This carrier at work asked me the other day, half-joking of course, if I would be giving a sermon on Saturday morning. As I thought about it some, i realized it wasn't a bad idea. While out delivering papers yesterday I came up with an idea of how to connect the Christmas story to newspaper carriers. I am not sure if it quite works but this afternoon I wrote out a brief message. It would probably last no longer than Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. I thought I would share it with you all.
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Today is Christmas! For most people it really isn’t all that different from any other day of the week. There is nothing magical that happens at midnight to set apart this holy day from any other. And for many of us here today, our Christmas Day begins merely as an extension of Christmas Eve. The thing of it is that was how the first Christmas started too.
We all know the story so well that we could repeat it to countless others, and yet, it think we all secretly love to hear it again, hoping to discover something new in the text. We know Mary and Joseph were on their way to a small town and that upon their arrival they couldn’t find a place to stay in the inn so they ended up sleeping in a stable. It was the middle of the night when Jesus was born. Somewhere between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day Christ came into the world.
And the only people awake at that time of night were shepherds. They were nothing special. In fact, of all the people in the world to first receive the Gospel message, the Good News, it was lowly shepherds who were working through the night, away from their family and friends. It likely got rather cold during the night, and their vigil over their herds was one often unremarked upon. That was, unless something went wrong. And yet, it was to these shepherds that the angels first announced the birth of the baby Jesus. It wasn’t the King in Jerusalem, the Emperor in Rome, or the President in the White House who received the message first. It wasn’t the tax collectors and religious leaders of Israel or the CEOs of corporations who received the message first. It was a carpenter and his wife, a few solitary shepherds, night attendants at gas stations and newspaper carriers who first heard the Good News.
As we wait her this evening for the news of the day to arrive, we remember that as carriers we receive the news first. And our job is to get the news to others. As Christians our job is no different. In fact, most Christians could learn a thing from newspaper carriers about how to deliver the news. But the news we Christians need to pass on is not the news of the day. No. It is the Good News, the Gospel of Jesus. As Isaiah reminds us, a great light has been shed upon the people and that light is the Light of the World. That light is also the grace of God, our salvation. So as we go forth from this place this evening, bearing the news of the world, like Santa bears his gifts, we too bring Christ into the world. We deliver the Good News to all people, not just those customers who paid to receive it. We deliver the Good News in a fashion so that all can hear and understand, not just to a specific location. And we deliver the Good News simply and unadorned because there is no need for gift wraps.
As we all go forth from this place this Christmas Day let us remember that the Good News came first to those who kept vigil in the night. It came first to those who were not the powerful in the world. And that we too can be bearers of this Good News to others. Merry Christmas one and all.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Monday, December 20, 2004
"If you want to love God in truth, you must show it gladly, adoringly letting yourself be totally shatted by God."
I’ve been too much in my head these days and too little in the world. I marvel that this world is a physical construct and not some perceived reality, understood and categorized by the intellect and yet – I live within myself. Someone once wrote that the self is a world unto itself. Star Trek proclaimed that space was the final frontier. Others have argued that there are so many unexplored phenomenons on this world, why should we go looking outside of it. But do we truly understand ourselves. “Know thyself!” I spend too much time inside and not enough time outside but do I know myself any better than anyone else. The sad truth of the matter is the answer is “no.”
I can’t believe Christmas is at the end of the week. My parents kept telling me it would feel less like Christmas each year, until I have kids of my own again and that’ll last until they are old enough to have it not feel like Christmas. I work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. That is nothing new. I’ve done it before. And it certainly isn’t the reason this year doesn’t feel like Christmas. Something is missing. Two years ago it felt like Christmas. It wasn’t Lauren. It was having someone in my life to share that moment, to see things anew (even if she wasn’t here in person). I joked with my parents last spring that we should celebrate Christmas in Boston. I’m not there so things didn’t quite work out, but I still dream of it or next year. Christmas 2005 in Boston. It would be new and different. It’s not that I dislike tradition, because I love tradition, but there are so many things with the family right now that seem to really interfere with the spirit of Christmas.
Even as I write those words it sounds kind of “hokey” and not incredibly original. I was skimming though The Pocket Muse and it suggested I true writing about a sappy event (ie-Christmas) but without using traditional or familiar clichés (ie-chestnuts). I so want to write. All I’ve been thinking about this weekend is writing. Everywhere I go something writing related comes up and then I sit in front of my laptop and draw a blank. I don’t know where to begin. I’m scared. Terrified. I’m a planner and starting something like this without a clear idea of where I’m going… well, it is not something I want to try but sometime I’m going to have to just do it. I guess I just want to write it and be done with it because I know how excruciating the editing process it. I wrote something years ago and spent 4 years, off-and-on, editing the work and in the end I decided I need to start from scratch. So much of my life went into that story and naught has come of it but a headache and something off a learning experience. Kierkegaard has been on my mind lately and I am somewhat immersing myself in his writings. I’m working my way through Fear and Trembling and a collection of his writings, mostly excerpts and aphorisms. All because I want to write a comic book inspired by his interpretation of the Akeda. A comic book, of all mediums! I sat in church yesterday and spent most of the sermon brainstorming. Worship can be so many things, but a place to brainstorm about a story not even related at all to the sermon preached? Granted, I was thinking about faith, but still. SK talks about three stages in life: aesthetic, ethical and religious. It scares me to think I am trapped in the ethical stage, never able to make that leap across the Nietzschean abyss to the religious. Or perhaps it is the Kazantzakian abyss. Is there a difference?
I couldn’t quite explain why, but I hated being at work today and the littlest things annoyed me. I was upset w/ a fellow supervisor for the smallest slights, and he wasn’t even there to defend himself. The sometime jerk that I share my cubicle with said several things that made me want to throttle him a couple times. And I’m not a violent man. I know Mel, I should leave this job. I was sitting around this afternoon (Les called it a part-time job and he is so right so why do I stress so) and I realized I wanted a little project. It is good for me to have a little project to work on, something to engage my mind. And so I created something for myself. I complain about the difficulties, but in actuality I crave this because it is only then when I am fully engaged in this job and it comes close to fulfillment. I was watching Before Sunset tonight. Not a great movie but something is so intriguing about the story and the simplicity and honesty of it. And there was so much about romanticism and love that resonated with me.
I want to create my own holiday traditions. I want to experience Christmas anew. And for some reason it is locked in my head that the only way to do that is through a relationship with someone else. But that is nowhere to be found. I’ve got to move to Boston. Or anywhere. If I don’t leave here by this time next year, I fear I’ll die a little inside. Kristine, I managed to get out of the house for 4 hours Saturday afternoon. I went to get a Secret Santa gift for work, wandered around B&N and Borders – and stopped at work for a while. When I returned home I felt so incredibly bored and alone. Books and movies failed to fully engage me. Stepford Wives was okay but not great. I, Robot was better than I hoped but still a little too actiony for an Asimov adaptation. Friday I saw Lemony Snicket’s with Brian and Molly. That was really, surprisingly good, but getting drinks afterwards I started to feel like a 3rd Wheel. Not there fault. Why do I feel like I need such a clean break with my current life? Is it the cowards way out to seek something new rather than stick around and fix the old? Wow, what strange imagery to use to describe family traditions. Luther didn’t want to leave the Catholic church, he wanted to reform it. Families are sometimes more intractable than religious institutions. Sometimes. How incredibly selfish this all sounds. If you don't want to keep reading this, I don't blame you in the least. Although thoughts to the contrary would be welcome.
I can’t believe Christmas is at the end of the week. My parents kept telling me it would feel less like Christmas each year, until I have kids of my own again and that’ll last until they are old enough to have it not feel like Christmas. I work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. That is nothing new. I’ve done it before. And it certainly isn’t the reason this year doesn’t feel like Christmas. Something is missing. Two years ago it felt like Christmas. It wasn’t Lauren. It was having someone in my life to share that moment, to see things anew (even if she wasn’t here in person). I joked with my parents last spring that we should celebrate Christmas in Boston. I’m not there so things didn’t quite work out, but I still dream of it or next year. Christmas 2005 in Boston. It would be new and different. It’s not that I dislike tradition, because I love tradition, but there are so many things with the family right now that seem to really interfere with the spirit of Christmas.
Even as I write those words it sounds kind of “hokey” and not incredibly original. I was skimming though The Pocket Muse and it suggested I true writing about a sappy event (ie-Christmas) but without using traditional or familiar clichés (ie-chestnuts). I so want to write. All I’ve been thinking about this weekend is writing. Everywhere I go something writing related comes up and then I sit in front of my laptop and draw a blank. I don’t know where to begin. I’m scared. Terrified. I’m a planner and starting something like this without a clear idea of where I’m going… well, it is not something I want to try but sometime I’m going to have to just do it. I guess I just want to write it and be done with it because I know how excruciating the editing process it. I wrote something years ago and spent 4 years, off-and-on, editing the work and in the end I decided I need to start from scratch. So much of my life went into that story and naught has come of it but a headache and something off a learning experience. Kierkegaard has been on my mind lately and I am somewhat immersing myself in his writings. I’m working my way through Fear and Trembling and a collection of his writings, mostly excerpts and aphorisms. All because I want to write a comic book inspired by his interpretation of the Akeda. A comic book, of all mediums! I sat in church yesterday and spent most of the sermon brainstorming. Worship can be so many things, but a place to brainstorm about a story not even related at all to the sermon preached? Granted, I was thinking about faith, but still. SK talks about three stages in life: aesthetic, ethical and religious. It scares me to think I am trapped in the ethical stage, never able to make that leap across the Nietzschean abyss to the religious. Or perhaps it is the Kazantzakian abyss. Is there a difference?
I couldn’t quite explain why, but I hated being at work today and the littlest things annoyed me. I was upset w/ a fellow supervisor for the smallest slights, and he wasn’t even there to defend himself. The sometime jerk that I share my cubicle with said several things that made me want to throttle him a couple times. And I’m not a violent man. I know Mel, I should leave this job. I was sitting around this afternoon (Les called it a part-time job and he is so right so why do I stress so) and I realized I wanted a little project. It is good for me to have a little project to work on, something to engage my mind. And so I created something for myself. I complain about the difficulties, but in actuality I crave this because it is only then when I am fully engaged in this job and it comes close to fulfillment. I was watching Before Sunset tonight. Not a great movie but something is so intriguing about the story and the simplicity and honesty of it. And there was so much about romanticism and love that resonated with me.
I want to create my own holiday traditions. I want to experience Christmas anew. And for some reason it is locked in my head that the only way to do that is through a relationship with someone else. But that is nowhere to be found. I’ve got to move to Boston. Or anywhere. If I don’t leave here by this time next year, I fear I’ll die a little inside. Kristine, I managed to get out of the house for 4 hours Saturday afternoon. I went to get a Secret Santa gift for work, wandered around B&N and Borders – and stopped at work for a while. When I returned home I felt so incredibly bored and alone. Books and movies failed to fully engage me. Stepford Wives was okay but not great. I, Robot was better than I hoped but still a little too actiony for an Asimov adaptation. Friday I saw Lemony Snicket’s with Brian and Molly. That was really, surprisingly good, but getting drinks afterwards I started to feel like a 3rd Wheel. Not there fault. Why do I feel like I need such a clean break with my current life? Is it the cowards way out to seek something new rather than stick around and fix the old? Wow, what strange imagery to use to describe family traditions. Luther didn’t want to leave the Catholic church, he wanted to reform it. Families are sometimes more intractable than religious institutions. Sometimes. How incredibly selfish this all sounds. If you don't want to keep reading this, I don't blame you in the least. Although thoughts to the contrary would be welcome.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
“… but in the anguish lies the contradiction that can indeed make one sleepless.”
I know it’s been a while since my last blog and I really have no excuse except to say that I haven’t really felt “in the mood” to write. Which, when you think about it is a really poor reason not to write. There exists this mentality that you have to be in a certain mood to write. And there is no denying that moods effect what one writes about but it should never prevent one from writing. A far better answer might be to say I was at a loss what to write about but even that is a poor excuse because the very act of writing sometimes unlocks the floodgates and allows one to rush forth into the abysmal depth of the seas. I could claim, truly, that there was so much going through my head that to try to organize it would have resulted in a difficult series of disjointed passages. But even that is preferable to not writing. I was about to use the word “silence” but another impulse stopped me for in silence volumes can be said.
The other day I received the Journal of the American Academy of Religion. I joined last spring in an attempt to keep up with the academic work in religion. To be honest I had fallen away over the summer months, mostly because of other matters pressing. Only now, as I reapply to BU, have I realized I need to “get back into the swing of things.” Reading scholastic works is radically different from my other reading habits. I quickly scanned the table of content and found the first article was about the Akeda, or the binding of Isaac. It is perhaps one of the most interesting stories in the Bible. I am particularly fascinated by the tale and still have no idea what to make of it. I’ve only delved lightly into Kierkegaard’s version of it. Elie Wiesel provides some interesting Midrash on the subject that has also been enlightening.
Last year at this time, Professor Hoffmann told me about an article by Erich Auerbach called “Odysseus’ Scar.” I finally read it this evening. I hear that the rest of the Auerbach book is not worth the effort. And after reading this article I might agree. Auerbach is looking at Homer and the Old Testament as to examples of ancient texts, and how these texts can form a lens for reading contemporary texts. What captured my attention was his analysis of “foreground” and “background” which is the centerpiece of his work. Homer is a writer of great detail, foreground, but the Old Testament is a “background” text because the characters are fuzzy, hazy and so multilayered. Auerbach’s analysis is helpful for people studying the craft of writing for he highlights a couple approaches to character development but it seems to me the better approach and the one advocated by OSC and others is the latter, the “background.” In a way I was greatly disappointed in the Auerbach’s article because I though the idea of “scar” would be the key to reading the text. Several Jewish and Islamic texts highlight that Isaac/Ishmael bore a scar from the “sacrifice.” This would be in the same vein as the stigmata of Christ. Hoffmann suggested this article to me because I had suggested a connection between Israel/Jacob and Odysseus and he was pointing to another possible connection (this Israel/Odysseus connection is something still fermenting in the “background” of my mind but consider the possibilities).
Now I am stuck with the JAAR article, which has opened some other avenues to explore this stranger story. I find myself wanting to find a Levinas text, which explicitly looks and interprets Kierkegaard. Anything to help me understand the Akeda, and Kierkegaard, would be helpful. Of course, being close to Christmas and trying to save money instead of spend it I shall try to refrain from a purchase. If I was still in school I might check out the library, because the public library in Omaha is pretty sad when it comes to religious scholarship and texts. Although to be fair, the OPL did have several NK books, so they are not all bad. The particular bent of the Sherwood article was looking at the Akeda in light of some letters Muhammad Atta wrote. The scary side of this article comes when Sherwood argues that the silence of Isaac throughout the Biblical narrative is particularly frightening and in some ways is an act of terrorism. The victim has no choice. So how is Abraham any different from the terrorists of today? They all claim to be acting in accord with God. This is the trouble SK seems to find in the text which is why he splits his reading into two: the ethical and the religious. The ethical way of stating God’s command/test/temptation is: Abraham is to kill his son. The religious way: Abraham is to sacrifice his son. But are we talking merely matters of symantics. What Sherwood doesn’t push, but the idea that captures me completely (re: comments about Potok) is the silence of Isaac. What do we learn when we hear nothing from Isaac? SK talks about this text in “fear and trembling” but what is he most afraid of: a God who is unethical but religious or Abraham who is unethical but religious? One must assume it is the former, although considering how significant Abraham is to several religions, we cannot completely dismiss the latter. And what does it mean to think of God as immoral but still religious? And can we think of God as immoral since the morality we have is created by God and thus – according to my limited understanding of Aquinas – God can chance the natural order whenever God desires. So, the unethical becomes ethical again when it is framed in terms of the religious. I am bumbling my way through this interpretation. Any counter arguments are most welcome. I am still processing. I’ve read the article twice because I couldn’t fully grasp it. And, again, I wonder what to make of the silence of Isaac. And the silence of God. God commands Abraham but is absent throughout the rest of the text. God does not intervene but a messenger does.
It is good to re-engage my brain. But what of my heart? I was greatly troubled last week. There was so much going through my head and heart and soul since I returned from Houston. Something in what I read touched me deeply. And yet that doesn’t fully explain some of my angst and anguish, chief being this overwhelming sense of loneliness. I finally got a chance to talk w/ Kristine the other night and she, quite emphatically, told me to stop hiding in my room and get out. I seriously considered taking her advice tonight, but I restrained myself for one main reason. Normally I would be at BS tonight but I opted not to go this week. I am taking a sabbatical of sorts from BS. Last week was the “straw that broke the camel’s back.” I feel I’ve been hitting my head against a brick wall and all I do is walk away dazed and confused. I, in essence, shut myself down during study last week because I was not getting anywhere w/ my comments and/or questions. All I seemed capable of doing was providing some needed historical and theological information, to fill in the gaps. I hadn’t noticed it before but every time I went to BS I was tired and every time I returned I was exhausted. Jen assures me that my presence will be missed, but I am really doubting that right now. I can’t quite figure out what it is that bothers me the most. If I could I might be able to remedy it myself and/or offer a suggestion how to fix things. I know I approach the study differently that others. I have different interests and I bring different things to the table, as we all do. I know that is part of it, but it doesn’t explain the whole of it. I feel a little like I am missing something this week though because I am not interacting w/ others. There is no volleyball tomorrow. Perhaps something will come up for this weekend. I had hoped to hang-out w/ Molly last Friday but she was busy. I ended up seeing Finding Neverland, which I heartily recommend to everyone.
This sense of being so utterly alone sparked me to check out Yahoo! Personals. I keep going back to that from time-to-time but it feels so fake, and forced. Kristine told me not to want it so much. Easier to say than do. And I’ve been better about it but something inside of me snapped and I felt a need to connect w/ people. It’s not happening for me.
I guess to return to my point… I am staying in, trying to be productive w/ this time I would normally being BSing. Instead I’ve been reading Auerbach, and soon SK. Quiet time is needed. I’ve been feeling ansty lately, so perhaps getting out would be good. I got out for a little bit last night, thinking I might get a haircut – something different – but I chickened out. The question I keep asking myself is why I am so bothered by the idea of a new hairstyle and yet so sure I need something different.
I think I’ve run out of steam for tonight. My head is tired and about to explode. Then, of course, I’ve written so much tonight. If I write more frequently, perhaps these would not be nearly as long. SK, here I come.
The other day I received the Journal of the American Academy of Religion. I joined last spring in an attempt to keep up with the academic work in religion. To be honest I had fallen away over the summer months, mostly because of other matters pressing. Only now, as I reapply to BU, have I realized I need to “get back into the swing of things.” Reading scholastic works is radically different from my other reading habits. I quickly scanned the table of content and found the first article was about the Akeda, or the binding of Isaac. It is perhaps one of the most interesting stories in the Bible. I am particularly fascinated by the tale and still have no idea what to make of it. I’ve only delved lightly into Kierkegaard’s version of it. Elie Wiesel provides some interesting Midrash on the subject that has also been enlightening.
Last year at this time, Professor Hoffmann told me about an article by Erich Auerbach called “Odysseus’ Scar.” I finally read it this evening. I hear that the rest of the Auerbach book is not worth the effort. And after reading this article I might agree. Auerbach is looking at Homer and the Old Testament as to examples of ancient texts, and how these texts can form a lens for reading contemporary texts. What captured my attention was his analysis of “foreground” and “background” which is the centerpiece of his work. Homer is a writer of great detail, foreground, but the Old Testament is a “background” text because the characters are fuzzy, hazy and so multilayered. Auerbach’s analysis is helpful for people studying the craft of writing for he highlights a couple approaches to character development but it seems to me the better approach and the one advocated by OSC and others is the latter, the “background.” In a way I was greatly disappointed in the Auerbach’s article because I though the idea of “scar” would be the key to reading the text. Several Jewish and Islamic texts highlight that Isaac/Ishmael bore a scar from the “sacrifice.” This would be in the same vein as the stigmata of Christ. Hoffmann suggested this article to me because I had suggested a connection between Israel/Jacob and Odysseus and he was pointing to another possible connection (this Israel/Odysseus connection is something still fermenting in the “background” of my mind but consider the possibilities).
Now I am stuck with the JAAR article, which has opened some other avenues to explore this stranger story. I find myself wanting to find a Levinas text, which explicitly looks and interprets Kierkegaard. Anything to help me understand the Akeda, and Kierkegaard, would be helpful. Of course, being close to Christmas and trying to save money instead of spend it I shall try to refrain from a purchase. If I was still in school I might check out the library, because the public library in Omaha is pretty sad when it comes to religious scholarship and texts. Although to be fair, the OPL did have several NK books, so they are not all bad. The particular bent of the Sherwood article was looking at the Akeda in light of some letters Muhammad Atta wrote. The scary side of this article comes when Sherwood argues that the silence of Isaac throughout the Biblical narrative is particularly frightening and in some ways is an act of terrorism. The victim has no choice. So how is Abraham any different from the terrorists of today? They all claim to be acting in accord with God. This is the trouble SK seems to find in the text which is why he splits his reading into two: the ethical and the religious. The ethical way of stating God’s command/test/temptation is: Abraham is to kill his son. The religious way: Abraham is to sacrifice his son. But are we talking merely matters of symantics. What Sherwood doesn’t push, but the idea that captures me completely (re: comments about Potok) is the silence of Isaac. What do we learn when we hear nothing from Isaac? SK talks about this text in “fear and trembling” but what is he most afraid of: a God who is unethical but religious or Abraham who is unethical but religious? One must assume it is the former, although considering how significant Abraham is to several religions, we cannot completely dismiss the latter. And what does it mean to think of God as immoral but still religious? And can we think of God as immoral since the morality we have is created by God and thus – according to my limited understanding of Aquinas – God can chance the natural order whenever God desires. So, the unethical becomes ethical again when it is framed in terms of the religious. I am bumbling my way through this interpretation. Any counter arguments are most welcome. I am still processing. I’ve read the article twice because I couldn’t fully grasp it. And, again, I wonder what to make of the silence of Isaac. And the silence of God. God commands Abraham but is absent throughout the rest of the text. God does not intervene but a messenger does.
It is good to re-engage my brain. But what of my heart? I was greatly troubled last week. There was so much going through my head and heart and soul since I returned from Houston. Something in what I read touched me deeply. And yet that doesn’t fully explain some of my angst and anguish, chief being this overwhelming sense of loneliness. I finally got a chance to talk w/ Kristine the other night and she, quite emphatically, told me to stop hiding in my room and get out. I seriously considered taking her advice tonight, but I restrained myself for one main reason. Normally I would be at BS tonight but I opted not to go this week. I am taking a sabbatical of sorts from BS. Last week was the “straw that broke the camel’s back.” I feel I’ve been hitting my head against a brick wall and all I do is walk away dazed and confused. I, in essence, shut myself down during study last week because I was not getting anywhere w/ my comments and/or questions. All I seemed capable of doing was providing some needed historical and theological information, to fill in the gaps. I hadn’t noticed it before but every time I went to BS I was tired and every time I returned I was exhausted. Jen assures me that my presence will be missed, but I am really doubting that right now. I can’t quite figure out what it is that bothers me the most. If I could I might be able to remedy it myself and/or offer a suggestion how to fix things. I know I approach the study differently that others. I have different interests and I bring different things to the table, as we all do. I know that is part of it, but it doesn’t explain the whole of it. I feel a little like I am missing something this week though because I am not interacting w/ others. There is no volleyball tomorrow. Perhaps something will come up for this weekend. I had hoped to hang-out w/ Molly last Friday but she was busy. I ended up seeing Finding Neverland, which I heartily recommend to everyone.
This sense of being so utterly alone sparked me to check out Yahoo! Personals. I keep going back to that from time-to-time but it feels so fake, and forced. Kristine told me not to want it so much. Easier to say than do. And I’ve been better about it but something inside of me snapped and I felt a need to connect w/ people. It’s not happening for me.
I guess to return to my point… I am staying in, trying to be productive w/ this time I would normally being BSing. Instead I’ve been reading Auerbach, and soon SK. Quiet time is needed. I’ve been feeling ansty lately, so perhaps getting out would be good. I got out for a little bit last night, thinking I might get a haircut – something different – but I chickened out. The question I keep asking myself is why I am so bothered by the idea of a new hairstyle and yet so sure I need something different.
I think I’ve run out of steam for tonight. My head is tired and about to explode. Then, of course, I’ve written so much tonight. If I write more frequently, perhaps these would not be nearly as long. SK, here I come.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
"A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something."
I teared up in public today. Twice. I’ve never felt completely comfortable crying, but to find myself surrounded by people and knowing that there are tears streaming down my face. I can hear some friends insist that it is okay, and that most of the time people are not even paying attention to you. But it still feels like the whole world is watching you. As I type these words I am in an airplane flying from Houston to Denver, where I’ll wait for my connecting flight home. I had trouble sleeping last night. The last two mornings I had been woken around 6am by the alarm clock in the room next door, an unoccupied room, going off but that didn’t happen this morning. I just couldn’t sleep.
I went to bed last night because I was engrossed in a new book, The Promise by Chaim Potok. I hadn’t planned to stay up passed midnight reading but I couldn’t help myself. I was thoroughly engrossed in the story. It was a sequel, of sorts, to The Chosen. Several weeks ago while walking around Borders I happened about the second book, and a day later I went out and purchased it, but I didn’t read it right away. I’ve been rather leery of books lately, for whatever reason. When I was packing for this trip I slipped those two books into my back. I started reading The Chosen Thursday night or sometime Friday. It was a book I had read in college, and meant to return to and some point but had never gotten back to it. I had loaned it on to a couple people insisting it was a must read. I wanted to reread the first book before I tackled the second and I was most glad I did. I was amazed at this story and how involved I became in the reading of it. I was at a museum yesterday afternoon, and I had it in my back pocket so I would have something to read while standing in line or waiting at a restaurant. I vaguely remember tearing up then today but I was particularly struck today as I sat in the airport, waiting for my flight. We were about to board but I couldn’t completely tear myself away from the story as it got to a really emotional segment. To be clear, I finished The Chosen yesterday evening and was nearing the end of The Promise. The sad part for me right now is that I now have no more reading material for my flight, an hour to go on this leg and nearly 2 hours on the next. The second book isn’t nearly as good or impactful as the first, but still worth the read. And there were so many allusions to other works that it has ignited my desire to read more. I find myself wanting to pull out Camus again, finally tackle Joyce and perhaps steer my way through Buber. Not that the book is about any of these authors but they are mentioned and I sense I would understand better if I read these works. All books I’ve had “on my shelf” for years but haven’t finished or even started, as the case of Joyce reveals. It also makes me a little sad to think what we seem to have lost in the area of education.
I’m going to have to stop writing soon. The quarters are quite cramped on this flight. I have a gentleman in the seat in front of me who put his seat back, w/ no regard to me aat all. And I’m barely able to type; I certainly can’t see what I am writing. I suppose this would be a moment when having a smaller computer would be nice, but I still love my big, widescreen laptop. I shall write more later. There is so much to say. Words do matter.
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I’m in Denver right now, waiting for my next flight. We arrived here a little late, but I had a 2 hour layover anyway, so it hasn’t affected me adversely. I was sitting at the back of the previous plane and I found myself a little impatient w/ the people around me as we disembarked. I had that same feeling last night as I was trying to navigate The Galleria mall in Houston. I think the Quizno’s for lunch helped settle me down some. I just wish I could find a place to plug in my laptop so I am not draining my batteries. I also wish I could find free wireless internet access here. Too bad I’m not an AT&T Wireless user.
The last few days have been rather full and I kept telling myself I should be writing, trying to put my thoughts down on paper (in or out of order), but I kept putting it off. And now I am sitting here completely unsure of what to say. There is so much going through my head right now. Mostly about silence, and words. Last time I was flying through Denver I had a layover so I could see my friend Mandy. I think that was the last time I saw her: 3.5 years ago. It was March or April of 2001, right before I decide between PLTS and Gettysburg for seminary. Odd how those moments come back to haunt you years later. It would not be possible this time around because of the amount of security throughout airports these days. As I sat at the back of the plane, staring over the heads of the passengers in front of me, I was reminded of riding in a bus in January, doing the same thing. I wanted to close that memory off, but wasn’t able to do that. I was talking to Ivy about movies the other night. I had brought a couple dozen DVDs w/ me and one of them was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Somedays it would be wonderful to have that procedure. There is indeed a blessing to forgetfulness but the greater gift, the greater charisma if you will is memory.
As I write those words, there is a Jewish feel to them; or at least it is to my ears. It is the word “memory.” There is a Holocaust museum in Houston. I did not get a chance to visit it but I was reminded of my visit to the one in DC. It took me 2 years of living in that are before I could work up the courage and nerve to go. I was scared of what it would do to me but I am glad I went. Remembrance is important. Memorializing is important. I suppose I am in a Jewish state of mind after reading Potok. My mind wanders to Wiesel, mostly because I so wish I was at BU and able to take a class from him. It’ll happen, I have faith. But the waiting is the harder part of valor. Waiting is also the greater gift. I am being quite allusiory today and I am not sure how I feel about that. I was writing little piece once and I couldn’t help but constantly refer to someone else’s thoughts. Ivy was the one who pointed this out to me and asked me, “What do you think?” Thinking for ourselves is a scary business. It is so much easier to let others think for you. But how do people do that? What madness.
I ended up at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Odd for me, I know. I thought about driving to the Space Center, but since I had been to NASA, twice, I thought I might try something different. There was an IMAX showing of Santa vs the Snowman (this one was not in 3D L). But the main reason for going was a display about the Dead Sea Scrolls. I thought Cas might be a little jealous. I was so glad I went but confused by why it was at that particular museum. It seemed more appropriate to a history museum. I had a similar thought this summer seeing a baseball exhibit at the Smithsonian. That one was at the Natural History not American History museum, but oh well. I was lucky to have someone from Wittenberg in town, Dr Stephan Rhein. He too wanted to see the exhibit, so we met up there and he paid for my ticket. On top of that, the church which was hosting the exhibit had a pastor whose husband was a professor of Hebrew literature. He was our tour guide. There were written placards and a pre-recorded audio commentary, but his answers to my bombarding questions were far more enlightening that anything I heard on those headphones. What has been lost from time and memory? If anything though, the exhibit showed that there is still some hope that what was lost can be recovered.
I need to go before my computer completely dies on me. It’ll be a long flight w/out something to read. I thought about bringing an additional book but I didn’t want to have my bags too full and I honestly didn’t expect I would need it. Next time I’ll trust my instincts more.
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I am home now, but too tired to write anymore so I shall leave it at this.
I went to bed last night because I was engrossed in a new book, The Promise by Chaim Potok. I hadn’t planned to stay up passed midnight reading but I couldn’t help myself. I was thoroughly engrossed in the story. It was a sequel, of sorts, to The Chosen. Several weeks ago while walking around Borders I happened about the second book, and a day later I went out and purchased it, but I didn’t read it right away. I’ve been rather leery of books lately, for whatever reason. When I was packing for this trip I slipped those two books into my back. I started reading The Chosen Thursday night or sometime Friday. It was a book I had read in college, and meant to return to and some point but had never gotten back to it. I had loaned it on to a couple people insisting it was a must read. I wanted to reread the first book before I tackled the second and I was most glad I did. I was amazed at this story and how involved I became in the reading of it. I was at a museum yesterday afternoon, and I had it in my back pocket so I would have something to read while standing in line or waiting at a restaurant. I vaguely remember tearing up then today but I was particularly struck today as I sat in the airport, waiting for my flight. We were about to board but I couldn’t completely tear myself away from the story as it got to a really emotional segment. To be clear, I finished The Chosen yesterday evening and was nearing the end of The Promise. The sad part for me right now is that I now have no more reading material for my flight, an hour to go on this leg and nearly 2 hours on the next. The second book isn’t nearly as good or impactful as the first, but still worth the read. And there were so many allusions to other works that it has ignited my desire to read more. I find myself wanting to pull out Camus again, finally tackle Joyce and perhaps steer my way through Buber. Not that the book is about any of these authors but they are mentioned and I sense I would understand better if I read these works. All books I’ve had “on my shelf” for years but haven’t finished or even started, as the case of Joyce reveals. It also makes me a little sad to think what we seem to have lost in the area of education.
I’m going to have to stop writing soon. The quarters are quite cramped on this flight. I have a gentleman in the seat in front of me who put his seat back, w/ no regard to me aat all. And I’m barely able to type; I certainly can’t see what I am writing. I suppose this would be a moment when having a smaller computer would be nice, but I still love my big, widescreen laptop. I shall write more later. There is so much to say. Words do matter.
<>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><>
I’m in Denver right now, waiting for my next flight. We arrived here a little late, but I had a 2 hour layover anyway, so it hasn’t affected me adversely. I was sitting at the back of the previous plane and I found myself a little impatient w/ the people around me as we disembarked. I had that same feeling last night as I was trying to navigate The Galleria mall in Houston. I think the Quizno’s for lunch helped settle me down some. I just wish I could find a place to plug in my laptop so I am not draining my batteries. I also wish I could find free wireless internet access here. Too bad I’m not an AT&T Wireless user.
The last few days have been rather full and I kept telling myself I should be writing, trying to put my thoughts down on paper (in or out of order), but I kept putting it off. And now I am sitting here completely unsure of what to say. There is so much going through my head right now. Mostly about silence, and words. Last time I was flying through Denver I had a layover so I could see my friend Mandy. I think that was the last time I saw her: 3.5 years ago. It was March or April of 2001, right before I decide between PLTS and Gettysburg for seminary. Odd how those moments come back to haunt you years later. It would not be possible this time around because of the amount of security throughout airports these days. As I sat at the back of the plane, staring over the heads of the passengers in front of me, I was reminded of riding in a bus in January, doing the same thing. I wanted to close that memory off, but wasn’t able to do that. I was talking to Ivy about movies the other night. I had brought a couple dozen DVDs w/ me and one of them was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Somedays it would be wonderful to have that procedure. There is indeed a blessing to forgetfulness but the greater gift, the greater charisma if you will is memory.
As I write those words, there is a Jewish feel to them; or at least it is to my ears. It is the word “memory.” There is a Holocaust museum in Houston. I did not get a chance to visit it but I was reminded of my visit to the one in DC. It took me 2 years of living in that are before I could work up the courage and nerve to go. I was scared of what it would do to me but I am glad I went. Remembrance is important. Memorializing is important. I suppose I am in a Jewish state of mind after reading Potok. My mind wanders to Wiesel, mostly because I so wish I was at BU and able to take a class from him. It’ll happen, I have faith. But the waiting is the harder part of valor. Waiting is also the greater gift. I am being quite allusiory today and I am not sure how I feel about that. I was writing little piece once and I couldn’t help but constantly refer to someone else’s thoughts. Ivy was the one who pointed this out to me and asked me, “What do you think?” Thinking for ourselves is a scary business. It is so much easier to let others think for you. But how do people do that? What madness.
I ended up at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Odd for me, I know. I thought about driving to the Space Center, but since I had been to NASA, twice, I thought I might try something different. There was an IMAX showing of Santa vs the Snowman (this one was not in 3D L). But the main reason for going was a display about the Dead Sea Scrolls. I thought Cas might be a little jealous. I was so glad I went but confused by why it was at that particular museum. It seemed more appropriate to a history museum. I had a similar thought this summer seeing a baseball exhibit at the Smithsonian. That one was at the Natural History not American History museum, but oh well. I was lucky to have someone from Wittenberg in town, Dr Stephan Rhein. He too wanted to see the exhibit, so we met up there and he paid for my ticket. On top of that, the church which was hosting the exhibit had a pastor whose husband was a professor of Hebrew literature. He was our tour guide. There were written placards and a pre-recorded audio commentary, but his answers to my bombarding questions were far more enlightening that anything I heard on those headphones. What has been lost from time and memory? If anything though, the exhibit showed that there is still some hope that what was lost can be recovered.
I need to go before my computer completely dies on me. It’ll be a long flight w/out something to read. I thought about bringing an additional book but I didn’t want to have my bags too full and I honestly didn’t expect I would need it. Next time I’ll trust my instincts more.
<>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><> <>< ><>
I am home now, but too tired to write anymore so I shall leave it at this.
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