Egregious Reader

Yesterday's daily office reading was from Daniel 5. It is very much worth reading as it is a strange and intense story. The original "writing on the wall" story. A powerful king, under the influence of alcohol (v. 2) decided to bring out Yahweh's dishes for a drink. So this brings up an interesting warning about drunkenness. Calvin says "we must use wine soberly, that it may invigorate not only the body but the mind and the senses, and may never weaken, or enervate, or stupify our bodily or mental powers." He goes on to tell of a vulgar and common proverb ---"pride springs from drunkenness. For this reason the poets supposed Bacchus (the god of wine) to have horns, since intemperate men are always puffed up, and the most wretched fancy themselves kings. What then must happen to monarchs, when in their forgetfulness they dream themselves kings of kings, and even dieties?" Read the rest of the story to see. Calvin and the book of Daniel brings up an

The picture is from a Simpsons where Homer is walking on a beach in Brazil, someone shouts at him being an arrogant American and Homer is perplexed that they were able to pick him out so easily. This is a post from my original blog from last year. It was one of my best ever, so I thought I would repost. I don't know if that is a blog-sin. I guess I am simply "exporting" which at least is an option on my "dashboard." A theory I have of late is that economy and capitalism, or more precisely the greedy men making all the money, are quite happy to push Americans (and maybe the whole world) toward more and more autonomy and individual choice, labeling it freedom. They have reason to do this on both sides of the equation. First, this creates loads of new business, not only through overbuying due to choice, but the service economy is booming due to the impoverishment of "relational capital." As more of us seek to increase our financial capital we do so at th

Once there was a culture so malicious, yet banal that Christians felt they were drowning. The culture embraced them, persecution ended, but the violence of propaganda and the pagan way of life constantly assailed them. Many were sinking deeper and deeper into this poison culture. The spirit of the age was seductive and constant with its promises of happiness and material success. The constant refrain could be summed up as: "Keep your spirituality, that is something you enjoy ... just join us in every other way." And so the church became wealthy and sick. One famous story describes Christians walking through a Roman church. One comments to the other, "Have you ever seen such riches?" The other sadly references the story in Acts; "Silver and gold we have in abundance, but the power to raise the sick is gone from us." So some of the saints decided to flee from this shipwreck in search of find land on which to stand. They ran to the desert. Without effort, Nou

And he is very good. He is such an amazing boy. He is very sweet, often writing love notes to me and his mama. He is smart, reading and writing and remembers everything. And he is very athletic. That top picture is from our backyard, if you look close you can see that he busted the tee off its base and it is flipping through the air while the ball is headed over the fence.

"It used to be that I could think of art as a refuge from such troubles. From the imperfections of life, one could take refuge in the perfections of art. On could read a good poem--or better, write one. Art was what was truly permanent, therefore what truly mattered. I know longer think that way. That is because I now live in my subject. My subject is my place in the world, and I live in my place." ---- Wendell Berry Damage This is some of what I was trying to get at in my last post. I want to live in my subject and be writing about what I am living. My subject is my place in the world, and I live in my place. Abraham Heschel said that right living is like a work of art, the product of a vision and the wrestling of concrete situations. That is also some of what I am getting at.

There is a great danger in art ... it is the same dehumanizing danger in science and an unusual connection between art and science. It is a danger that some artists, like Wendell Berry, are much aware of and others, like Nick Cave whom I reference, are not. I developed a dislike for the transient, yet permanency, of love poetry when I listened to Nick Cave's spoken word essay called the Secret Life of a Love Song. It is really good, he makes the bold statement that a love song is trying to through a sheet over the invisible God so we can see him for a moment. However, the part I didn't like is when he talked about the transience of the relationship and the permanence of a love song. He said that women come and go, but the love song endures. When he said that it turns something in my stomach toward love songs and all writers in a sense. It made me bound and determined (though I regularly fail) to only write what I was living and to never think that something I write is more impo

Erick Erikson argued on the basis of his clinical experience that adults stagnate in self-absorption unless they take an interest in the next generation. If they do take such an interest they are likely to become “generative.” Being generative moves one towards a wise and satisfying old age. The self-absorbed, however, move toward despair. They become “elderlies,” distinguished only by old age, instead of “elders,” who quietly live up to their role as bearers of wisdom and dignity for the next generation. I am quoting this directly from a paper by Jerome Berryman called Children And Mature Spirituality. That short section really stuck out to me because it seems that we living out a world of "elderlies" and are all in danger of living and dying unto ourselves, alone. In the men's meeting at Trinity we have been talking about the danger of men being alone and the need to have mentors and be mentors. It was really powerful teaching (again, if nothing else, simply because of

This morning I followed the service in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer for my morning prayer time. It was very good for me. The language is all old English but the truths and the power of the prayers is not lost at all. And it involves confession of sin, readings, songs, apostles creed, the Lord's prayer and prayers for grace, mercy, peace, our nation, the church. Here were two of my favorite parts. This is the prayer of confession of sin: ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father; We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders. Spare thou them, O God, who confess their faults. Restore thou those who are penitent; According to thy promises declared unto mankind in

This is one of those bits of poetry that is so random it could be open for much interpretation. I still kind of like it though. Sometimes I just try and write a poem to write one ... so a lot of time they come to nothing. It's ok if you think this is an example of nothing, but I kind of liked it upon re-reading: Broaken bakcs undr ground dove hight dropping speed of light orbit still moonshine drinkin' fall away again fall apart.

What is love if separated from its binding commitment? Love is to be bound and how do we find ourselves bound and who do we bind ourselves to? Is not love a dangerous thing? How can it be safe to entertain being bound? Yet we play with words like love all the time. We love so much ... do we consider love's implications? Love is a tie that binds. Love is an affirmation that goes to pieces the moment we flake out and desert the one we pronounced it to. You cannot tell someone you love them, you applaud their existence, "It is good that you exist!" and then turn your back or walk away. But that means that we must use greater care when we say such things. Surely, there is a limitation to your love. God is Spirit and that is a good thing ... we are not, we are time and place, flesh and blood. We have limits that must be acknowledged. We must be prudent lovers. And what about giving up altogether. That is only to embrace a homelessness that is alien but natural. Mankind is spl

Yesterday morning my dad spoke with Trinity Men and shared about the importance of being connected as a man. He told about how he grew up on a farm with his Grandpa next door and his great Grandpa living behind his Grandpa. SO four generations all within sightline. He said that his dad and Grandpa both worked so a lot of the chores around the farm were left to him. He mentioned that chores were not assignments as much as common responsibility ... everybody on the farm worked. And the one to help little Larry (my dad) was his great Grandpa. They never planned out when they would meet up in the field ... it was just that when my dad went out to work, within minutes there was great Grandpa by his side. He was the one who talked about the world and life and struggle and farm work and economy and women with. He didn't have any education, couldn't read or write, couldn't drive a car ... but he loved my dad and was there for him day in and day out. This was a powerful story to me.

Christ in his mercy has forgiven us our sins. Christ in his mercy has set our eyes upon GOD and let us see him first upon a cross. By as early as 200 AD we know that Christians were crossing themselves as a defense from temptation and a shield against evil. The cross is at the very heart of the gospel we have received. How many pieces can we break into just marveling at this fact. The first Exodus involved a miracle of creation and the drowning of the Egyptian military. GOD is powerful and Israel was saved out of slavery. The second Exodus comes as the wounded Word hangs upon that cursed tree, blood coursing through the torn Word-made-flesh. We look upon a wicked death and see our savior and our King. I know we are in Easter and past Good Friday ... but I am still thinking of the cross. I keep thinking about it. Here is Tertullian (200AD): At every forward step and movement, at ever going in and out, when we put on our clothes and shoes, when we bathe, when we sit at table, when we lig

O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the coming of the third day, and rise with him to newness of life; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. These are the readings for Holy Saturday service. Old Testament Job 14:1-14 Psalm 130, or 31:1-5 Epistle 1 Peter 4:1-8 Gospel Matthew 27:57-66, or John 19:38-42 On Holy Saturday, the Body of our Lord lay in a tomb. Job says that a mortal, born of a woman, is few of days and full of trouble. We come up like a flower and wither ... we flee like a shadow and do not last. The Son of God, our Messiah and King, joined us even in our witheringness ... like a flower struck down. Job continues explaining that there is hope for a tree cut down, but no hope for us. When mortals die, they are laid low. When humans expire, where are they? Mortals lie lo

Lent has been hard for me this year. I have failed often in my attempt at self-denial. More than anything I just feel overwhelmed in my mind and keep letting myself off the hook for discipline using this feeling as my excuse. But all of it has forced me to think about Jesus Christ a lot. He is our King and as our King he came among us to lay down his life. On this night he gave his body and blood away in the bread and wine ... he, as Austin Farrar writes, "has no business left in this world, but to die." Jesus is at work inside of us this week (and every week). He is at work through his cross. It is a weeping sign for us who are sinners as we look upon those bruises and stripes and wounds. It is a triumphant sign when we look upon his countenance ... He who with his last gasps would pronounce forgiveness over all of us, unite a homeless widow with a friendless son, and welcome a thief into his kingdom. He finished the work.

"Of late years, wealth has made us greedy, and self-indulgence has brought us, through every form of sensual excess, to be, if I may so put it, in love with death." (Livy, History of Rome ) Too obvious to say ... Livy is writing before or around the time of Jesus Christ. I know within some circles the comparisons of Rome and America are tired and overdrawn ... but this specifically connected with me when I read it today. Here is one of my favorite parts from The Second Coming by Walker Percy. The main character has been contemplating suicide and in a way even attempted it. Here we have him hitting on something: " for all the world like a man who has hit upon the solution to a problem which had vexed him for years." " Ha, there is a secret after all, he said. But to know the secret answer, you must first know the secret question. The question is, who is the enemy? Not to know the name of the enemy is already to have been killed by him. Ha, he said, dancing, sn

Today is Monday of Holy Week and I find myself thinking about my own weakness. I had a mental picture of sitting at my desk (which faces out with my books on two shelves behind me) and then them falling and crushing me. I got a call from my dad about another friend of mine (from the church I grew up in) who is having a malignant tumor removed from his colon. He is younger than me. The world is in great pain and many I know are struggling. And yet, Jesus gave his back to those who struck him, and his cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; he did not hide his face from insult and spitting. (Isaiah 50:6) It is in his very wounds that we can hide and it is his body and blood that will save us to life everlasting. Jesus, betrayed with a kiss, Have mercy upon us. Jesus, judged worthy of death, Have mercy upon us. Jesus, spit upon, blindfolded, and struck with blows Have mercy upon us. Jesus, bruised and scourged for our iniquities, Have mercy upon us. Jesus, laden with

And found again Lord I Believe by Austin Farrer. I am sitting on my porch crying, reading his sermon on I believe in Jesus Christ our Lord who was crucified. "The proud men have hung me up, still breathing, between the earth and sky. This is their cunning, their art of propaganda, to nail up a living placard, the enemy of mankind ... Speaking of someone's opposition to our schemes, we say lightheartedly: 'I'll soon fix him, never you worry.' Jesus had been a trouble to the priests, but now Pilate had fixed him for them, so they did not need to worry. He could not stir a finger to trouble them any more. If he moved an inch it was an agony. This was the sting of crucifixion, that you had them fixed." Then he falls into a contemplation of his pierced hands: "Those hands had not been sparing of their healing touch; and yet Jesus did not come to heal the body; had he been free, he would not, perhaps, have sought out the sick. Those hands, in a gesture of forc