I have a very difficult time sleeping, as most of you know. It probably relates to my inability to truly relax. However, we have just arrived somewhere, that were it not for the fact we are just staying overnight, I might have actually been able to truly rest. I found myself, lying on a hammock under grapevines and orange trees, just barely, tinily, infintesimally, creepingly so, to begin to not think, not fret about the world, not ponder, not wonder about the church and her problems, not consider God's concern for the world, not do anything. I didn't even have the motivation to leave to see a bit of the regular tourist attractions.
However, a thunderstorm soon broke both of those choices anyways - had to scramble out of that hammock and head for dry docks.... perhaps one day I could try that again...
Monday, June 06, 2011
Turkey III
There are tons of "biblical" sites here, that I'm sure any Bible history junkie could get their fix here. Tarsus and Antioch. The seven churches of Revelation. Paul, John and multiple others have travelled through, or have come from, this region. It simply seeps with the history of the church, thanks to the Byzantine empire (even though it has been obscured, and sometimes a bit hidden from view, after both the Seljuk and Ottoman empires have been through).
Not that we're doing much in the 'bible tourist' category, but we have seen where St. John is said to have retired and written his gospel, and where he brought Mary to spend the rest of her days after he was commanded to take care of her. We have visited the city of Ephesus, and stood where Paul stood when he spoke to the Ephesians (and then got the silversmiths of Artemis really, really mad). We have seen the church where St. John is said to have been buried. We have stood where Constantine has been, creating the Holy Roman Empire in his time. We have been where Richard the Lion-Hearted has been (though sadly, it was because of the Crusades that he came through here). We have seen where the ancient church built entire cities and centres of worship, deep in the mountains and under the hills. We have seen how the Byzantine empire maintained the practice and memory of the church while Europe was in its Dark Ages.
Incidentally, I think we fail to give the Byzantine church (and for that matter, the ancient Celtic church) enough credit in the Protestant tradition for their holding fast to the faith - without them, Protestants/evangelicals/fundamentalists wouldn't even have had a faith legacy to be able to now look at those churches and call them heretical...
To consider the weight of history and to consider that our footsteps actually mirror, two thousand years later, the same places where others have stood and spoken, is quite a wonder.
Not that we're doing much in the 'bible tourist' category, but we have seen where St. John is said to have retired and written his gospel, and where he brought Mary to spend the rest of her days after he was commanded to take care of her. We have visited the city of Ephesus, and stood where Paul stood when he spoke to the Ephesians (and then got the silversmiths of Artemis really, really mad). We have seen the church where St. John is said to have been buried. We have stood where Constantine has been, creating the Holy Roman Empire in his time. We have been where Richard the Lion-Hearted has been (though sadly, it was because of the Crusades that he came through here). We have seen where the ancient church built entire cities and centres of worship, deep in the mountains and under the hills. We have seen how the Byzantine empire maintained the practice and memory of the church while Europe was in its Dark Ages.
Incidentally, I think we fail to give the Byzantine church (and for that matter, the ancient Celtic church) enough credit in the Protestant tradition for their holding fast to the faith - without them, Protestants/evangelicals/fundamentalists wouldn't even have had a faith legacy to be able to now look at those churches and call them heretical...
To consider the weight of history and to consider that our footsteps actually mirror, two thousand years later, the same places where others have stood and spoken, is quite a wonder.
Turkey II
The one fact about Turkey that I find fascinating is that it is a completely food sovereign nation. That is to say, Turkey is completely capable of feeding itself, and still have leftover for export. That is incredible. There is very little that Turkey actually requires to import for its own survival. Most of the items that it imports, it could surely survive without, if need be, such as coffee and bananas. Otherwise, it is able to produce all of its grain, meat, fruit and vegetables and dairy needs on its own. It even has its own capacity for growing tea and sugar, its own nuts and legumes and its own fishing industry to round out all of its dining needs.
Incredible. In addition, the food itself is incredible. Plenty of vegetables and fresh bread, completely delicious all the time. I have been hard pressed to find a bad meal here, even in the smallest of büfe shops.
Part of it, I think, is how they have been very focussed on using agricultural land. Very few yards or private greenspace lacks fruit or olive trees. Most vacant areas between buildings in smaller towns have greenhouses upon them. Efficient usage of terraces, stacked with greenhouses are noted, even by the sides of main thoroughfares, in order to ensure production of food. Simply amazing. Not knowing too much of their food industry, nor its ethics or economics, I still have to tip my hat to their ability to feed their own people.
Incredible. In addition, the food itself is incredible. Plenty of vegetables and fresh bread, completely delicious all the time. I have been hard pressed to find a bad meal here, even in the smallest of büfe shops.
Part of it, I think, is how they have been very focussed on using agricultural land. Very few yards or private greenspace lacks fruit or olive trees. Most vacant areas between buildings in smaller towns have greenhouses upon them. Efficient usage of terraces, stacked with greenhouses are noted, even by the sides of main thoroughfares, in order to ensure production of food. Simply amazing. Not knowing too much of their food industry, nor its ethics or economics, I still have to tip my hat to their ability to feed their own people.
Turkey I
So here we are in Istanbul - a city with a long, vibrant history, where two continents collide, the birthplace of Christianity and Sufism. Mosque and cathedral (and back again, as they were all converted to mosques during the Ottoman empire), both rising majestically along the skyline. Saw a few of the 'must see' sites here including the Blue Mosque. Now, not having seen an extensive number of famous mosques around the world, I do believe this is one of the 'famouser' ones. This is also quite evident just based on the throngs of people coming to see it. Also, as in all mosques, you are requested to remove your shoes before entering - the Blue Mosque is the first that I have seen that even has a dispenser roll of plastic bags at the visitors' entrance to put your shoes in (also an indication of just how popular this site is)!
Problem is, the first thing that you notice upon stepping into the Blue Mosque is the distinctive smell of feet. Not the burning incense of cathedrals, not the mustiness of old parchments, but of feet. Before you even notice the soaring dome, the intricacy of the tiling, the majesty of the building and its design, you smell feet. It is disconcerting, to say the least. Furthermore, I think the solemnity and majesty of the building is taken away by the numbers of children running wild in the male area of the mosque (the larger section of the ground space, and the more spacious, as fewer people are allowed in that area, causing great crushes of people in the unisex/visitors' area, which explains why so many children choose to run around the male prayer area). Of course, this could be rectified somewhat if all people, irrespective of their gender, were free to 'come before God', not having some being relegated to small areas in the posterior part of the building. It could, however, also just encourage more tourists, which wouldn't be a good thing either.
Problem is, the first thing that you notice upon stepping into the Blue Mosque is the distinctive smell of feet. Not the burning incense of cathedrals, not the mustiness of old parchments, but of feet. Before you even notice the soaring dome, the intricacy of the tiling, the majesty of the building and its design, you smell feet. It is disconcerting, to say the least. Furthermore, I think the solemnity and majesty of the building is taken away by the numbers of children running wild in the male area of the mosque (the larger section of the ground space, and the more spacious, as fewer people are allowed in that area, causing great crushes of people in the unisex/visitors' area, which explains why so many children choose to run around the male prayer area). Of course, this could be rectified somewhat if all people, irrespective of their gender, were free to 'come before God', not having some being relegated to small areas in the posterior part of the building. It could, however, also just encourage more tourists, which wouldn't be a good thing either.
Calgary I
Sometimes one's impressions of a city are somewhat not entirely without merit. Calgary, to me, still represents unfettered greed and wealth at the expense of the environment and what is actually good for people. It still represents to me unending sprawl and abhorrent history of poor planning in the past. And yet, there is a mayor there who is the mayor Toronto should have had. There is currently a Calgary regional plan that makes sense within the parameters that it currently finds itself in. There is deep thought going into thinking about what kind of future that they see for themselves. These are all very encouraging things.
However, they are still left fighting against an overwhelming sense of a libertarian paranoia, of stalwarts who still want to do things for profit, raping the earth and refusing to think of future generations, those from some weird "Christian" point of view who say they are not moving with progress (though more likely, not moving with their own personal forms of gain). It's depressing that the stereotypical redneck avarice of the region may very well spell its own demise...
However, they are still left fighting against an overwhelming sense of a libertarian paranoia, of stalwarts who still want to do things for profit, raping the earth and refusing to think of future generations, those from some weird "Christian" point of view who say they are not moving with progress (though more likely, not moving with their own personal forms of gain). It's depressing that the stereotypical redneck avarice of the region may very well spell its own demise...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Musing on the muses
I was browsing through the paper today, and noted a collection of photographs being taken at the Cannes Film Festival that's currently taking place. I noted how beautiful all the women were, with their dresses and beautiful coiffed hair. Certainly, they were all dressed impeccably, and so very beautiful. And with very sore feet - I don't think any of them did not arrive on the red carpet without stilettos.
In stark contrast were the photographs taken of the men: Antonio Banderas in an untucked shirt, boat shoes and jeans. DeNiro wearing sneakers (sneakers!) with his tuxedo. Jack Black showing up in a T-shirt and sneakers. The lucky ducks. The men get to show up in clothing they can comfortably wear on the French Riviera, lounging around and even having the belt room to spare for some extra frites before the show starts, and yet the women, the women...
Bound in tiny pieces of footwear. Encased in tight dresses. Forcing their bosoms to heave with the corsets and stays in their tops. It is still the relentless expectations and subjugation of women that force these women, as stunningly beautiful as they are, to be dressed no less oppressively than those of their burqa-covered sisters under the Taliban, or the chanzu of the Han Chinese, or the corseted courtesans in European courts. The irony of the freedom afforded to Western women seems a bit lost when perusing these beauties...
In stark contrast were the photographs taken of the men: Antonio Banderas in an untucked shirt, boat shoes and jeans. DeNiro wearing sneakers (sneakers!) with his tuxedo. Jack Black showing up in a T-shirt and sneakers. The lucky ducks. The men get to show up in clothing they can comfortably wear on the French Riviera, lounging around and even having the belt room to spare for some extra frites before the show starts, and yet the women, the women...
Bound in tiny pieces of footwear. Encased in tight dresses. Forcing their bosoms to heave with the corsets and stays in their tops. It is still the relentless expectations and subjugation of women that force these women, as stunningly beautiful as they are, to be dressed no less oppressively than those of their burqa-covered sisters under the Taliban, or the chanzu of the Han Chinese, or the corseted courtesans in European courts. The irony of the freedom afforded to Western women seems a bit lost when perusing these beauties...
Sunday, April 24, 2011
FFT
John of Kronstadt was a nineteenth-century Russian Orthodox priest at a time when alcohol abuse was rampant. Few of the priests ventured out of their churches to help the people. They waited for the people to come to them.
John, compelled by love, went out into the streets. People said he would lift the hungover, foul-smelling drunks from the gutter, cradle them in his arms, and say to them, “This is beneath your dignity. You were meant to house the fullness of God.”
Like John of Kronstadt, we can say to the broken, “Your brokenness does not define you. You are one in whom Christ dwells. You were meant to house the fullness of God.” We welcome them like the Prodigal Son, restoring them to their true birthright, even if they have trouble accepting it.
-James Bryan Smith.
John, compelled by love, went out into the streets. People said he would lift the hungover, foul-smelling drunks from the gutter, cradle them in his arms, and say to them, “This is beneath your dignity. You were meant to house the fullness of God.”
Like John of Kronstadt, we can say to the broken, “Your brokenness does not define you. You are one in whom Christ dwells. You were meant to house the fullness of God.” We welcome them like the Prodigal Son, restoring them to their true birthright, even if they have trouble accepting it.
-James Bryan Smith.
FFT
…Don’t the prophets strike you as kind of cranky? … no wonder those of us who preach often avoid them. Our listeners don’t always like it. We don’t like it.
We like happy books. In most of our churches, it is easier to preach comfort rather than judgment, mercy rather than justice, because by the standards of God’s justice, who can ever measure up?
On the other hand, these passages are in the Bible. In fact, the prophets directly account for 250 of the 1189 chapters in the Bible. Can you really be a biblical preacher and not address what the prophets have to say?
More than that, there is a reason why we need to preach on justice. There is a reason for the anger of the prophets, and why we need to submit ourselves to the discipline of regularly sitting under and preaching their words…
...We read the prophets and think: What’s the big deal? What are they getting all heated up about?
To us, the world is not so bad. Most of us are pretty happy. Things are going okay - at least for me.
I know there’s violence in the world. It’s regrettable, but as long as it doesn’t touch my life, I would prefer not to think much about it. Certainly that’s not connected to my anger, self-centredness, lack of love.
Cheating goes on everyday in business. Somebody shades the truth a little for profit - that’s just the way things are.
Some 8000 children are born with or infected with HIV everyday in sub-saharan Afica, and it’s now the leading cause of death.
A few miles from my church, from any church, children are born in poverty, living in ghettos or slums; they will grow up without access to decent education, housing.
But they’re not my children. Maybe their parents did something to deserve it. So what if in ancient Israel the poor often got the shaft? Where is it any different? Why go off the deep end?
The prophets act like the world is falling apart.
What’s the big deal?
The prophets have been given the crushing burden of looking at our world and seeing what God sees; rich people trying to get richer and looking the other way while poor people die. And thinking God is really pretty pleased with their lives. And that the world is going pretty well.
We tend to avoid preaching about justice because we don’t really want to know the truth about what sin has done to our world and to us. Because that would make us uncomfortable.
As Micah 2:11 put it: “If a liar and a deceiver comes and says: ‘I will prophesy for you plenty of wine and beer,’ he would be just the prophet for this people.”
We prefer preaching that tastes great and is less filling….
…. Events that horrified the prophets go on every day in our world, but we just get used to it - like you get used to wearing your watch. After a while - we don’t notice any more.
The prophets noticed. The prophets never got desensitized to sin. Injustice is sin. Justice is central to shalom. We omit justice from our preaching at peril of our calling, and of our congregation’s health and ability to see the reality around them…
…Concern for justice must also be rooted in Jesus and tied to Scripture. Historian Mark Noll noted that one shortcoming of the abolition movement was a failure to do the exegetical and theological work needed to base abolitionism in the authority of Scripture. As a result, reform movements after the Civil War (from women’s rights to temperance to child labour) became increasingly detached from Scripture, and they became increasingly separated from the concerns of the church…
…When we ask people to involve themselves in justice issues, we are not adding a burden on to their busy lives, or asking them to do the church a favour. Ultimately, what matters most is… Which person is more like God?...
…In some churches, where many attenders are well off, we may have to remind ourselves of how badly injustice stings… we hate it when someone treats us unfairly - at work, in family. The call of Jesus is to get as energized about someone else’s being the victim of injustice as you are when it’s you. In particular, be concerned about injustice to those you might be inclined to overlook.
This is another concrete story, from a woman quoted in Miraslov Volf’s wonderful book Exclusion and Embrace: “I am Muslim, and I am 35 years old. To my second son, I gave the name Jihad so he would not forget the testament of his mother - revenge. The first time I put my baby at my breast I told him, ‘May this milk choke you if you forget.’ So be it. The Serbs taught me to hate. [She describes her work as a teacher and how the very people she taught and cared for became her enemies.] My student Zoran, the only son of my neighbour, urinated into my mouth. As the bearded hooligans standing around laughed, he told me: ‘ You are good for nothing else, you stinking Muslim woman.’”
Jesus often surprised his followers by being concerned for those whom others were inclined to overlook….
… So we are to remind people that it is in Jesus that justice prevails. The cross was the scene of the most monstrous injustice in history, where the one truly innocent person in history was visited with the sum total of human sin.
It is on a cross we see most clearly God’s hatred of injustice. It is an empty tomb that proclaims most loudly justice’s final victory.
And so Jesus’ people are called to form a community where shalom prevails. I love the translation Eugene Peterson gives in Acts 2 of the way the world looking on the early church “and in general, liked what they saw” (Acts 2:47, The Message).
May it happen again.
-John Ortberg.
We like happy books. In most of our churches, it is easier to preach comfort rather than judgment, mercy rather than justice, because by the standards of God’s justice, who can ever measure up?
On the other hand, these passages are in the Bible. In fact, the prophets directly account for 250 of the 1189 chapters in the Bible. Can you really be a biblical preacher and not address what the prophets have to say?
More than that, there is a reason why we need to preach on justice. There is a reason for the anger of the prophets, and why we need to submit ourselves to the discipline of regularly sitting under and preaching their words…
...We read the prophets and think: What’s the big deal? What are they getting all heated up about?
To us, the world is not so bad. Most of us are pretty happy. Things are going okay - at least for me.
I know there’s violence in the world. It’s regrettable, but as long as it doesn’t touch my life, I would prefer not to think much about it. Certainly that’s not connected to my anger, self-centredness, lack of love.
Cheating goes on everyday in business. Somebody shades the truth a little for profit - that’s just the way things are.
Some 8000 children are born with or infected with HIV everyday in sub-saharan Afica, and it’s now the leading cause of death.
A few miles from my church, from any church, children are born in poverty, living in ghettos or slums; they will grow up without access to decent education, housing.
But they’re not my children. Maybe their parents did something to deserve it. So what if in ancient Israel the poor often got the shaft? Where is it any different? Why go off the deep end?
The prophets act like the world is falling apart.
What’s the big deal?
The prophets have been given the crushing burden of looking at our world and seeing what God sees; rich people trying to get richer and looking the other way while poor people die. And thinking God is really pretty pleased with their lives. And that the world is going pretty well.
We tend to avoid preaching about justice because we don’t really want to know the truth about what sin has done to our world and to us. Because that would make us uncomfortable.
As Micah 2:11 put it: “If a liar and a deceiver comes and says: ‘I will prophesy for you plenty of wine and beer,’ he would be just the prophet for this people.”
We prefer preaching that tastes great and is less filling….
…. Events that horrified the prophets go on every day in our world, but we just get used to it - like you get used to wearing your watch. After a while - we don’t notice any more.
The prophets noticed. The prophets never got desensitized to sin. Injustice is sin. Justice is central to shalom. We omit justice from our preaching at peril of our calling, and of our congregation’s health and ability to see the reality around them…
…Concern for justice must also be rooted in Jesus and tied to Scripture. Historian Mark Noll noted that one shortcoming of the abolition movement was a failure to do the exegetical and theological work needed to base abolitionism in the authority of Scripture. As a result, reform movements after the Civil War (from women’s rights to temperance to child labour) became increasingly detached from Scripture, and they became increasingly separated from the concerns of the church…
…When we ask people to involve themselves in justice issues, we are not adding a burden on to their busy lives, or asking them to do the church a favour. Ultimately, what matters most is… Which person is more like God?...
…In some churches, where many attenders are well off, we may have to remind ourselves of how badly injustice stings… we hate it when someone treats us unfairly - at work, in family. The call of Jesus is to get as energized about someone else’s being the victim of injustice as you are when it’s you. In particular, be concerned about injustice to those you might be inclined to overlook.
This is another concrete story, from a woman quoted in Miraslov Volf’s wonderful book Exclusion and Embrace: “I am Muslim, and I am 35 years old. To my second son, I gave the name Jihad so he would not forget the testament of his mother - revenge. The first time I put my baby at my breast I told him, ‘May this milk choke you if you forget.’ So be it. The Serbs taught me to hate. [She describes her work as a teacher and how the very people she taught and cared for became her enemies.] My student Zoran, the only son of my neighbour, urinated into my mouth. As the bearded hooligans standing around laughed, he told me: ‘ You are good for nothing else, you stinking Muslim woman.’”
Jesus often surprised his followers by being concerned for those whom others were inclined to overlook….
… So we are to remind people that it is in Jesus that justice prevails. The cross was the scene of the most monstrous injustice in history, where the one truly innocent person in history was visited with the sum total of human sin.
It is on a cross we see most clearly God’s hatred of injustice. It is an empty tomb that proclaims most loudly justice’s final victory.
And so Jesus’ people are called to form a community where shalom prevails. I love the translation Eugene Peterson gives in Acts 2 of the way the world looking on the early church “and in general, liked what they saw” (Acts 2:47, The Message).
May it happen again.
-John Ortberg.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Summertime, and the living ain't easy...
Well, now that the school year is over (part I of IV to V), I can now get back to... the normal amount of busy-ness. I find it's interesting how it tends to come in waves, rather than in a steady stream. I think it'd be easier that way, if it came at a regular trickle, rather than a mini-tsunami monthly.
Currently enjoying having a new roommate come to live with me, until she gets her life direction all figured out. It's interesting, not having had a (permanent) roommate for a couple of years now and having to renegotiate life with one. It's good and nice to have someone else around the house.
However, I'm regularly intruding on her space so I can access my computer to work on a talk I'm giving on Easter Sunday. Prophetic, it's expected to be. Challenging, too. Yipes. Calling people out of the self-centredness of their own forgiveness, and to broaden their horizons to the reconciliation and transformation of all of life through Christ is where they're being pushed to go. Hopefully impactful; we shall see. The heart is notoriously self-centred and selfish, I know. I can barely break out of my own selfish desires to tend to those around me; the cords of selfishness bind all of us quite firmly.
I'm almost grateful I'm not going to be in the country for another conference that had asked if I'd come to be their plenary speaker (for pity's sake! Can you imagine how some people's teeth would gnash? They would probably wear down their entire enamel that such an infidel as I would be allowed to speak publicly.) this year. Though it would have, indeed, been a fine opportunity to continue to call God's people to envision the wide and lavish love of Christ and His purposes and plans for all of His creation...
Currently enjoying having a new roommate come to live with me, until she gets her life direction all figured out. It's interesting, not having had a (permanent) roommate for a couple of years now and having to renegotiate life with one. It's good and nice to have someone else around the house.
However, I'm regularly intruding on her space so I can access my computer to work on a talk I'm giving on Easter Sunday. Prophetic, it's expected to be. Challenging, too. Yipes. Calling people out of the self-centredness of their own forgiveness, and to broaden their horizons to the reconciliation and transformation of all of life through Christ is where they're being pushed to go. Hopefully impactful; we shall see. The heart is notoriously self-centred and selfish, I know. I can barely break out of my own selfish desires to tend to those around me; the cords of selfishness bind all of us quite firmly.
I'm almost grateful I'm not going to be in the country for another conference that had asked if I'd come to be their plenary speaker (for pity's sake! Can you imagine how some people's teeth would gnash? They would probably wear down their entire enamel that such an infidel as I would be allowed to speak publicly.) this year. Though it would have, indeed, been a fine opportunity to continue to call God's people to envision the wide and lavish love of Christ and His purposes and plans for all of His creation...
Monday, April 11, 2011
Lenten thoughts
though they really aren't, as I was wracking my brain for a few weeks prior to Lent, trying to think of something meaningful to give up, but by the time Fat Tuesday came around, the one thing I had thought of was actually going to be difficult to implement, so now I didn't actually give anything up for Lent.
However, I'll do it next year. I had thought of giving up eating out for the whole season of Lent. The only reason why I didn't was because I had some dinner and lunch meetings booked in the upcoming weeks that I couldn't break, so I had already trespassed against Lent before it began!
Admittedly, with a significant amount of disposable income and living in a city with a significant wealth and diversity of cuisines, it's very difficult to give up the idea of restaurants and food services. However, I think I, like many of my peers, spend an inordinate amount of money on food outside the home. For me, I find that even more profoundly ironic with my fruit and veg box and my commitment to local producers and vendors. It's certainly not a cost thing: certainly, I likely spend close to the same amount in restaurants monthly as I do on food consumed in the home, but, as opposed to the majority of Torontonians, this doesn't affect my own food security.
It is, however, a justice thing. When we are called as people to temper our appetites (of all sorts), to snuff out greed and selfishness, then I find the over-abundant expenditures on food outside the home fairly unjustifiable. It's a tough balance: many chefs I know are talented, hard-working people, who deserve the accolades and fair compensation for what they do. However, it still remains a luxury for most of the people in our city. And so that's where I remain: You would think it would be easy to give up restaurant food for 47 days, but it's not as pragmatically easy as one realizes...
However, I'll do it next year. I had thought of giving up eating out for the whole season of Lent. The only reason why I didn't was because I had some dinner and lunch meetings booked in the upcoming weeks that I couldn't break, so I had already trespassed against Lent before it began!
Admittedly, with a significant amount of disposable income and living in a city with a significant wealth and diversity of cuisines, it's very difficult to give up the idea of restaurants and food services. However, I think I, like many of my peers, spend an inordinate amount of money on food outside the home. For me, I find that even more profoundly ironic with my fruit and veg box and my commitment to local producers and vendors. It's certainly not a cost thing: certainly, I likely spend close to the same amount in restaurants monthly as I do on food consumed in the home, but, as opposed to the majority of Torontonians, this doesn't affect my own food security.
It is, however, a justice thing. When we are called as people to temper our appetites (of all sorts), to snuff out greed and selfishness, then I find the over-abundant expenditures on food outside the home fairly unjustifiable. It's a tough balance: many chefs I know are talented, hard-working people, who deserve the accolades and fair compensation for what they do. However, it still remains a luxury for most of the people in our city. And so that's where I remain: You would think it would be easy to give up restaurant food for 47 days, but it's not as pragmatically easy as one realizes...
Friday, April 01, 2011
FFT
Our Greatest Threat
Much as I hate to admit it, I do reconnaissance at the Department of Motor Vehicles before choosing my seat. The place is a collision of diversity. Logically, I shouldn't feel so uneasy. No one's going to pull a knife on me. But within this diversity there are certain people groups that I view with suspicion. I'm not proud of it, but I believe certain people groups have an unusual capacity for doing evil.
Are certain people really more prone to doing evil than others? Yes. I've found that history points to a single people group who do the most evil. I know it sounds terribly intolerant to label a single people group as the enemy, but this is what history shows.
So who is this great enemy of ours? Three historical vignettes will answer that question. We begin in the 5th century with an answer offered by Symeon Stylites. A Christian ascetic, Symeon sought to free himself from the corrosion of the world by building a 60-foot pillar and standing atop it for 37 years. He started a trend and soon a forest of pillars grew up around him, each topped with a man who similarly believed that the problem was something "down there." Who's the enemy, according to Symeon? The swamp of depraved souls below.
A second story offers a different answer. A journalist once approached Mother Teresa, notepad in hand. Apparently thinking he'd stump her, he asked pointedly, "Where is God when a child dies alone in the slums of Calcutta?" It's not an uncommon question. A God who claims to be both powerful and loving should be taken to task for such an atrocity. The implication, of course, is that God is the perpetrator of evil.
A third answer comes from Flannery O'Connor. As a novelist and essayist, she's not exactly writing history, but her vision is sharp enough to blur the line between fiction and reality. In a doctor's waiting room, Mrs. Turpin sits and reflects on her good nature, thankful that Jesus "had not made her a nigger or white-trash or ugly." Then for no apparent reason, a snarlingly ugly girl hurls a book at her from across the room, followed by an insult, "Go back to hell where you came from, you old warthog." Having collected herself, dusting off her pride Mrs. Turpin notes silently of the insult, "There was trash in the room to whom it might justly have been applied." Who's the enemy, according to Mrs. Turpin? Others who don't know good folk when they see 'em.
So far, our three stories don't agree on a common enemy, except to say not me. But the stories go on. Mrs. Turpin left the doctor's office baffled by the ugly girl's ignorance. Later that night, however, she couldn't shake the girl's words. They echoed in her mind, speaking the truth by stripping bare her self-righteous soul: "Go back to hell, you old warthog." Mrs. Turpin is the real enemy.
Mother Teresa took the journalist's question in stride. But her answer cut short any further ridicule. "Where was God when a child dies alone in Calcutta?" She responded patiently: "Where were you?" The journalist is the real enemy.
Symeon Stylites eventually became a saint. But in his effort to escape the corrosive world below, his foot produced a terrible ulcer. The pus that continually seeped out is documented in graphic detail. Corrosion, it seems, also comes from within. Symeon is the real enemy.
Which is the people group most prone to do evil? History tries to dodge the question, but the answer is inevitable: it's not them; it's me. I am our greatest enemy.
May God save us from ourselves.
- Brandon Gaide.
Much as I hate to admit it, I do reconnaissance at the Department of Motor Vehicles before choosing my seat. The place is a collision of diversity. Logically, I shouldn't feel so uneasy. No one's going to pull a knife on me. But within this diversity there are certain people groups that I view with suspicion. I'm not proud of it, but I believe certain people groups have an unusual capacity for doing evil.
Are certain people really more prone to doing evil than others? Yes. I've found that history points to a single people group who do the most evil. I know it sounds terribly intolerant to label a single people group as the enemy, but this is what history shows.
So who is this great enemy of ours? Three historical vignettes will answer that question. We begin in the 5th century with an answer offered by Symeon Stylites. A Christian ascetic, Symeon sought to free himself from the corrosion of the world by building a 60-foot pillar and standing atop it for 37 years. He started a trend and soon a forest of pillars grew up around him, each topped with a man who similarly believed that the problem was something "down there." Who's the enemy, according to Symeon? The swamp of depraved souls below.
A second story offers a different answer. A journalist once approached Mother Teresa, notepad in hand. Apparently thinking he'd stump her, he asked pointedly, "Where is God when a child dies alone in the slums of Calcutta?" It's not an uncommon question. A God who claims to be both powerful and loving should be taken to task for such an atrocity. The implication, of course, is that God is the perpetrator of evil.
A third answer comes from Flannery O'Connor. As a novelist and essayist, she's not exactly writing history, but her vision is sharp enough to blur the line between fiction and reality. In a doctor's waiting room, Mrs. Turpin sits and reflects on her good nature, thankful that Jesus "had not made her a nigger or white-trash or ugly." Then for no apparent reason, a snarlingly ugly girl hurls a book at her from across the room, followed by an insult, "Go back to hell where you came from, you old warthog." Having collected herself, dusting off her pride Mrs. Turpin notes silently of the insult, "There was trash in the room to whom it might justly have been applied." Who's the enemy, according to Mrs. Turpin? Others who don't know good folk when they see 'em.
So far, our three stories don't agree on a common enemy, except to say not me. But the stories go on. Mrs. Turpin left the doctor's office baffled by the ugly girl's ignorance. Later that night, however, she couldn't shake the girl's words. They echoed in her mind, speaking the truth by stripping bare her self-righteous soul: "Go back to hell, you old warthog." Mrs. Turpin is the real enemy.
Mother Teresa took the journalist's question in stride. But her answer cut short any further ridicule. "Where was God when a child dies alone in Calcutta?" She responded patiently: "Where were you?" The journalist is the real enemy.
Symeon Stylites eventually became a saint. But in his effort to escape the corrosive world below, his foot produced a terrible ulcer. The pus that continually seeped out is documented in graphic detail. Corrosion, it seems, also comes from within. Symeon is the real enemy.
Which is the people group most prone to do evil? History tries to dodge the question, but the answer is inevitable: it's not them; it's me. I am our greatest enemy.
May God save us from ourselves.
- Brandon Gaide.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Being transformed by the renewing of your mind (not)
One theme that has repeated itself over and over again over the past week or so has been that of entertainment. Some of the main stories that have been running through the newspapers and radios have been commenting on (in various degrees): Charlie Sheen, the NHL (and issues around head concussions, and comparing it to NFL and UFC injuries), whether Lady Gaga does or does not like the idea of breast milk ice cream, people lining up for the iPad launch, who did and did not sing for Gadhafi's family, what has happened to Justin Bieber's hair, etc etc. And, despite news of the rebels fighting Gadhafi's forces, yet another earthquake devastating Japan, and the undemocratic processes that are happening in our own City Hall, we spend an inordinate amount of time paying attention to diversions, to fluffy entertainment. I personally find it embarrassing that I do have a better sense as to what the Bieb's new haircut looks like than I do about Libyan history.
What drives us to be more concerned about the newest Hollywood blockbuster, the newest celebrity gossip, than what concerns life-or-death situations for thousands, if not millions, of people, every day? Why do we tweet about what we think about starlet X's dress that she wore to the Oscars, but think less about those who are dying and fighting over less than what that Oscar gown was worth? Why do we do that?
What I cannot stand is when God's people stand around, at churches and fellowships and potlucks, and talk about this kind of drivel. If this is the content of our minds, then where lies the direction of our hearts? And if our hearts are inclined in a certain direction, then how will it lead how we choose to live our lives? It's all very depressing.
What drives us to be more concerned about the newest Hollywood blockbuster, the newest celebrity gossip, than what concerns life-or-death situations for thousands, if not millions, of people, every day? Why do we tweet about what we think about starlet X's dress that she wore to the Oscars, but think less about those who are dying and fighting over less than what that Oscar gown was worth? Why do we do that?
What I cannot stand is when God's people stand around, at churches and fellowships and potlucks, and talk about this kind of drivel. If this is the content of our minds, then where lies the direction of our hearts? And if our hearts are inclined in a certain direction, then how will it lead how we choose to live our lives? It's all very depressing.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
A City Covenant
You know what I love? Well, many things, really. But one thing that really inspires me is other people who look through a glass, darkly, but can also see beyond it and dream big dreams, and when synergies can come together and cause those dreams to happen.
I'm currently in discussions with one of those dreamers. The initiative is so exciting, and visionary, and possible, holding the potential to change our city for the better, if not the whole country. It actually deeply impresses me when people have huge vision for how Kingdom can come, here and now, and as well as thinking ahead to when it shall come to fulfillment.
At any rate, I've been asked to take part, and help found this initiative. I am embarrassed to think that they think I can actually contribute something useful. What an opportunity to make a tangible difference for this city, however.
More details later (unless, of course, you're one of those people who are in this 'divine conspiracy' as well), but certainly, I am also daunted, not only by my lack of skill, but also with the tasks that still remain, and how to find balance, but also with considering how to give 'all out' for the Kingdom, each and every day...
I'm currently in discussions with one of those dreamers. The initiative is so exciting, and visionary, and possible, holding the potential to change our city for the better, if not the whole country. It actually deeply impresses me when people have huge vision for how Kingdom can come, here and now, and as well as thinking ahead to when it shall come to fulfillment.
At any rate, I've been asked to take part, and help found this initiative. I am embarrassed to think that they think I can actually contribute something useful. What an opportunity to make a tangible difference for this city, however.
More details later (unless, of course, you're one of those people who are in this 'divine conspiracy' as well), but certainly, I am also daunted, not only by my lack of skill, but also with the tasks that still remain, and how to find balance, but also with considering how to give 'all out' for the Kingdom, each and every day...
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Never much longer than 500 words. Maybe 140 characters or less.
I've realized I have a really hard time paying attention for hours at a time, sitting, immobile, at a desk. I've been endeavouring to finish a paper for school, and it's been super-ADD in trying to do so. I sit for about 30 minutes, write one or two sentences, then check Facebook or email, get up, make a cup of tea, think it's probably a good idea to clean the bathroom, and then realize an hour later that I should get back to work. It's been painful.
I'm not sure how much of this is culturally imposed, in this culture of Twitter, status updates and Sesame Street commercial length episodes. I'm not sure how much of this is because, up to this point, brevity and conciseness are virtues in my career. However, it's killing me to talk, at length, about a topic that I find fascinating, but can only say so much before I start repeating myself. To ask me to do a powerpoint presentation, bullet-style, with the three major points to be made, is great. I could orate for hours on a topic, but to ask me to transcribe it all on paper? Bah!
I'm not sure how much of this is culturally imposed, in this culture of Twitter, status updates and Sesame Street commercial length episodes. I'm not sure how much of this is because, up to this point, brevity and conciseness are virtues in my career. However, it's killing me to talk, at length, about a topic that I find fascinating, but can only say so much before I start repeating myself. To ask me to do a powerpoint presentation, bullet-style, with the three major points to be made, is great. I could orate for hours on a topic, but to ask me to transcribe it all on paper? Bah!
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Bing! goes the lightbulb
Wow! It's been a while since I've posted! Mainly because I don't really have much new to say, actually.
A few weekends ago was a launch of a 'salon' for a group of people who generally have not been pushed, nor encouraged, to think deeply and profoundly about the assumptions that they bring to the understanding of their faith. I think some of them still didn't really get it.
However, it was greatly encouraging to see people thinking, almost physically seeing the lightbulbs going off in their heads to think and engage critically with their cultural blinders, and their biases and judgements. Not sure where that will go, or if some will eventually tire of thinking, and want to simply consume blindly.
Blind, witless consumption results in being prepared like a pig for slaughter; so engorged and sated with lulling platitudes, that one cannot and does not recognize or engage with the culture as it is....
A few weekends ago was a launch of a 'salon' for a group of people who generally have not been pushed, nor encouraged, to think deeply and profoundly about the assumptions that they bring to the understanding of their faith. I think some of them still didn't really get it.
However, it was greatly encouraging to see people thinking, almost physically seeing the lightbulbs going off in their heads to think and engage critically with their cultural blinders, and their biases and judgements. Not sure where that will go, or if some will eventually tire of thinking, and want to simply consume blindly.
Blind, witless consumption results in being prepared like a pig for slaughter; so engorged and sated with lulling platitudes, that one cannot and does not recognize or engage with the culture as it is....
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
FFT
"When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist." - Dom Helder Camara
Monday, January 17, 2011
FFT
I live in North America. I'm fortunate. Some would even say I'm blessed. But when I look around our great country, I see disturbing contrasts. Some are rich, others poor. Some are powerful, others neglected. There are those who are healthy, those who are sick. My travels take me to countries where there appear to be no blessings. I see dirt floors, glassless windows, rag mattresses and short life expectancies, things that I would consider trials, perhaps even tribulations. Yet when I listen to the Christians living there speak about their God, I know they have seen and experienced God in a reality I can only read about. Sometimes I wonder whether their experiences allow them to know God in ways I never will.
Some say the blessings I have are from God, but it makes me wonder why God would give me financial security when that doesn't lead me to a stronger faith. Why does He protect me from pain when my pleasure only keeps me distracted from the important things in life? Ravi Zacharias in his book "Jesus among other gods" states that:
"Meaninglessness does not come from being weary of pain but from being weary of pleasure. It is not pain that has driven the west into emptiness; it has been the drowning of meaning in the oceans of our pleasure."
I remember the patient dying of cancer that I had told would not live out the weekend. He didn't believe me and weakly joked about my attempt to predict the future; "Are you God?" he asked gently. When I returned after my weekend off he smiled, took my hand, motioned me closer to his face and whispered that I must not be a very good doctor as he was still alive! We both knew what he meant, and we both knew that God was waiting for him; he was ready to die but he needed to wait a little longer and even in his suffering, that was okay.
We can also recall those patients who make us feel uncomfortable in their lively exuberance as they speak about the blessings of God. They are too often speaking from a life of pleasure. Safety, security, affluence and overindulgence often define our understanding of God's blessing. Is it possible that when one travels the easy road in life, one becomes spiritually soft? Is suffering a form of spiritual exercise? Are Christians in the West suffering from spiritual obesity, fed to excess on the best things in life at the table of our local "pigs-are-us" buffet?
Meaning in life becomes clearer when we go through tough times. Suffering brings out many emotions in us. Some cry out for help, others rail against the foes. But it still hurts. Is there a lesson for us in suffering? Or is this just required of the few? The Bible gives us some indication when Paul writes in Roman 5:3,4 "...we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."
I can only conclude that North American "blessings" are not necessarily God's "blessings". There is something out there of more value. John Steinbeck, in his book "The Pearl" had it right when he told his story about the error of sacrificing all for something that was valuable but not priceless. We need to look for and find the "pearl of great price" that Christ refers to in His parable.
This issue leaves me with a bit of sanguine melancholy. Christ has not given me my affluence as a blessing to horde, but as a tool to serve. And I need to go through suffering to mature. Isn't there another way?
-Dr. Roger Gingerich
Some say the blessings I have are from God, but it makes me wonder why God would give me financial security when that doesn't lead me to a stronger faith. Why does He protect me from pain when my pleasure only keeps me distracted from the important things in life? Ravi Zacharias in his book "Jesus among other gods" states that:
"Meaninglessness does not come from being weary of pain but from being weary of pleasure. It is not pain that has driven the west into emptiness; it has been the drowning of meaning in the oceans of our pleasure."
I remember the patient dying of cancer that I had told would not live out the weekend. He didn't believe me and weakly joked about my attempt to predict the future; "Are you God?" he asked gently. When I returned after my weekend off he smiled, took my hand, motioned me closer to his face and whispered that I must not be a very good doctor as he was still alive! We both knew what he meant, and we both knew that God was waiting for him; he was ready to die but he needed to wait a little longer and even in his suffering, that was okay.
We can also recall those patients who make us feel uncomfortable in their lively exuberance as they speak about the blessings of God. They are too often speaking from a life of pleasure. Safety, security, affluence and overindulgence often define our understanding of God's blessing. Is it possible that when one travels the easy road in life, one becomes spiritually soft? Is suffering a form of spiritual exercise? Are Christians in the West suffering from spiritual obesity, fed to excess on the best things in life at the table of our local "pigs-are-us" buffet?
Meaning in life becomes clearer when we go through tough times. Suffering brings out many emotions in us. Some cry out for help, others rail against the foes. But it still hurts. Is there a lesson for us in suffering? Or is this just required of the few? The Bible gives us some indication when Paul writes in Roman 5:3,4 "...we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."
I can only conclude that North American "blessings" are not necessarily God's "blessings". There is something out there of more value. John Steinbeck, in his book "The Pearl" had it right when he told his story about the error of sacrificing all for something that was valuable but not priceless. We need to look for and find the "pearl of great price" that Christ refers to in His parable.
This issue leaves me with a bit of sanguine melancholy. Christ has not given me my affluence as a blessing to horde, but as a tool to serve. And I need to go through suffering to mature. Isn't there another way?
-Dr. Roger Gingerich
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Haiti Part II Episode II
I have many, many, many blindspots and biases, but I think I try very hard to keep an open, non-judgmental mind in viewing and weighing the values of the 'other'. However, the breathless confidence that some hold about how they are the sole keepers of truth and they are the only, privileged ones who have been given the mandate to bring it to those poor, black people gives me the creeps. I've written before of those who wore shirts that said, "God is now coming to Haiti" - presumptuous. Thinking that God has never been there previously. Thinking that they are the repositories of God. Thinking that the Church does not exist here, or does absolutely nothing.
It continues: the denigration of local pastors who spend long hours loving and praying for their countrymen. The assurance that parroting back the "sinner's prayer" allows them to tick off another "saved soul". The sheer arrogance in asserting that Haitians have never known love before, which is why we are so privileged to bring it to them (WHAT??). The worldview that assures itself that Haiti is a land of Satan that needs to suffer conquest and victory over it. All of it, heinous.
I think another friend, in another context, has put it better than I: http://outthereq.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-that-they.html
It continues: the denigration of local pastors who spend long hours loving and praying for their countrymen. The assurance that parroting back the "sinner's prayer" allows them to tick off another "saved soul". The sheer arrogance in asserting that Haitians have never known love before, which is why we are so privileged to bring it to them (WHAT??). The worldview that assures itself that Haiti is a land of Satan that needs to suffer conquest and victory over it. All of it, heinous.
I think another friend, in another context, has put it better than I: http://outthereq.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-that-they.html
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Haiti Part II Episode I
Cholera has a 50% mortality rate, if untreated. It is a horrible death of profuse vomiting and diarrhea, an undignified, dirty, leper-like death. Families have abandoned those who start showing signs of it, fearful of ending up with the same fate, leaving patients to die alone in the filth of their own feces. Other families have shown great courage and sacrifice in getting their loved ones to the hospital.
It is ridiculously curable; the simplicity of IV fluids is enough to cure the disease. That is all; the lack of clean water and the giving of clean water are both the cause, and the cure.
Part of this contributes to my rage here, watching those who lie, completely undignified, half-naked on our hospital cots with holes ripped open in the middle of the bed, so that they can simply defecate straight into deep buckets under their cots as they are too weak and sick to do their business in private. Rage that something as simple as clean water prevents this disease. Rage that 1 in 6 people on this planet lack access to clean water on a daily basis, and that one-third of our population lack access to basic sanitation.
I serve as the pediatrician here, and have been in charge of the Pediatric Ward (Lopital Kolera pou Timoun in Creole) since my arrival. My charges are the small babies to the teenagers. Everyday, I have witnessed the miracle of Lazarus, again and again, of those who were dead, but have been brought back to life. All for the sake of a few litres of clean water.
My littlest have been but several months old, tiny little critters, to teenagers that have made me laugh when they have gotten well enough that they can complain, over and over again of, "I'm booooorrrrred." (Thank God you're well enough to complain like a regular teenager!). Some have broken my heart in their stories of hunger and want, some have made me laugh with their smiles and their shenanigans (which prove to me how much better they've gotten), some have dozed off in my lap with their velvety chocolate fingers wrapped around my own relatively fat pale ones. This is the face of Jesus that I and my amazing Peds team have resuscitated and maintained and cured, with my nurses colouring and blowing balloons and bubbles for the children. I thank God for my team, for they were amazing women with huge skills and huge hearts, and certainly, though being the pediatrician for the week, I wouldn't have been able to do it without them.
It is ridiculously curable; the simplicity of IV fluids is enough to cure the disease. That is all; the lack of clean water and the giving of clean water are both the cause, and the cure.
Part of this contributes to my rage here, watching those who lie, completely undignified, half-naked on our hospital cots with holes ripped open in the middle of the bed, so that they can simply defecate straight into deep buckets under their cots as they are too weak and sick to do their business in private. Rage that something as simple as clean water prevents this disease. Rage that 1 in 6 people on this planet lack access to clean water on a daily basis, and that one-third of our population lack access to basic sanitation.
I serve as the pediatrician here, and have been in charge of the Pediatric Ward (Lopital Kolera pou Timoun in Creole) since my arrival. My charges are the small babies to the teenagers. Everyday, I have witnessed the miracle of Lazarus, again and again, of those who were dead, but have been brought back to life. All for the sake of a few litres of clean water.
My littlest have been but several months old, tiny little critters, to teenagers that have made me laugh when they have gotten well enough that they can complain, over and over again of, "I'm booooorrrrred." (Thank God you're well enough to complain like a regular teenager!). Some have broken my heart in their stories of hunger and want, some have made me laugh with their smiles and their shenanigans (which prove to me how much better they've gotten), some have dozed off in my lap with their velvety chocolate fingers wrapped around my own relatively fat pale ones. This is the face of Jesus that I and my amazing Peds team have resuscitated and maintained and cured, with my nurses colouring and blowing balloons and bubbles for the children. I thank God for my team, for they were amazing women with huge skills and huge hearts, and certainly, though being the pediatrician for the week, I wouldn't have been able to do it without them.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
FFT
May God bless you with a restless discomfort
about easy answer, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.
May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.
May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer
from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you
may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able,
with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.
And the blessing of God the Supreme Majesty and our Creator,
Jesus Christ the Incarnate Word Who is our Brother and Saviour,
and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Guide, be with you
and remain with you, this day and forevermore. Amen.
-Franciscan benediction
about easy answer, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.
May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.
May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer
from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you
may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able,
with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.
And the blessing of God the Supreme Majesty and our Creator,
Jesus Christ the Incarnate Word Who is our Brother and Saviour,
and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Guide, be with you
and remain with you, this day and forevermore. Amen.
-Franciscan benediction
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)