What the [Blocked] is he thinking?

It's one thing to pray for Michael Jackson in his current state. I'm reminded every once in a while that I should. I should also pray for his family, children and all, and his victims.

But Kurt Carr, what the hell are you thinking? God is not on Michael Jackson's side. His acquital is not something to celebrate. Is Jackson free? Yes. Was he legally declared not guilty? Yes. Should he be allowed some civility? Yes. Will I or any thinking adult allow any children near him? Are you insane?? Hell no! Would I say that Jackson is innocent? Again, hell no! Would I use the legal verdict of his innocence on these charges to shamelessly promote my new record...

Well, Kurt Carr did, so why the hell not?

All the music news that fits the print

Maybe - since we're not working in print - this title is archaic. But I've always loved it, the precocious dig at the Times. Oh well, time to find something else.

Deepspace 5. Unique, Just Like Everybody Else. Man, I really want to love this album. It's good. Really good. Some of the lines are just nasty.

I'm a poor man's poor man.

I wanna touch the fans like Ron Artest.

And this one, rightly justifying their methods and message to believers who don't bother with the mystery and story of God:

It's a gift to spit slanging / talking jive fables when the Lion slays the Witch / in the Wardrobe of Clive Staples / Sweep out the stable / for the Horse and His Boy / 'cause most are unprepared to be Surprised by Joy / I speak in brief words / this Grief Observed... / Deepspace 5 / spitting for all people who don't want to be spoon-fed their meal / You call it keeping it real / yo, tellin' a plain story / while we're breaking our backs to / bear the full Weight of Glory / we see The Problem of Pain / it's chiefly on prayer / my Letters to Malcolm / they all vanish in thin air / famish ... for lack of knowledge / we mistake Godly wisdom / for going to state college / Pay petty homage to speaking his name clear / even Christ veiled his words in a mystery that few could hear.

It's got an old school Rick Rubin flavor to a lot of it, like without the cheesy guitars. And it's helmed by my second favorite rap group, the fine folks of Mars Ill, manCHILD and DJ Dust.

DS5 is one of the best supergroups around. Almost up to the pantheon of Cross Movement, Jurassic 5 and LA Symphony. But not quite there. And maybe it's the consistent rock-influenced beats, which would sit better in Mars Ill's tracks. But in a cumulative effort, especially with so much voice in it, I'd like to hear more voices. And I know they got the skills to pay 'em out, just based on their last joint, The Night We Called It a Day (yeah, they like them ironic titles). But then again, when I recorded it on to my comp, I only took about half the songs. But what songs they are! Now I lost my original cd. So, all I have are those songs. But Unique is long, longer than this post. There's some great, great songs, including track #11 (I'll fill in the names later, when I got 'em with me.) about surviving sorrow and mortality. But, like so much hip hop, too much too much.

But buy it. What else you gonna get? At least get the T. I did.

Edit out the songs you don't care for& you got a near masterpiece. But keep a full copy, just in case.

On the flip, if you wanna see how a true artist gives interviews, Linford Detweiler of Over the Rhine is putting up free clinics. As with most of the press for their latest, Drunkard's Prayer, Linford delves into the marital issues, partly to salvage and restore, partly to take us on a guided and hopeful tour. Listen and you will not be disappointed. Read and you just may smile.

Talk amongst yourselves.

I want to see Batman Begins (cheap link alert!) again before I make any final judgments, but it'll most likely end up in the pantheon of my top 5 comic book movies. Somewhat behind the Holy Quadron of Superman, Superman II, Spider-Man 2 and X2: X-Men United and just edging out Unbreakable.

They called me Mr. Glass.

But here's an observation I have - file it however you choose:

Batman is a vigilante who clouds himself in mystery. He is terribly anti-crime and plays on fears, his own and others. He is concerned with meting out justice outside of the normal realm of the justice system and often seeking the lesser of two evils to accomplish his ends. He has no qualms about using costly and lethal military resources for those purposes. He is also fabulously rich and a shrewd manager of his affairs. His father, Dr. Wayne, teaches his young son this semi-call & response mantra: Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up. And Dr. Wayne tries to lead the upperclass citizenry to concern for the poor and blighted by his own public examples of humanitarianism.

Batman Begins is a celluloid monument to Reaganism.

I'm the last...

I knew when I saw the schizoid on the 'L' talking into her cell phone that it was time for me to get mine.

The difference is, my service will be on.

Legacy, Community, Culture. Vol. 2

Read the Prologue

Read Volume 1

Community. Baptism is a fundamental part of the shared Christian heritage. Denominations may differ on when to baptize and how to baptize (although I believe the Bible to be explicit in regards to the latter matter, but I digress), and even the function of baptizing, but the command is clear and universal. Now, the evangelical tradition may do the best job in representing the two first issues with biblical clarity, but because of our blatant individualism, we have robbed the act itself of meaning. We treat it much like we do the Lord's Supper - to be regarded as a command of Jesus to the Church and as a symbol, and little else. Yet consider these words from the Message paraphrase of Romans chapter 6:

So what do we do? Keep on sinning so God can keep on forgiving? I should hope not! If we've left the country where sin is sovereign, how can we still live in our old house there? Or didn't you realize we packed up and left there for good? That is what happened in baptism. When we went under the water, we left the old country of sin behind; when we came up out of the water, we entered into the new country of grace - a new life in a new land!
That's what baptism into the life of Jesus means. When we are lowered into the water, it is like the burial of Jesus; when we are raised up out of the water, it is like the resurrection of Jesus. Each of us is raised into a light-filled world by our Father so that we can see where we're going in our new grace-sovereign country.

I have a couple of friends who were baptized as infants in the Catholic Church. Since joining our church, they have been asked to be baptized again. Once. As a prerequisite for membership. They are members now; but have not undergone baptism as adults. Although I strongly disagree with them on this matter, it is really the evangelical movement that I have an issue with. For, if the precious act of baptism is presented merely as a proclamation of faith (I want to do this because I want to show my family I believe in Jesus.) or as a command of Jesus (I want to do this because the church / Jesus said I should.) then there is little urgency in the act, and no understanding of the act. Therefore, why do it?

I will argue that the act of baptism is not just a proclamation of faith, it is an internalization through bodily action of our understanding of a Truth, the most important Truth that has happened to us believers - the bodily and spiritual death, burial, and resurrection of Christ Jesus our Lord. It is also - a la John the Baptist - a renunciation, or turning point, from the dirty, staunchy, smelly ways of the world and it's death traps. It's also a reminder of desperately clinging to life, a need for light and air, an expectancy of the embrace of life, in concordance with the action of going down into the waters and coming back up again after being consumed by the water. And, most importantly for the effects of this essay, it's the entering into the legacy of those who have passed before us and the commonality of those who travel with us. Baptism is to the new covenant what circumcision is to the old covenant: a mark of the delivered, a seal of the collective children of the covenant.

Commissioner, is there a six foot bat flying around Gotham?

Ok, I looooved the original Batman movie. The one with the rubber shark jumping out of the water and biting Batman and Robin while they're hanging on to a helicopter's rope ladder. It's a good thing Batman incidentally had his handy shark repellant with him that day. "Where does he get such wonderful toys?"

And I loved, loved, loved the late 80's Tim Burton take on the Bat's, The Joker. "You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight? I ask that of all my victims."

But upon revisiting the classic a year ago, even though I will always be endeared to Nicholson's portrayal of the Green-Haired One, Keaton was stoic. Too stoic (Read: Booooring!). He was great when Burton released him to over-act in Beetlejuice. In fact, that's Burton's forte: The eccentric overactor standing in for the eccentric over-acting teenage angst pile that is Tim Burton. Which is why Heston got that cameo in the Planet of the Apes: Marky Mark Strikes Back. Which is why Depp's so great for him (eccentricity takes precedence over over-acting) and Robin Williams and Al Pacino (overacting at all costs) work best when hemmed in by thoughtful directors - the likes of Chris Nolan (Insomnia. A movie starring both of them that I liked. A-flippin'-mazin'!).

See how it all comes full circle? I was aching to go see it tonight, but my roommate's aren't home and I don't have my notes for the other post I wanted to do, so... you're stuck with this.

I love this semi-review by Peter T. Chattaway. Him just mulling over some movies is more insightful than most 'reviews' and certainly anything on the boob tube. (Take that, Richard Roeper!) And, of course Ebert also had some great things to say about it, noting that it's the Batman movie that he didn't know he was waiting to see. In fact, most reviewers I read (Jeffrey Overstreet, Chattaway, Ebert and Steven D. Greydanus) more or less hated Burton's first version and raved about this one. Me? I don't know...

Vickie Vale.
Vickie Vale.

Meta-blog at the bar the other night...

...Took me out for some drinks and left me hanging. Think I'm pregnant.

I have been fairly busy. Which is relative for me. I'm not the type of person who schedules his life by the minute. Hour. Day, so much. I burn out easily. I went to a high school of overachievers and nearly flunked out. Don't tell my students. I also lose focus fairly easy. But that's something else for another day. But when I actually had time for writing, blah came out. So, in regards to trying to keep up with relationships (including my roommates, who may or may not be waiting for me at home, worried sick in their bunny slippers), work, physical activities, the new Deepspace 5 that I'm swallowing and taking care of my whole person (spirit, soul, the social and the physical that I already alluded to, of course), I want to get a few words in about what I'm thinking in regards to this activity, my little corner of the blogocosmos.

I'm discovering that I am a slave to the things that I say I hate. That's nothing new. Certainly, it's an old idea in the Christian worldview. But I constantly discover new areas of conceit. Take, for instance, consumerism. Consumerism works its head against community. It forces its way through society to say that each and every is more important than the whole and all. That not only are the sums of the parts greater than the whole, but the parts each individually are greater than the whole. Consumerism has become our all; choice is a freedom that is worthy of dying and killing for. A complex issue of freedom and justice is broken down into a choice of pro- or anti-. War. Poverty. Abortion. Euthanasia.

A liberal democracy runs on the power of the choices with the most powerful voices pitted against those with less powerful voices. The argument can be made that, in all actuality, the choices are more alike than different, especially in an imperialist nation (Capitalist or Marxist). Which makes the whole idea of choice almost superfluous, at least in the marketplace. Crest or Colgate? With baking powder and/or teeth whitening and/or fluoride and/or mint? In paste or gel? Who needs all this? Who gives a rat's cheek? And, in all reality, are Capitalism and Marxism that different? Well, yeah... But someone - very few someones - is in power. And will do what is possible to retain that power, regardless of truth and justice.

But consumerism isn't just about choice, it's about consumption. About the fact that something that we don't truly need becomes the be-all, end-all - becomes something essential. I've seen a million movies. I've read a jillion comic books (mostly in my childhood and early teenage years, but some within the last decade, more if I could afford them). Yet I cannot get my fill. I must see Batman Begins tomorrow. Or soon. Very soon. How essential is it?

Consumerism is a way-of-life that speaks and operates strictly in currency. It follows the rules of economy. Every time something is chosen (bought, or consumed), something else cannot be afforded.

So far, I'm not saying anything nobody who has taken a cursory poli-sci in high school doesn't know. If you've even made it this far, your question may be, "So what?" The question is important to me largely because I want you to read this. To continue reading this and leave comments in this section telling me how you're reading my blog and you think it's good. That, of all the blogs you've read, this site ranks among the best. And that you'll be around tomorrow. And read all my stuff. And, eventually, you're hooked and this site is your meth. You need a shot of LeftCheek. That is honestly my vision.

It's scary when I put it in that language. I want you to want me. To choose to read this rather than something else. Rather than talking to your wife, your husband, your sons and daughters, your roommate(s), you're reading this. Rather than praying for your friends and confessing your sins. Rather than attending Mass or worship service, or attending to your Sabbath duties. Because every time we choose to partake in consumerism, we decide that something is greater than something else.

I do want to put my best foot forward, again. Always. But, at what price? Maybe I should examine my motives and work toward the best (to practice my writing and strengthen my thinking while working in a community) rather than settling for my norm (To satiate my ego - which I'll never do. Especially not with the traveling going on in this blog.).

Say hi to yours for me.

Quotes

Soccer was invented by European ladies so they would have something to do all day while the men cooked.

- Lecturer, Texan and Propane Advocate, Hank Hill,
from his opus, King of the Hill
Acknowledgement to Pigeon John fan Micah, (look to the top-right) a source of all kinds of awful trivia

I wanna touch the fans like Ron Artest

Deepspace 5
Unique, Just Like Everybody Else

WHAT DO I THINK OF THE JACKSON ACQUITTAL?
Personally, I thought the direction was poor, it moved too slowly, the performances were over-the-top and Culkin was underwhelming. The script was totally implausible. When the verdict was read, it would have been sweet if Jackson had jumped up and performed one of his greatest hits (P.Y.T., maybe?) spontaneously--what a showstopper that would have been! They should have hired a director like Todd Solondz (Happiness) who has a knack for painting sympathetic portraits of child molesters (alleged or otherwise). But the makeup? Oscar-worthy.

Jeffrey Overstreet,
Looking Closer

Americana, the Beautiful

Legacy, Community, Culture. Vol. 1

Read the Prologue

Legacy. This Sunday our church will perform a mass blessing on our youth. The blessing, courtesy of our original youth pastor and now associate pastor, is from the book of Numbers. It is a blessing that God had commanded the priests give to all the children of Israel, the children of the promise.

'The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The LORD lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.'
So they shall put My name on the children of Israel, and I will bless them. (NKJV)

This would continue as a living reminder of the God who sees his people through and the people who live under his grace. Yet it's a fairly rare thing in the evangelical church. How we have managed to bypass generational blessings is indicative of our lack of understanding of other things being passed down through the generations. There is a serious and damaging gap, a chasm maybe, certainly a vacuum that will cease to exist for long. When something good is not moving through that passage, it leaves room for something less. And through that void, an old demon may step in, and in the process call along seven of his friends into the clean, swept house.

In other words, when there is not a generational blessing, there is a generational curse. And in my neck of the "concrete jungle" this is a substantial, lived reality. Lighted liquor stores line the streets alongside silent storefront churches and many architectural houses of God serve as backdrops for sellers selling and hustlers hustling. When the major economic engine of any given neighborhood is comprised of and fueled by illicit activities and death-bartering, we can guarantee that the Holy Sovereign is not shining his face upon us nor are we receiving his peace.



Everything that is borne is born in context. Nothing exists out of nothing unless God specifically calls it. Due to our free will, nearly everything we have been given is directly from the environment. (Everything good in the world points to the goodness of God, the original source. However, in the process of movement through a sullied creation, it has reached us sullied.) Nearly every voice that we hear or call that we obey - consciously or not - is a voice or call from the environment. What happens when, as is the case in the evangelical church, there is only a faint cry of support from a small, distant cloud of witnesses in direct competition with a world of divergent and demonic voices? Can the upward and onward call of the saints hold their own against the powers and principalities of the airwaves when they are so few? The church in context needs to support, undergird and pay homage to its legacy from God onward to the Jewish tradition, to Jesus, and to the Church as a living, breathing, moving being - the Kingdom of God. Certainly she needs to give honor where honor is due: to the ones who have passed before us and the ones who are going on before us.

For the second time in two months...

My computers will not allow me to go to any known blogspots. Apparently, there's some poor soul out there who subscribes to the same internet-blocker that we have at my church office and feels that there are just too many swimsuits and lingeries laying around. God bless that completely over-sensitive person. But, please, do not enforce your morality on the rest of us! So I can't see anybody else's blogs who are also on blogspot nor can I directly answer the couple of comments I've received within the last day. But I can blog. Sorta.

Chicago Public Schools are slow. We're just closing down shop. This extended weekend we will have our graduations. Yeahhhh! Oh, now I worry so much. As a youth director and discipler, I just see so many youth cling to either the God of their parents or the God decidedly not of their parents and then abandon the faith altogether once they try to spread their wings and - quite honestly - abandon their parents along with their childhood. Give 'em a couple years, they start to feel a nostalgia for the old, or a sense that maybe everything wasn't so bad in the first place. They return for a visit or two. Sometimes they rekindle their fire. Often it doesn't last. There has to be a better way of real, sustainable life-transformation. I won't be a youth director for long, but I see my place in the lives of youth being life-long, so I'm trying to learn as much as I can and question as much as I can during this tenure, since it goes hand-in-hand with my job at this point.

I've got a lot of other stuff that I want to write about, but not much time today. Hopefully tomorrow. And let me put the next in the series about L,L,C up here.

peace,
jason

New York Dupes

I love hearing about conspiracies. Honestly, I think the only real conspiracy is the conspiracy of the human heart to try to out-God God, to sin. Satan, in my belief, is very much alive and well, but he don't need no stinking Masons to get his plans through. So, call me crazy, but I don't have much use for conspiracy theories, except for the ocassional laugh. Which Barbara Nicolosi - the director for Act One, a Christian screenwriting and Hollywood networking club - ably provided for me yesterday on her blog.

The following are excerpts from a series of interviews done by a reporter with the Times, none of which was recorded so she generously paraphrased some of it. But I believe the gist is here:

James: So, in the last six months, there have been 37 pairings in the Times of the word "Christian" with words like "scary", "frightening", "theocratic" and "intimidating". My question is, what is it about Christians that makes you so scary?

Barb: (loud, snorting and sneering laughter) Are you kidding me?

James: What?

Barb: I finally get interviewed by the New York Times, and you ask me a question like that?! (more snorting and laughing)

James: (sniffs) Are you laughing because you think it's funny that people find Christians frightening?

Barb: No. I'm laughing because you want me to tell you why you and your friends are scared of Christians -- and I think you should ask your therapist!

Anyway, the interview went on from there. Basically, James was working on a story about how the same conservative Christian think-tanks that were behind the ascendancy of the Religious Right are now trying to take over Hollywood.

Barb: Are they?

James: Aren't they?

Barb: My experience is that the Christian initiatives in Hollywood are all organic - arising out of the industry itself.

James: Yeah, but where is the funding coming from?

Barb: They are all shoe-string underfundeds! Act One's funding comes from all over. Little drops of water from many sources --....

So, during this follow-up interview, Sunday, we had the following exchange.

James: I'm having a hell of a time chasing down the money connections between the DC conservative think-tanks and Hollywood Christians.

Barb: That's because they don't exist.

James: ("I'm no fool" snort) Yeah. How about you tell me 'off the record'?

Barb: Off the record, on the record, we don't get any money from rightwing covert opps!

James: Would you take money from them if they offered?

Barb: From whom?...Heck, I'd take money from Hugh Hefner! I'm just trying to meet payroll for the summer....

Barb: Honestly, the other reason you aren't getting the scoop is people don't have anything to say about this. There is no funneling of money from political Evangelicals to cultural ones. Is it being cagey and paranoid to not having anything to say about a plot that doesn't exist?

James makes an exasperated laughing sound.

A bit later, James asked me about a meeting that Act One co-sponsored last December between our writers and some Christians from DC.

James: Isn't it true that, as a result of the meeting, a feature film project was financed with money coming from DC?

Barb: Are you smoking crack?! No! There was no money! We bought a couple dozen sandwiches -- and lost money on that, as a matter of fact!

James: So, what was the purpose of the meeting?

Barb: The folks from Washington wanted to start a dialogue on some policy issues in the hopes that they could assist folks on this side of the country with government studies about some issues of joint concern.

James: (Ha!) What issue?

Barb: Well, we talked about global AIDS. Such a terrible plague. Hollywood doesn't talk about it enough.

James: Yeah, yeah. What else?

Barb: Oh yeah. There was information about the persecution of Christiansin the Sudan. There's another one you never see on primetime.

James: (depressed sigh) Anything else?

Barb: Yes. Sex.

James: Yeah! Tell me!

Barb: We talked about the problem of pornography and STD's. All about the societal wages of the Sexual Revolution.

James: (humph...)

Ok, so that was most of what she had on it. You can't make stuff like this up, though. I hope she grants my permission to run this, by the way. If not, it's a lot easier asking forgiveness than permission, as we used to say at the Bible college I worked at.

Legacy, Community, Culture. Prologue

Legacy. Community. Culture.

Such words. Such wonderfully resonant words.

Yet almost completely meaningless in my tradition of faith-practice. In the evangelical Christian world - as diverse as we truly are - we have spent so much focus on individualism and liberties (and the deity of them combined) that the above-mentioned have no functional place. So when these words of legacy, community and culture are bandied about, some of us may get misty-eyed. Be we so rarely practice these ideas (worldviews that are not, in fact, high concepts but ways of life) that we have no vision of their appearance.

And when I say we, I mostly think of me. But isn't that it? Isn't that the point? All throughout history, people have been people, thought of in terms of their tribal identity, thought of as a part of something that is whole. Of course there has always been selfishness and greed. But those were addressed as the spades they were, not the norm de rigeur they are today, not the fundamental building blocks of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness they are today. Historically, even royalty devised itself as the collective head of the collective community. And although it is appreciatively arguable that that way of thinking is dangerous (another form of false deism), is the contemporary way of governance (politics by rule of popularity with the most selves) any better, any safer, saner or healthier? If the opinion polls (the de facto contemporary method of governance in action) are to be believed, the US is on the verge of in-civil war on any given day, on any given issue. And certainly, these days, the Britons and the Franks would be more than obliged to hand out free weapons to both sides.

The 55

extending to fragmented
parcels of land
like the expressway
i can't touch what you touch
i can't smell or feel
the ways of the backroads

rumor's that we connect somewhere
and every once in a while i see
a glimpse of you
through the cyclist and
his son,
the chevy and its ton
off and to the right

my shoulder

and i wonder
do we share the same vista
do we stretch & ache beneath the same canvas?

Explanations

I have been wracking out over this one uber-post. Another essay which, generally speaking, is another long, long read. And I'm not near done. But in the meantime, everything else is blocked by it. (Ok, I had an elaborate and semi-funny one this morning about the Pistons - in fact, my doubts about them - but then God told me that I shouldn't. Y'know, be more mindful of Cee Bee Ree Vee. Yet I ignored the groaning in my spirit for a groaning in my belly. And then the server broke down again [too much wattage here].) But then I had a thought: Why not serialize it? Edible pieces. Duhh, right? So the piece, starting tonight with an intro is composed of some musing on legacy, community, and culture and how the American evangelical church - and me within it - have utterly failed to live up to these biblical commands.

The second post I'll put up tonight is this week's poem. I feel much more satisfied with this one, mainly because its closer to its ambitions. Which is, of course, small. Stream-of-consciousness with a tad bit of editing. Like it, love it, squeeze it. Doesn't too much matter.

And thirdly, I just felt a need to kind of explain myself. Most of my posts have been very Christian-centric in nature. I'm sorry if people are not feeling that. I don't come as an apologist, necessarily, but I do write what's on my heart. And at this period of time, Jesus and the Church are big on my heart. I think we (the Church) have done some horribly grievous acts and have stepped aside way too often. (Someone has said that the opposite of love isn't hate, it's inaction.) Yet, I also believe and can testify that we have been a part of the greatest actions in history too. I want to be a voice crying out in the e-wilderness for those great actions. But also, and this may be more relevant to my particular space and calling, I want to give a clearer picture of Christianity to those who think they may know about Christianity. I want to point a picture to the most beautiful person ever to walk the face of this earth and to the eccentric crowd that is trying to take his yoke upon them. And I want to give a more balanced picture of it than what is presented in tv screens all across the land (whether it be an R. Kelly video or a certain mega-church that says that we should dream big to align ourselves with the purposes God supposedly has for us, to be rich while others languish in poverty). That's my aim, for now.

peace,
jason

Of course you know I haaaad to include this cheap shot:

Generational Defining Films and Music

Somebody, (Ok, Jeffrey Overstreet, a truly great film critic of the Christian persuasion who is the Ebert of Christianity Today's movie website) is asking for opinions on what are some truly generational-defining movies and albums of the ages.

What set it off was a strange encounter of the psyche. A Gen X'er realizing that the younger padwans weren't really affected by Star Wars like us slightly older geeks were. My love of movies is still tremendously influenced by my love and grasp of the original trilogy. So the question is put to task, What are some of the movies which influenced the generations being raised in them, ranging back through the decades? The second, related question, would be, what albums also had a huge impact on their respective generations, such as the way Nevermind or Thriller did for those in their twenties / early thirties?

I'll resist the temptation to post a pic of Darth Vader here.

I make no such promises concerning Dark Helmet.

Poem of the Weak

Ok, as you can probably tell from the title, this is a cheat. I'm nowhere near done with it, and doing a new poem a week is pretty danged hard. Which is something I used to do. But nowhere near all of them were ready for publication. Neither is this one. Now, I don't like to be sloppy about my posts - that's what the comments section is for - but this has a line in it that I've liked and been trying to tie into a poem for a while now. I like to think it's evocative. Of course, I like to think that I'm evocative. But this one, as I'm writing it, I'm kind of thinking about two questions:

1) What price freedom?

2) At the point of our freedom, then what?

Anyway, the title-less, very short, very incomplete part I:

Rent in two by reluctant emancipation
As American as Ford's
Given all we could piece,

Nature, we want more.

For we have been in need,
of all sons living freed,
and prized in sheols we dug too deep.

Knowing nothing but the hope
it won't be this time;
Immersion in mercy
bathed in rouge liquid life.

God Getting Small

The earliest false teaching – or heresy – that would arise within the Christian tradition was a strain of Gnosticism. Actually, several strains of it. Gnosticism is a belief that there is secret knowledge out there that can and should be known solely by a select and elite group. Jesus the Messiah countered this, as my Intro to Philosophy instructor noted, when he said that his listeners should, “let everything that is whispered in your ear be shouted from the rooftops.”

The strains of Gnosticism that snaked their ways through the small churches in first century A.D. pax romana concerned a belief that Jesus either wasn’t fully man or fully God. And, believe it or not, this same belief system has existed through history and infects us even these days, even in the Evangelical Protestant churches.

I have here, to my left, a study Bible by a popular publisher of the Evangelical tradition. This morning, as I was making some notes to study for tonight on Luke 2:40 and 52 (“And the Child grew and became strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon Him.” “And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.”) I noticed that this study Bible had no studying on this topic. The little line that was included on the first verse quoted here basically says, “And that’s the last of all there is about Jesus as an infant.” But it will go on and on about claims to Jesus’ divinity. As it should.

Yet, it’s like we’re scared of God being a man in concrete terms. Meaning that, as a man, he poo-pooed, he farted. I used to always imagine Jesus was more like Superman. They never show Superman taking a dump. He barely eats. He never needs to shave. In all reality, Superman is a Super Being who doesn’t need to do all of these mundane things because of his god-like body composition. Heck, he doesn’t need to work out to retain that figure. How does he do it? It’s like, if we say that Superman had a form of emotions – like unrequited love for Lois Lane, a controlled anger towards Lex Luthor or the Joker or annoyance at Bizzarro Superman – than these emotions can be elevated, they can be Superman-like, they can be God-like.

But if Superman were to utilize the public restrooms in their intended purposes, then that would degrade Superman.

Now exchange Jesus for Superman and you have an idea of how the Western church has regarded Jesus bar-Joseph of Nazareth.

Other ‘gods’ or god-like figures (‘Demon’ comes from an old Greek term meaning ‘divine power’) have tried to make themselves larger and bigger (Note not only the fall of Lucifer or even the fall of Adam and Eve [proto-humans], but also the Greek gods themselves, human-like beings who constantly squabbled for more power.) But our God – our unnamable Supreme ‘I Am’ who proved himself the greatest of the greats in creating the universe out of nil at the drop of a syllable and then would drown the whole world save the inhabitants of a small cruise ship made of tar and wood and lacking rudders or sails – decided to shrink in scope. First, he decides to hinge his legacy on the offspring of a childless and barren couple. Which grows into a small ethnic group. In slavery to a once-mighty nation. After about 500 years of relative freedom, this people group, already torn in two and not living up to its legacy status, is thrown into captivity again. Two tribes out of an already obscure – and weird – nation of twelve survive and return to rebuild their walls, their temple, and their legacy. And then there’s another four hundred years of silence from God. In which time they are again and again besieged until they fall under submission to the military might of the Roman Empire.

The mighty Jehovah has gone small. But his faithful followers are clinging to a hope – a promised Deliverer who will free them from captivity – literally, captivity. They aren’t looking for someone to save their souls, but to save their society. They aren’t looking for a Kingdom of Heaven, but a Kingdom of Jerusalem, a Kingdom of Here and Now, or epic Davidic and Solomonic proportions. They are looking for an obvious Priest, Prophet and King. Someone who looks like a Priest, a Prophet and a King.

Into this atmosphere, God’s gone small again.

All I Need Is One Mic, And a Brick Wall

You know, I just noticed something. Chicago's got some kick-butt semi-pro teams. First, much love goes out to the local Arena Football League team (that my roommate worked with in equipment) the Rush. They're in the quarters, after winning the other day. Then there's the perennial favorites, International Hockey League champs the Wolves and Major League Soccer cats (although they have been slumping as of late) the Fire (also coolest Chicago-related name, much better than my alma mater's University of Illinois @ Chicago Flames). And of course, the number one Chi-town semi-pro team, the White Sox.

Ahhhh, the game yesterday. The raison d'etre for baseball. Starting pitcher, Mark Buerhle, is pulled one out into the ninth. Sox ahead by one. Relief pitcher gets the bases loaded and two runs in before the second out with a strike-out. Our closing pitcher is brought in to retire the side. Which he does. Quite a few fans (When was the last time Sox Park had nearly a sold-out crowd? In first place not just of the division, but in all of major-league baseball AND a holiday. Still barely full.) left early, but not as many as you'd think. (Yes, I pointed at them. And generally made an * of myself. People in front of me must've thunk me drunk. I was having a gay old time.) The rest of us hoped for one of those last-second miracles.

A single. A pop-up. Two pinch hitters, after the one who came to replace the once-mighty, and now just returning, and now freshly injured Frank Thomas. A steal. Which helped lead to a walk. A sacrifice bunt which led to runners on second and third. Two outs. A full count. And then a line drive that hit ground before the outfield could grab it and throw it to home. By then both runners were home. The place went bananas. B-a-n-a-n-a-s. Bananas.

'Cuz there ain't no holler back, girrrrrrrrrrrl, there ain't no holler back, girrrrrrrrrrrrrl!

Traffic was on NBC tonight, but it got preempted by a major whooping sound coming out of Detroit. Speaking of the realpolitik of Traffic, however, reminds me of a joke.

A bipartisan group of congressmen were presiding over a quarterly review of the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). The executive officer of the NEA was highlighting some of the more conservative and popular pieces while trying to blow over some of the more controversial pieces. One prominent senator, however, urged him to go over some works the officer had rushed past. It was a series of photographs that cleverly parodied and commented on Michelangelo's nudes.

The senator asked how the NEA can fund such blatant examples of pornography.

The officer, indignant yet trying to maintain a shred of sobriety, asked of his accuser, "Can you tell me, Mr. Senator, how you can make such a clear distinction between what is called art and what is called pornography?"

The senator ceded, "Well, now, I may not know much about art. But I know what I like."

Thank you, you've all been wonderful.

Que Bueno, Bono

OK, truth time. I'm not the biggest U2 fan. But that's kind of like saying I'm not the biggest Star Wars fan. Just because I don't dress like a bounty hunter or a wookie doesn't mean I haven't seen the original trilogy five kajillion times ("20 Trillion dollars? It's 1968, that type of money doesn't even exist yet! You might as well ask for a hundred cadrillion, quajillion dollars!").
And just because the music isn't as good as it was does not hinder the classics from being The Classics. The Joshua Tree and Acthung, Baby! are two of the greatest albums of all time, hands-down. Stevie Wonder has released a remarkable slew of duds since his mid-70's glory days, but Innervisions, Songs in the Key of Life, et. al. are great enough to keep him in the Pantheon forever. Ditto Jordan's pre-Wizard days.

And now Bono garners the attention and respect of dignitaries the world over for social causes. And he's becoming more and more articulate about his beliefs. Not that we should confuse Bono for Augustine or Bonhoeffer, but I found this post an enjoyable read this morning. He sounds like a decent Baptist preacher here, not too high-falutin' and not someone I would completely agree with (psssshh.), but someone with a bit of verve and a mission, to talk about and try to live under grace.

Archival

I've been fairly busy with e'rything, yet in the words of Al Green, Muddy Waters and Joe Black (where did Brad Pitt pick up that accent?), "Everything's gonna be alright."
Of course. But I figured that I've been doing this blog here thang for about a month and a half and I wrote quite a bit. And some stuff I actually kind of like. So, in anticipation of the big day and barbeques (two of 'em, back to back) tomorrow, in addition to one today, and a Sox game Monday, I probably won't have a lot of leisure time to write the blog I want to on Steve Taylor for a little while. So, maybe it'd be good, I reasoned with the president of my fan club, to have a retrospective for all the throngs of fans laying outside the door in eager anticipation of any bits of meat that I may throw at their feet. If you have not guessed by now, of course, the president of my fanclub is me, as are all concurrent members. I tried to get Adam and Christine to join the club, but they felt the price too steep. I say the rewards are phenomenal and worth it.

Stepping way back in the day to mid-April, two double-Oh cinco, we shall begin with "One Day We Shall All Be Free," one of my first attempted - and somewhat successful, on a small scale - spoken words. Um, poetry, that is. "Constructs" is one of my favorite poems that still survive, although I need to work on the spacing. Like a lot of the other poetry here, it was done a couple years ago when I had a fire under my feet. I need that again. Hopefully, I'll discipline myself to publish a new poem a week. So that means a brand new one probably two out of every three weeks. But that's for later. Blah.

Because I'm sooo important, I'll include my first semi-essay in this. It was kind of a rant. No, no it wasn't. It was about communion practices and how I see them in my church and, again, hopefully tied into universal themes. it was all also written in smalls because that's how i write my emails, get it? and then the next day i read how nobody'll read your stuff if you don't puctuate properly. So I learned from my mistakes and I have my own fanclub. Ain't I swell?

Then there's my poseur environmentalist post. I got really ticked at this stupid, stupid email that my brilliant (literally, I'm not making fun of him) little brother forwarded from some stupid gas-drinking SUV driving *. Hopefully, you can read it. Maybe I'll change the colors. Then again, maybe not. Then there's Phoenix, which is about... Hah, fooled ya, ain't I? I don't like telling people what it's supposed to mean or whatever. They're short enough, and I think they're pretty straight-forward and accessible. Of course I'm talking about my poems, not my essays or even some of my comments, which are usually longer and more self-indulgent than a U2 concert.

Some of these posts are just some quotes or passages I stole from somebody else. Which is good, for me, because that's one of the reasons I wanted to create a blog, as a place to store some of these treasures before they are lost to my incredible, shrinking memory. And I know I complain about this more than Jeanneane Garafalo about being plump in showbiz (What? Am I lying??), but somebody took this book and a bunch of other stuff, so I'm glad I at least got these passages from Phillip Yancey's ruminations on the utter importance of the Old Testament on modern life. Then there's my one on the passing of the popes. David Dark, who I keep bragging about.

Practice writing is another huge reason I decided to try out and continue trying the Blog (Aaaaaahhhhh! Run children! Hide, mothers, hide your babies and your husbands before they get enveloped by the Blog!). This is an almost stream-of-consciousness meditation on the earth-shattering and eye-opening nature of Jesus. Too be quite honest, I like this one.

And then, for those fans who need to be reassured that I don't have a sense of humor but I only borrow it from movies and what I read in books (much the same my whole paltry existence is lived), Kung Fu Hustle is the number 1 recommended movie of the year so far. Wait, number 2 after Hotel Rwanda. Although I haven't seen a lot of other movies yet, it certainly beats the mess out of the Interpreter (crapaloozer). A few other movies seem good (the new Star Wars, Crash) but I don't think they'll rank higher at this moment. Or, at least that's what I read somewhere.

Ballroom Blitz