Monthly Archives: June 2017

“OF ART WORK AND FRAMES: IN PRAISE OF BOUNDARIES”

“BEECH”

“Where my imaginary line

Bends square in woods, an iron spine

And pile of real rocks have been founded.

And off this corner in the wild,

Where these are driven in and piled,

One tree, by being deeply wounded,

Has been impressed as Witness Tree

And made commit to memory

My proof of being not unbounded.

Thus truth’s established and borne out,

Though circumstanced with dark and doubt—

Though by a world of doubt surrounded.

THE MOODIE FORESTER”  (Robert Frost)

 

My wife and I went to a Civil War reenactment.  We visited with friends and had a good time.

There were various crafts and activities in the town square.  My sweetheart talked me into trying my hand at “spin art.”  I would call “spin art” “art for those who can’t do art.”  In other words, it was precisely the sort of (non)art I could do!

I was advised as to what colors to use, and where to drizzle the colors.  With a great deal of supervision, I did a fairly good Frisbee, although it looked a bit like what I imagine an L.S.D.-induced vision of an eye might look like.  As I said, I am not an artist.

The seller of the Frisbee probably felt sorry for me, and let me do a little sheet of paper for free.  It looked outstandingly mediocre when I was done with it.  However, my radically generous sweetheart said it was good.  Since she is a good artist, I was very humbly pleased.

However, I thought she was going more than a bit overboard when she wanted to buy a frame for it.  When my Princess gets an idea in her head, she is harder to stop than a Trane—or a train.

I thought that buying a frame for my spin junk . . . , I mean spin art . . . was a mistake.  The fact that she had bought the frame at The Dollar Tree (where everything really does cost a dollar) somewhat mollified my stingy attitude.  And I have to admit that, with a nice little frame around it, my spin art did look much better.  Frames don’t make art, but they can make art look better.

I’ve never liked boundaries, but this little vignette helped me to think differently about boundaries, borders, and frames.  Perhaps frames or borders don’t simply limit art.  Perhaps they enhance art.

In life also, frames or borders are important.  In Psalm 16:6, the psalmist says, “The boundary lines have fallen to me in pleasant places.”  Apparently, the psalmist didn’t simply love his territory.  He even loved the limits of his territory.

I have boundaries, limits, frames, in connection with my body, my mind, my time, my finances.  Do I love the limits?  Or, am I always wanting more?

That great philosopher Clint Eastwood said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”  Yes!  Perhaps that’s a huge part of the art of living.

“BEYOND HOLY WILLFULNESS: LOVING GOD BECAUSE GOD LOVES ME”

Richard Rhor wrote some much-needed words for me in a post I read of his this morning.  (Okay!  So perhaps Rhor did have me particularly in mind, but it feels that way!)

In the Franciscan reading of the Gospel, there is no reason to be religious or to “serve” God except “to love greatly the One who has loved us greatly,” as Saint Francis said. . . .  Religion is not about heroic will power or winning or being right. This has been a counterfeit for holiness in much of Christian history. True growth in holiness is a growth in willingness to love and be loved and a surrendering of willfulness, even holy willfulness (which is still “all about me”).

Yes, I fear—and more than half suspect— that even my “holy willfulness” . . .  is still all about me.  So, is my willfulness really even holy?  The question answers itself.

Many years ago, my mom said to me, “Sometimes, I think that you think too much about improving yourself, and not enough about other people!”

I have heard it said that, if you throw a brick at a bunch of dogs and one of them yelps, it means you hit it.  When Mom said that, I definitely yelped.  (I am not advocating, by the by, throwing bricks at dogs!)

I am going to let Rohr have the last word.  “Doing anything and everything solely for God is certainly the most purifying plan for happiness I can imagine. It changes the entire nature of human interaction and eliminates most conflict.”  (For his entire meditation, see his website and the meditation for June 22, 2017, accessed 06-22-2017.)

“IMAGINING DIFFERENT FUTURES”

I have signed up to receive daily TED talks in my e mail in box.  My first one was a talk by Anab Jain, and was titled “Why We Need to Imagine Different Futures.”

I am not all that big on the future.  I’m still trying to decide if I like the present.  Don’t even get me started on the past!

However, I thought to myself, “Well, I’ve signed up for this, so I’d better listen to it.”  I’m glad that I did. (If you want to see and hear the entire TED talk, go to https://www.ted.com/talks/anab_jain_why_we_need_to_imagine_different_futures, accessed 06-20-2017.)

Jain gave a number of examples of her team’s research in various fields.  However, I was especially intrigued by some of her comments that are, I think, widely applicable.

For example, concerning climate change, she spoke of exploring different “possible futures.”  Such exploration tries to “. . . prepare for that future by developing tools and attitudes that can help us find hope—hope that can inspire action.”

. . .

“. . . [C]reating concrete experiences can bridge the disconnect between today and tomorrow.  By putting ourselves into different possible futures, by becoming open and willing to embrace the uncertainty and discomfort that such an act can bring, we have the opportunity to imagine new possibilities.  . . . We can move beyond hope into action.”

Christians should be among the forward-looking people in the world.  Instead, we are among the most backward-looking folks.  Years ago, I remember (!?!   See!  I’m looking back!) someone speaking of “. . . the seven last words of the church: “We’ve never done it that way before!”  Churches tend to forget the truth of a Will Rogers’ saying: “The good old days ain’t so good any more, and they probably never was.”

To imagine different futures doesn’t mean ignoring the past, nor does it mean that we don’t live in the present.  Rather, imagining different futures means “. . . developing tools and attitudes that can help us find hope—hope that can inspire action.”  It is only when we begin to develop tools, attitudes, and hope that our actions can really make a difference in the present and for the future.

“JESUS’ SELF-CARE”

A friend who reads this blog always sends me appreciative, thoughtful, and thought-provoking e mails.  Concerning my post about loving and respecting God, others, all of creation, and myself, he noted how tricky it is to balance these things.  I absolutely agree.

My reply to his e mail was as follows:

“Dear James,

Yes, indeed!  It is tricky—perhaps even beyond tricky!  I most certainly have not made a good start on this.

In this regard (as in all others), Jesus our LORD is our redeemer, example, guide, friend, and forgiver.

I think I feel another blog post coming on (although it could be just a stomach bug) about how Jesus took care of himself.  I had never thought about that until your e mail.  Thanks!”

Generally, it is better to think before you speak or act, and I do try to do that (with varying degrees of success).  However, sometimes I think of things after I have spoken or written something.  After I had written the bit about Jesus being our example, I suddenly realized that I had never thought of Jesus as an example of balanced self-care.  Never!

I had thought about Jesus being an example of caring for others and for loving God, but had never considered that Jesus also took appropriate care of himself as well.

Jesus rested when he was tired.  He could even sleep in a no-doubt cramped boat in the middle of a storm (Matthew 8:24).

Jesus ate when he was hungry  (Luke 10:38-42).  Indeed, many of Jesus’ teachings were given while he was enjoying a meal with someone or a group.

Jesus reached out for companionship (Mark 14:32-34).

Jesus sometimes spoke up when he felt that he or those around him were being treated unfairly (Mark 14:48-49; Luke 18:15-17).

Now, of course self-care had its limits with Jesus, as indeed it should for all of us.  Jesus spoke of giving up his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45).  For each of us, self-care must be balanced by a willingness for self-sacrifice.  There are times when we all need to be willing to risk everything for someone else.  And yet, our basic instinct must be not self-preservation, but rather self-care.  Only if we are taking appropriately good care of ourselves are we able to sacrifice ourselves.  A firefighter, in order to have a shot at saving others, must be in good shape physically and mentally.  Only so can she risk her life in order to save the life of another.

“DOING SO WELL, BUT THEN, . . . OOPS!”  

 

Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.”  (Proverbs 16:18, King James Version.)

Look, Mom, no hands!”  (Nine-year-old boy, doing tricks on his bicycle.)

“Look, son, a broken arm!”  (Mom of the nine-year-old boy, at the emergency room, after the doctor had read the x-ray.)

"I learned that it is better, a thousand-fold, for a proud man to fall and be humbled, than to hold up his head in his pride and fancied innocence. 
I learned that he that will be a hero, will barely be a man; that he that will be nothing but a doer of his work, is sure of his manhood. 
In nothing was my ideal lowered, or dimmed, or grown less precious; I only saw it too plainly, to set myself for a moment beside it. 
Indeed, my ideal soon became my life; whereas, formerly, my life had consisted in a vain attempt to behold, if not my ideal in myself, at least myself in my ideal".
(George MacDonald, Phantastes, 166.)

I was doing well, I really was.  I was hustling to sit people in my station, which wasn’t the best in the restaurant.  However, if I look pitiful enough, I can often persuade (guilt?) people into sitting there.  I was getting the orders right.  After about an hour, I said to myself, “I’m doing pretty well tonight!  Maybe I’m getting the hang of this serving business.”

I immediately discovered that I was entirely premature in my self-congratulatory thoughts.

I seated a grandma and grandpa and their little grandson in one of my booths—and proceeded to make three mistakes: I forgot to give them their silverware until the food came out.  (They had to ask for silverware!)  I didn’t get a salad out in a timely fashion.  I forgot that the little guy got applesauce.

It seems that every time I think I’m doing well, I’m not.

So, what is the solution?  Not, I think, believing that I am not going to do well in a given situation.  Rather, I think that the solution is to simply focus on what I am doing, and striving to do it well.  Not beating myself up, and not evaluating.  Just being a doer of the work.

Pride precedes a fall.  Yes, it does!

So, I apologized profusely, and offered to give them a “d e s s e r t” at my own expense.  (I spelled it in case they didn’t want the little guy to have any dessert.  Hey, I used to be a dad of small children!)

I did give them a small dessert, paying for it out of my tip money, and they went away fairly content, I suppose.  In fact, they left me a six-dollar tip!

Self-congratulation is always a dodgy business.  Humility is a choice, but it isn’t really optional.  Sometimes, failure is a wonderful reminder of this fact.

“CONCERNING LAUGHTER AND CIRCLING BUZZARDS”

 She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.”  (  Proverbs 31:25, New Living Translation, concerning the woman of excellence.)

6 And Sarah declared, ‘God has brought me laughter. All who hear about this will laugh with me.

  7 Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse a baby? Yet I have given Abraham a son in his old age!’”  (Genesis 21:6-7, New Living Translation, Sarah [who was 90 years old (!) after the birth of her only-born son, Isaac, whose name means “Laughter.”)

A lady told me a very funny story to me after church yesterday.  Her husband plays on a seniors’ softball league, and many of the wives go to watch—and to visit with one another.

One day, when the old guys were coming off the field, their wives were laughing uproariously.  When the men asked what the ladies were laughing so hard about, the women just pointed to the sky.  Apparently, there were a bunch of buzzards circling around!

Laughter is a wonderful thing.  It is on my to-be-and-to-do list as an every-single-day goal.

Of course, there are lots of painful and serious things in the world.  Sometimes, all we can do is just stand there, like a cow in a cold rain.  Laughter is not always an option, either for us or for those we love.

But often, we can laugh—even at very serious realities.  Especially at very serious realities.  Why do we laugh about politics, marriage, aging, sex, and death?  Because they are too serious to take too seriously!

I am not a very humorous person.  (I once made the mistake of asking my wife, “Why don’t you ever laugh at my jokes?”  She shot back with, “If you’d tell one, I would!”  Now that was funny!)  Usually, about the only time people laugh at me is when I’m being totally serious.

And, of course, I am most certainly no researcher in the field of humor research, though there are people who do serious research in the field of humor.  I am not joking!  A Ph.D. in joke-ology: Imagine that!

There really are some serious reasons to laugh.  Even such a sober and respected organization as the Mayo Clinic recognizes some of the health benefits of laughter (http://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/stress-management/in-depth/stress-relief/art-20044456, accessed 06-19-2017).  I’ll just mention a couple of the benefits that I have personally experienced.

I suspect that laughter is our way of holding serious issues at arm’s length, so that we can get a better look at them.  Taking everything seriously all the time destroys our perspective.  Laughter helps us to regain our perspective.  I think that laughter may even help us to think of other possible solutions to some of our most vexing problems.

That may be related to the fact that humor helps us to relax.  Only when I am relaxed can I think of other possible solutions to my problems.  In any case, relaxing is an important thing to do.  Most of us, I suspect, need to practice the fine art of relaxing a whole lot more than we do.

I was once at a very tense meeting at a church.  We were considering making a major financial commitment.  There was a lot of discussion, both pro and con.  I realized that churches had split over much more trivial things.

When the vote was taken, the ayes had it by one vote!  I held my breath.  I think everyone who was there held his or her breath.

And then, one of the people who had opposed the expenditure made some outrageously funny remark that I can’t even remember now.  It may have been something to the effect of a lighthearted “Well, we’ve settled that one!”  Everyone laughed.  And suddenly, we all knew that we could go on being one church.

Have you laughed yet today?

 

“THE WISE OLD MIRACLE-WORKER, AND THE YOUNG SKEPTIC”

Miracle is simply the religious name for event.”  (Friedrich D. Schleiermacher, On Religion: Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers.)

The story is told of a wise old miracle worker.  A skeptical young man went to the old man, and demanded, “Show me a miracle, so that I may believe in God!”

Without uttering a word, the old man planted a seed in a nearby pot.  Immediately the seed grew into a tall green plant.  In less than a minute, the plant had produced a lovely flower.

The young skeptic was in awe.  “It is a miracle!” he exclaimed.

But the wise old miracle worker looked at the young man with compassion, though his words were stern.  “Young fool!” he said, “The miracle of life, and growth, and beauty is all around you all the time.  All I did was speed up the process in this one case.”

Perhaps the process for all good things is a miracle.  Maybe all true beauty is an amazing thing.  Maybe miracles are in the eye of the beholder—like beauty.

That was apparently Friedrich Schleiermacher’s point.  If you’re amazed, an event is a miracle.  I don’t entirely agree with Schleiermacher.  Even if no one is around to observe an amazing thing, it is still a miracle.  However, I do think Schleiermacher makes a valid observation—as long as it is not pressed too far.  Miracle, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

Of course, life could be an accident, and beauty could be an illusion.  However, I’ve had several accidents (automotive and other kinds of accidents as well), and I have yet to find an accident that leads to life or beauty.

I wonder what miracles will happen in my world and in yours today.  I wonder if we will be aware of these miracles.  Perhaps awareness itself is the one of the greatest miracles.

“PUTTING YOUR HOUSE ON A DIET”  

 

Getting rid of household stuff and clothes is like putting your house on a diet.” (Suzanne Phillips)

Question: How do you eat an elephant?

Answer:  One bite at a time.”  (Source unknown.)

 

I am in love with simplicity.  However, I worship from afar.  Simplicity and I do not have a personal, intimate relationship.

I guess you could say that I am in love with the idea of simplicity.  The practice of simplicity is another matter.

My friend Suzanne’s comment about “putting your house on a diet” reminds me of how cluttered my work and sleeping area really is.  I would blame the clutter on someone else, except for the fact that I am the only one who is ever up here.  (That’s not entirely true.  My wife comes up occasionally and scares the liver out of me.  Whenever she does, she assures me that she was not trying to scare me—after she pries me off the ceiling.)

But it’s more than clutter in my work and sleeping space.  My whole life needs to go on a diet.

Take my use of time for example: How could I cut some fat of my use of time?  I’m not talking about taking the enjoyment out of my life.  I’m talking about using time more wisely, so that I can enjoy life even more.

Then, there is putting my words on a diet.  I talk too much.  I have known this for a long time.  I’ve wanted to change, but I haven’t.  (That is all I’ve got to say about that.)

They say that confession is good for the soul.  However, I can only stand so much goodness at a time.

So, how can I go on an effective diet?  Wonderful plans and crash diets don’t work for me.  I won’t stay on them.

What does work (when I work it) is making small changes.  My resolve is small, so small changes are what I can manage.

So, right now, I am trying to make small changes in my work/sleeping area.  I moved the recycling container into a nearby storage area.  I am v  e  r  y    s  l  o  w  l   y  thinning out my clothes, taking them to Good Will.

I am banking on the fact that, when I challenge myself to make small, incremental changes, I am much more likely to actually change.

A few years ago, when I had been walking fairly regularly, I decided to run a short way.  The first time, I ran a tenth of a mile—if that.  Then, I resumed walking.  The next day, I decided to run one driveway further than I had the day before.  Each day, I tried to run just a little further.

Eventually, I decided to run a marathon.  In fact, I ran two years in a row.  I didn’t run fast, but I ran (at least part of the time).

It may well be that all important changes, all transformations, boil down to making small changes.

 

 

 

DTEB, “TAKING THE OLD MAN OUT OF THE DRIVER’S SEAT”

. . . put off . . . the old man . . .” (Ephesians 4:22, King James Version).

 

I had an interesting dream last night.  Well, it began as a dream, swiftly transitioned into a nightmare, and then became a dream again.  Now that I am more or less awake, I regard it as a cautionary tale.

In my dream, my wife and I were going somewhere with “an older couple” (which means older than us).  The older guy was driving.  I was riding shotgun.  Shortly after getting up to speed, we ran off the road.  I looked over at the driver, and the old man had fallen asleep.

We went down a fairly steep embankment, but the car didn’t roll or start fishtailing.  I felt panicky, but tried to keep my wits about me.  We were off the road, but in a flat place now.  I tried to wake up the driver, but he was sound asleep.  Finally, I grabbed the steering wheel, and applied the brake.  It took an unbearably long time, but eventually, I was able to stop the car.  The old man woke up, but I drove the rest of the way to our destination.

Then, I woke up from my dream.

In the passage from Ephesians that I quoted at the top of this post, Paul encourages the believers to whom he is writing to “put off the old man.”  Modern translations try to convey the thought, rather than translating literally.  I get that.  It is a good way to go about translation.  More modern folks are likely to read it and understand the gist of it. One modern translation, the New American Standard,  has “. . . lay aside the old self . . . ,” which is certainly a fine translation.

 

On the other hand, I am still rather fond of the King James translation.  The Greek word for “man” is “anthropon,” the general Greek word for human beings.  We get our modern word “anthropology” from the Greek word.

 

So, why do I take my dream/nightmare as a cautionary tale?  I didn’t have a fatal crash yesterday during my waking hours.  But I did run off the road, in terms of my life.  I didn’t kill anyone or do anything illegal or horribly immoral.  However, . . .

However, I didn’t accomplish a lot of things on my to-be-and-to-do list, and I played a lot of computer games.

And I mixed up a Pillsbury Plus cake mix, and ate it raw.  I thought that I intended to just eat a little of it.  And I did!  And then a little more.  And then a lot more.  And then, I said to myself, “The refrigerator is pretty full.  Why don’t I put this in a smaller container, so that it won’t take up quite so much space?”  I decided to do that, but I also decided to take a few more bites.  Then, I said to myself, “Hey, I’m almost done with this, so why don’t I really economize on refrigerator space (and dishes), and polish this off?”  So, that is what I did!

Did you know that cake batter expands in your stomach, just like it does in the oven?  It does!  I probably could have made room for the cake batter in the refrigerator.  I certainly made room for it in my stomach.

The point of this sad little tale is that, even though I had not done anything horrible, and even though I did get some worthwhile things done, I had put the old man—my old man—in the driver’s seat.  I had done so by practicing gluttony and laziness, which the Catholic Church recognizes as two of the mortal sins.  The old man, even when he is asleep, can do a great deal of damage.  However the good, but sobering, news is this: I never actually have to let the old man drive.

So, I woke up this morning after my nightmare determined to put off the old man, to not let him in the driver’s seat today.  I woke up determined to let the new man, the man I am in Christ, do the driving today.

In this same passage in Ephesians, Paul instructs his hearers about what they are to do, once they have “put off the old man” (4:23).  Paul writes, “Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes.”  The Greek word for “renew” can also mean “to become young again.”  I think that I have discovered the fountain of youth!

So far today, so good for me!

How about you, gentle reader?  Who is in your driver’s seat right now: the old man or the Holy Spirit who makes you young again?

“WHAT WE LISTEN TO”

Oh be careful little ears what you hear!”  (Words from a Christian song for very small children.)

  4 “Listen, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone.

  5 And you must love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength.

  6 And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-6, New Living Translation.)

So pay attention to how you hear. To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given. But for those who are not listening, even what they think they understand will be taken away from them.” (Luke 8:18, New Living Translation.)

I have big ears.  I am the first to admit that.  But the size of my ears isn’t the crucial matter; what matters is how I use my big ears.

This morning, I was listening to National Public Radio’s show “Morning Edition” and a bit of NPR’s program “1A.”  There was a lot of bad news.  (I almost typed “bad noose”—a Freudian near slip, if ever there was one!)  Some of the news items involved a terrible fire in a high rise in London, a shooting of Republicans who were practicing baseball, and the questioning of Jeff Sessions, our current attorney general.

I was finishing up the dishes, as it began to rain.  I felt that gentle internal nudge, the one I’ve learned to call “God’s leading,” suggesting that I turn off the radio and listen to the rain.

And the rain was beautiful.

I am not suggesting that I or anyone else should not listen to bad, uncomfortable news, or news that contradicts our own opinions and values.  We should.  But I wonder sometimes if we listen enough to the rain, or to our significant others, or to the songs of birds.

Jesus taught that we should be careful what we listened to, as well as how we listen.  I need to (we need to) pay attention to the very process of our listening.  In the Luke 8:18 passage that I quoted as part of the lead-in to this post, the verbs for “hearing” are in the present tense.  The Greek present tense often suggests continual, repetitive action.  Learning to listen is an ongoing process.  To paraphrase an old commercial tagline for milk, “We never outgrow our need for listening.”

Despite my big ears, I am not a particularly good listener.  But I would like to become one.  To listen, to pay attention with the ears, is a wonderful gift we could give to ourselves and to one another.

Care to join me in a new organization?  Perhaps we could call it the “Everyone Attends Regularly Society” (E.A.R.S. for short.)

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