotion, nor can I say what most people seem to want to hear.

Life is complicated, faith is complicated, and living a life of faith in this world is, well, complicated. There are no easy answers, and even if there were, I certainly wouldn't have them. So I can't give anyone the five or twelve or twenty or two or whatever steps to enlightenment, serenity, security, salvation, and, of course, a better body.

But, for some reason, some people really do respond to what I write. There may not be very many of them, but, like me, they have all tried the easier answers and found that they were, well, light and unsatisfying. Lacking in spiritual substance, and smacking of dishonesty. As such, while I don't minister to very many people, it is quite possible that many of the people I do minister to through my writing could not be reached in more traditional ways. It's not that they aren't looking for something to satisfy their souls; it's just that they, like me, have trouble accepting arguments from authority, especially when that authority preaches the impossible while consolidating power for itself.

Don't let that fool you, however, into thinking that this blog has a primarily external focus. If anyone is being ministered to here, it's me. Here I can work through my own issues, bouncing ideas off of others who struggle with the same problems, face the same doubts, recoil from the same fears and insecurities. Ultimately this blog, is one of a very few factors that have helped me reclaim my faith, keeping me connected to my Christian roots. That's why I keep writing here.

But it isn't enough. Perhaps that's because no matter how many connections I make here, the blogosphere still feels contrived rather than organic. Sure it has its advantages: where else could I, an unemployed (again!) former pastor of one of the smallest Methodist churches in Kentucky, someone who holds no post-graduate degrees of any kind, someone who has never published a book or a paper, someone who has no right to compete for the attention of the theologically curious and spiritually hungry, connect with people from all over the world? Sure, not too many people, but people nonetheless. People who I would never have contacted in any other medium. And, people who have touched my life and helped shape my thoughts. But, no matter how much I cherish these virtual friendships, these digital connects, they somehow feel a little unreal.

This virtual reality is not very much like my daily experience of life. And, the words and thoughts that I publish here feel much less weighty that the books I read every day. Somehow the screen is not a satisfying a literary vehicle as the page. It lacks the weight, the texture, the smell, and the gloss of a book. It may be much more ecologically friendly, but it is far less romantic. And, no matter what I write here, it doesn't feel as significant as a published book.

Part of this, of course, could be the nature of the work itself. Every day I read books by some of the greatest theological and philosophic minds of any generation - classic works that not only survived the brutal publishing process, but in many cases have also stood the text of time, being checked again and again my new generations of readers, and still found enlightening. I am not fit for such rarefied air.

But part of this may also be the medium. For as functional, as pragmatic as this mode of publishing, this propagation of ideas is, it just doesn't have the weight of books. Ideas cannot be explored as deeply, arguments cannot be sustained as long. I find that, just as soon as I am really digging into the heart of an issue, I press the PUBLISH button and am finished with the topic.

So I think I'm going to try to write a book. I don't know if I can do it. Sure, I've read plenty of books, and have a good idea as to how they're structured from the reader's perspective. But that's not the same as knowing how to construct a book from the ground up, ordering disparate fragments and ideas into a coherent and cohesive whole.

I've got plenty of fragments both at this blog and on my hard drive. I've written more in the past year than could fit into a single volume. But there is a great deal more to constructing a book than just writing volumes. I'm sure of that. I'm just not exactly sure what that "great deal more" is.

My goal for this hypothetical future book is to explore some of the ideas presented at this blog more deeply, and to connect them with some overarching narrative and theological arch. The working title is Waking Up, an exploration of my argument here that

At its best religion, rather than serving as Marx's opiate for the masses, calls us out of our deep slumber, begging us to see the world all around us, and see it clearly. It calls us to identify the causes of suffering and work for its alleviation, while also waking up all those around us. This is salvation. This is enlightenment.

That is the best encapsulation I can give for any broader "project" I might have. My primary beef with the "culture wars" is that they distract from this project, getting hung up on trivial issues, fighting silly fights. They reflect an unhealthy religious concern, a fixation on the "sins" of others - "sins" which in many cases cause no tangible harm - while ignoring both the sins of self and the more public concerns, the countless causes of global suffering.

I am, of course, not by any means alone in taking that stand. Even some of the more conservative evangelicals have started to realize that corporate action has at least as much moral value as private action, and that God is perhaps a great deal more concerned about genocide and global warming than we, with our fixation on who is doing what with whom in the bedroom, have previously acknowledged.

But while this may be no new perspective, and while it may not be offered by someone with either the formal credentials of ordination or a post-graduate degree, nor by someone with the perhaps more important informal credentials of popularity and public acceptance, it is still my story. Still my project. And, since I must write, not because of any external compulsion but simply because it is what I do, I may as well find out whether or not I can write a decent book.

But, if I'm going to do this, I need your help. I've already started putting together a list of posts that I think need some additional exploration, and that may serves as part of the skeleton for this book idea. I now need your feedback. Which posts have really spoken to you; and which posts do you think are connected to the broader project of religion in general and Christianity in particular as a vehicle for the kind of "waking" up that we need to do?

New Sidebar Item, Plus Additional Tagging

The more I visit blogs like Debunking Christianity, blog devoted to debating a single topic or set of topics, the more thankful I am that by and large this blog has been free of the sort of rancor which characterizes discussions in our culture, and especially in this strange artificial social environment we call the blogosphere. So often, both in "real life" and in this virtual milieu, conversations are decidedly polemical, with two definite sides, the "right" side and the "wrong" side. Of course, who is right and who is wrong depends in most cases entirely on perspective. Since we so rarely share the perspective of the "other," our foolish, stupid, misguided, deluded, or just plain evil debate partner, they must a priori be "wrong," just as we undoubtedly seem equally wrong.

This sense of our being "right" and the other being "wrong" as I said is a priori, in that it starts even before the discussion begins. Before any dialogue on any subject, all parties generally begin with a list of beliefs or statements that are "right" and a list of statements and beliefs that are "wrong." Discussion, rather than the meeting of minds and the melding of ideas, becomes both a test and a battle ground. A test, in that each partner in the discussion is looking for particular statements and replies, which signal agreement and acceptance or disagreement and rejection. A battle ground, in that, in the event of disagreement, conflict ensues. This conflict is not a wrestling against yourself to make sure that you fully understand what the other is saying; rather it is a wrestling against the words of the other, which are a priori seen as "wrong."

I say this not to say that all beliefs or ideas are created equal, and have an equal measure of merit, worth, and especially truth-value. Some claims are true, some claims are false. Some ideas are helpful, some ideas are harmful. Rather, I say this to lament the quality of our exchanges, and to lament the arrogance of our clinging to our perspectives. Just because some ideas are true does not mean that my idea, prior to any critical engagement, is necessarily true. Just because some ideas are harmful does not mean that they ideas which contradict my own, by virtue of my disagreeing with them, are necessarily harmful.

Discussion, real discussion, when it happens, serves to expand my perspective. It serves to help me understand other views, and see that not all of my intuitions are universal; not all of my ideas stand up to scrutiny. It also serves to let me know that people who do not share my deepest assumptions are neither evil nor stupid; they are simply not me. But, like me, they also value both the truth and the good, even if we do not always agree what those elusive qualities might be.

Because of the persistence of rancor in blog debates - debates which should be discussions but instead devolve into partisan bickering and polemical warfare - I've added a new section to my sidebar, titled Ground Rules for Discussion. In it you will find a link to my post, A Note on Charity. In the event that a polemical debate ever makes it way to this fair blog, that should prove a useful resource.

On a totally different subject, meme tagging is increasingly like Congressional subpoenas: just because you were overlooked in the first round does not mean that you will escape it. I've decided to issue a new batch of subpoenas - oops, I mean tags - for the Best Contemporary Theology Meme. The whole cast of Habakkuk's Watchpost, consider yourselves tagged. Especially Tyler, Ben, and Kyle. I can't wait to see what you guys come up with.

Holiday Blogging Break

Writing, it turns out, is a solitary enterprise. Sure, many of us writers so shamelessly seek public approval through our work. But the act of creation itself is done in private, with no audience. I suppose like laws and sausages, it is best not to witness how a written work was manufactured.

I've fallen into a bit of a routine with my writing, using the moments of scheduled solitude spread out about my day to "work," writing for this blog or for any other project that temporarily demands my attention. But this holiday season has thrown that schedule off.

Sami has a couple of weeks off work, and Adam has a couple of weeks free from the tyranny of preschool, so I no longer have my lonely mornings spent with nothing better to do than peck at this obnoxious keyboard, which never fails to misrepresent my thoughts almost entirely. As such, it's been a little while since I've written anything worth writing. If this season holds to form it may be quite a while still until I have a sufficient measure of loneliness to do some decent writing.

In the meantime, a couple of updates:

On Friday I had my cast removed. You don't know fear until you've had a lunatic apply a circular saw to your wrist. But the wrist remains attached, and thankfully the fiberglass which once surrounded it now sits in a dumpster behind a doctor's office, waiting to torment some other sad fool who lost their fight against both gravity and reflexive stupidity.

Now begins the slow and painful process of remembering how to use this worthless limb. Not only has it atrophied, but it also has both

a.) a fair amount of scar tissue in the joint, and

b.) a new permanent addition, a screw that holds the bone together.

In the face of these twin obstacles, my darling wife with her degree in physical therapy (and another in psychology, so she can always fix what ails me) tells me that it moves quite well. Of course, I never thought that getting my hand to move no more than an inch in any direction would count as victory, but I'll take it.

However, every victory - no matter how small - comes with its own setbacks. I guess that's the universe's way of balancing the ledger. Now that I've got my hand back I've picked up the stomach bug that's been circulating Adam's preschool. So, instead of writing something deep and insightful, I'm off to test the recuperative powers of Ginger Ale, saltine crackers, and Sami's homemade tofu-noodle soup, a vegetarian alternative to the miraculous chicken noodle soup, made with a vegetable broth base and tofu instead of chicken. No bird should have to part with its life just because the contents of my stomach are bouncing around like an obese belly dancer.

New Link, and New Sidebar

Tyler at Habakkuk's Watchpost introduced me to God in a Shrinking Universe an interesting blog by Finnish theologian Patrik Hagman. While he is working on a PhD on a Patristic mystic, his work on Paul Tillich's Systematic Theology seems most interesting to me. So I've added a link to his blog on my sidebar, replacing my beloved Lost on Twin Earth. (Why, Brian, why?!? *sobbing uncontrollably, head in hands*)

While I was updating my sidebar, I decided to add a new category: Sandalstraps on the Problem of Pain. As you may remember, in August and September I had a bit of a theodicy fetish. After having looked those posts over with a little bit of time between composition and re-reading, I almost like them, which is really saying something. Generally, as soon as I'm done writing something, I hate it. I have to force myself to post it. I can see all of its limitations, all of its flaws, and none of its virtues. Time passes. I read it again, and am surprised that it is almost but not quite passable. After, oh, maybe a year, I can almost like it.

So, since I already almost like some of the posts from my theodicy phase, I've decided to make them a part of my sidebar, enshrining them next to my commentaries on the culture wars. If you haven't yet read them, and have even a slight interest in the subject (and more than a little bit of time, since I can't even say my name in a couple of paragraphs!) I recommend you check them out. And I certainly recommend checking out God in a Shrinking Universe.

Midweek (and Midterm) Update: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

First, the good:

Democrats have, as I'm sure you're now aware, made sweeping gains in yesterday's elections, taking control of the House, and quite possibly also the Senate. Here in Louisville that manifested itself in John Yarmuth's shocking victory over five-term incumbent Anne Northup in the KY 3rd Congressional District.
Yarmuth was until yesterday best known as the founder of one of my favorite periodicals, the LEO, a local alternative weekly newspaper. Long an outspoken critic of both the Bush administration and Congresswoman Northup, he decided to literally put his money where his mouth was, fronting his campaign over $700,000 of his own money in an attempt to partially neutralize the incumbent's fundraising advantage.

Despite being outspent more than two to one, and despite receiving very little help from either the KDP or the DCCC, Yarmuth rode the wave of voter disgust with Republican leadership to an improbable victory. Of course, now we'll see if he can lead as well as he heckles from the sidelines.

For the record, I've long been a fan of Yarmuth's writing, finding him the rare lucid voice in the cacophony of propaganda masquerading as political commentary. That said, I voted against him in the primary, for these reasons:

1.) There is a big difference between criticizing and leading. I would know. I've been writing about religious issues my entire adult life, but that doesn't mean that I was a great pastor. I think that I can identify the traits necessary for a great pastor, and articulate them clearly in writing. But that doesn't mean that I can embody those traits. Similarly, John Yarmuth is a great writer and political commentator, but that alone does not mean that he will be a great Congressman.

2.) I was, despite my rather forceful letter to his campaign, rather enamored with Yarmuth's opponent in the Democratic primary, a local lawyer and former Marine named Andrew Horne. Not only was he a proven leader (despite, like Yarmuth, being a political neophyte), but he was also a fellow Methodist! I even acted in a play with his son.

3.) During the campaign Yarmuth could open his mouth without sounding mad as hell. He could say his name and have it come out as a cross between an insult and a threat.

Those concerns aside, a happily voted for him yesterday, and am beyond pleased that Louisville's most "liberal" public figure has bested a local icon and five-term incumbent. Now let's see what, if anything, newly elected Congressman Yarmuth (that will take some getting used to!) and his fellow Democrats can do with some political power. At the very least they should be able to provide a long-overdue check on the powers of the presidency.

Next, the bad:

My wrist is in worse shape than we originally thought, and will require surgery. I'm leaving in eight minutes (I'd better type fast) to go meet with the surgeon to discuss, I suppose, where he'd like to put the screws and when he'd like to put them there. There is at least some chance that my recreational tennis career will be aborted before it ever really got started.

Finally, the ugly:

I'm leading a Bible Study at church tonight for our Wednesday Evening Forum series - a continuation of our seminars discussing homosexuality. I always teach with two tools:

1. my voice, and

2. a dry-erase board.

I can't teach without writing things down on a board. It's how I organize my thoughts. So try to picture, if you will, my already poor penmanship distorted even more by my clumsy left hand. The last time I had to write left-handed was after I fell while building a treehouse in first grade. I broke a couple of bones in my right arm, causing it to bend like one of those rubberized professional wrestler dolls that I loved at the time, making me think that I would forever have a c-shaped arm. After the panic subsided, the pain set in. But the pain was a welcome relief from the horrifying belief that I had, at the age of six, permanently ruined my body.

Anyway, I had a cast on for, I don't know... it felt like forever. During that time I learned two important things:

1. Casts don't make for good weapons. I hit some poor kid with my cast on the playground at recess one day, only to discover that it hurt me a hell of a lot more than it hurt him. And

2. I can't write left handed, no matter how much I practice.

But, absent some beautiful and benevolent assistant to write all my thoughts for me (are you reading this, Sami?) I'm going to have to try writing on my precious dry-erase board left handed tonight. How's that for ugly?!?

Weekend Update

We had one hell of a weekend.

Friday night our van was broken into. My wife's purse was in it. It was rifled through, and all of her credit cards stolen.

Saturday morning I went to tennis practice, and once again played like a maniac. I am infamous for running around the court, tracking down every ball at full speed. I'm not a great tennis player, but I don't voluntarily surrender any points. Early on in practice, a harbinger, I ran into the back wall of our indoor court, chasing a ball that no sensible person would have thought anyone could get to. I emerged from that collision unscathed, though I did make my teammates nervous.

About half an hour after that I was playing up at the net for one of our drills, and I got lobbed. I take lobs as almost an insult to my speed. How dare you think that I couldn't run that shot down?!? The shot was a little too high, and so, even though it was deep and to my left, I ran the lob down and still had enough time left over to spin around and attempt a forehand instead of a backhand. Changing directions and spinning around at full speed is, well, stupid.

I tripped over my own feet, my momentum propelling me backward. Even though I spent months working on how to fall in my martial arts class, the lessons apparently didn't stick. I threw my arms out to catch my fall, a cardinal sin. Instead of bruising my butt and spraining my dignity, I broke my wrist.

I'm writing this, then, for three reasons:

1. To vent, while also sharing information.

2. To solicit prayers. I'm not always sure what I think about intercessory prayer, but I am sure that it never hurts.

3. To practice typing with a cast on. Early verdict: not easy. Not only do I not have all of my fingers - I can really only use about six at a time - but the cast keeps hitting random keys, or even worse, hitting the delete button.

I may have just picked up some writing work which will really help us out, especially since my bosses at work are skeptical about my ability to perform my duties with only one hand. But to do the writing work - assuming, of course, it actually works out - I'm going to have to learn how to type with the fiberglass weight on my hand, immobilizing my wrist and thumb and randomly smacking keys.

The good news: Best case scenario, I'm out of the cast in 6 weeks, and playing tennis again in about two months. And, all in all, despite my incessant whining, it could be a lot worse. While I was in the Hand Center's waiting room three different patients were wheeled in with missing fingers and mangled limbs.

And, I just hit spell check to make sure that I didn't clumsily strike the wrong keys while I was typing. While the typing was slow going, I only had one mistake. Even with two good hands I usually have more errors than that. Maybe having to concentrate from time to time, doing a formerly rote task in a new way, isn't such a bad thing.

Found a Job

I've started working for peanuts operating a cash register at a large sporting goods store which will never be mentioned by name here - I don't think that it is always appropriate to blog about work, especially when work is a soul-sucking enterprise. We'll have to see how that demand on my time impacts my writing here. In the meantime, before I have to go pay my dues to the Man again, here is a thought about the "new" economy:

Most new jobs created in the current economic climate are low wage jobs. In most of these jobs, employees are treated as fiscal liabilities; that is, as overhead and potential overhead, in need of reduction. They are treated with suspicion by management, seen as thieves or potential thieves, always looking to steal time, money and/or merchandise. They are treated with derision by those they serve, who thank God that they are not like these poor souls who have to slave away in a dead-end, low-pay job.

My first day on the job, many a person treated me like a complete idiot. Not only am I stuck here - an indication of my abilities and my worth - but I'm not any good at it! Surely any idiot, save for this poor, inept soul, can operate a cash register! I spent most of the day wanting to shout out my intellectual credentials, to somehow prove myself to those who see me as little more than a pathetic slave. It was a dehumanizing experience.

Worse still is the myth - nay, lie - that a college degree is a ticket out of low wage work. It shocked me that I couldn't get a better job than this when I decided to re-enter the work force after leaving professional ministry. But it shocked me even more to find that I am not nearly the only person at my work with a college degree. Each of us were a little stunned to find, in this "recovery," that we can't do better than peanuts per hour to work a demeaning and dehumanizing job.

Not, of course, that retail has to be that way. Just that retail, in this environment, is that way. At least mass retail, which follows Wal-Mart's corporate example with varying degrees of success. With, of course, success being determined by the difference between gross revenue and overhead. With, of course, me being seen as overhead, rather than an asset.

In a truly existentially disorienting moment, I ran into one of my co-workers on break, only to realize that he used to be in my Youth Group. He had always seen me as a quasi-mystical creature, someone so intuned with the will and nature of God that I operated on almost another plane. A different category of being. Now I'm just another person in the company uniform, designed to remove as much individuality, creativity, and free will as possible. Talk about being taken down a couple of notches in someone's eyes.

Of course, I always said that I hated how ministry in general and youth ministry in particular too often devolved into a cult of personality. But being at the head of such an accidental cult - even when it comes with "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" - strokes the ego. And my ego had long been in need of stroking. There is a great deal less ego stroking in retail work, where no one notices you unless you make a mistake. Where the whole goal is to minimize the extent to which you can be seen as a liability.

I should start back to school in January, working slowly toward a career in academia, which I'm sure will come with its own challenges and disappointments. In the meantime, I've been dreaming about getting one of my papers tattooed to my forehead, just so that the people who stare at my suddenly blank face will know that I am more than just my function in the store.