links for 2007-11-01
October 31, 07 by ed-
A theologian makes some provocative remarks concerning 9-11. Good luck sleeping at night after you read this article.
We had eight trick or treaters come to our home tonight for Halloween! This is a fantastic record that smashes the previous tally of three at our in-law-style apartment in Doylestown, PA.
Even with our dark dirt road located ten minutes out of town with houses spread along a two mile stretch before they are concentrated in any kind of way, eight brave souls literally traveled over the river, through the fields, and along the woods to our door step.
We rewarded them with cheap candy.
And in the interest of full disclosure, I should add that we had 7 actual children who received candy. One of those kids in costume was held by his father (who was not in costume). But his mother gladly put forward a bag in place of the boy who clung to his dad. The mother was decked out in a little leopard outfit complete with high heels and kitty cat ears. So the official tally is 7 candy eaters and 8 dressed up in costume.
The highlight of our evening was the lady who brought her two daughters down the two-mile stretch of road with one on a horse and the other on a pony. It was the coolest thing I have ever seen for Halloween. They also brought along their teenage exchange student from India who was really enjoying the spoils of her first Halloween.
I saw them working their way up someone’s driveway on my way home, but I didn’t notice which way they were going after their stop. While tapping away at the computer, Julie heard them coming up our driveway and walked out to meet them. After passing along the candy Julie got to pet the horses.
But alas, that was both the climax and end of our low-key Halloween. I spent the rest of the evening working on one of the study guides for my theology book, while Julie laid on the couch trying to read in the midst of Baxter launching herself from the floor onto Julie’s chest. Judging by Julie’s yelps, Baxter also bit her a few times … we need to work on that.
Baxter is the fourth rabbit to enter our home and the youngest one yet. After having 3 rabbits indifferent to human contact, we were determined that things would be different with her. She was going to learn how to be a “lap bunny.”
A lap bunny is a rabbit who calmly sits on you lap and lets you pet her or just sits serenely. It’s really all we’ve ever wanted from our rabbits. None of them have done very good in the serene department.
Therefore, Baxter has been held on a regular basis and brought up on the couch. We sort of pinne her down a little and pet her before she scampered off. After a few weeks of this, bunny magic happened. She actually sat with Julie.
And then she became insanely attached to me. I could not walk in the house without her scuttling about my feet. It feels like cowboys and indians as she runs around my feet, zig zagging in between my feet. I sometimes have to shuffle around the house.
All of this has been well and good. In fact, I thought we had a major breakthrough yesterday, as I laid down for a little nap and she laid right next to me for a long time letting me pat her head.
And then there was today.
After spending a good bit of my afternoon writing, I just wanted to sit and read the latest Rick Atkinson book. Baxter would not permit this. She hopped onto the couch, nipped at my knee, and climbed all over me. I could briefly pacify her with a little petting, but for the most part she wanted to either chew on me and climb on me. The couch also sustained some damage.
I can only hope this is a passing phase.
You know who these people are. They’re the ones you sort of know, as in their name and a few details of their miserable lives. They see you coming and use that same line every time to strike up a conversation.
And the conversation is pointless, meandering, and happens to be all about them. There is nothing you can do for these people, so why bother listening. You have much better things to do. Escape, all you can think about is your escape. And so you learn to avoid them, look down at the right moment, or pick up your pace to avoid being trapped.
I do this sometimes. And then I think about Jesus and Paul. Paul talks about God using the foolish things of this world to shame the wise, but I don’t think that applies to this situation because these people are just dull and annoying, somewhere in between the wise and foolish which leaves me in the clear. OK, so maybe not, but that’s how I think about it.
But what can I do for these people? I really don’t want to be a friend. Really. I want boundaries. I want distance. I want to do my own thing and to be left alone.
Driving home today I had the thought: I’m a follower of Jesus, and so I don’t have the luxury of boundaries. I didn’t realize that when I prayed the “salvation” prayer. Yet another example of the bait and switch tactics of our contemporary gospel presentations that leave that whole bit about God’s Kingdom out.
Agh. So I need to rethink my policy toward certain people. I asked God where I can start, and I immediately thought of Anne Lamott’s rule for life, “Don’t be an asshole.” Well, OK, I can handle that because I’m not an asshole …
Oh right, everything I just confessed seems to say otherwise.
I suppose one place I need to begin is just slowing down, stopping to let these people catch up and say their bit. I could actually listen. I could pray for the right words to say back to them. That’s a start.
Of course I have a writing deadline tomorrow, so being nice is out. How’s Wednesday?
I’ve made the same mistake at least twice now. The first time I was renovating our rental home in exchange for cheaper rent. The second time I was working on a draft of my theology book this past August. Linking these two projects is my crushing drive, tenacious, nay reckless attack of each seeking to complete them in a brief period of time.
Friends and family marveled at my discipline and dogged determination to wrap both up ahead of schedule. Nevertheless, in both situations I nearly fell apart down the home stretch. During the renovations I remember spackling about one hundred nail pop holes in the guest room/office and just wanting to run away.
While working on the draft of my book I hit the wall on the last chapter and could not will the words onto the page. I reread that chapter last night and marveled that instead of slowing down with a neat concluding paragraph I run the reader into a closing sentence at full speed.
Such happens when discipline takes on a life of its own.
Rabbits are cute little creatures. We love all three of our rabbits. Each has a wonderful quirk, an endearing superpower if you will. Baxter follows me around like a dog and will gladly sit in our laps to be pet. Eva loves to be pet and will sit for hours provided you leave her on the floor. Evan will lick your fingers if you can stand it.
And after they’ve done all of these cute things for you, one rabbit decides, “I’m sick of my toys, I’m going to chew on the coffee table.” We hear scraping in the general direction of the coffee table, snap our fingers and yell, “No!” but the process of destruction has begun.
Once ONE rabbit has decided something is interesting, you can rest assured that every rabbit will agree. Each rabbit leaves a scent, and so the next rabbit in the room must carefully inspect EVERYTHING, re-scenting each defiled object. While in the midst of the re-scenting program, they have this amazing ability to recognize the genius of the other rabbit. “Hey, this table really is a great chew toy!”
Repeat gnawing, snapping, yelling, and sometimes chasing sequence. This goes on and on. Sometimes it takes a month or two for rabbits to leave a piece of furniture alone. In the case of our nibbled coffee table, months have passed and even this evening Eva took a chunk out of it.
The most galling destruction was accomplished by none other than our adorable Baxter, the female bunny that we originally thought was a male. I was just about to tell Julie how good she’s been, when that jerk ripped a piece of sheet rock from a corner. This top layer of the sheet rock had the beautiful green paint that I so carefully applied last May. Now a huge gash remains in the wall.
The next rabbit out after Baxter was Eva. It took her a while, but soon she contributed to the growing bare spot on the wall. At this point I’m not sure if I should repaint it or let them run their course before touching it up.
Rabbits are jerks.
I’m ashamed to say that I have yet to notice that you can see the sunrise perfectly from our back porch. I don’t know why I haven’t ever taken a look since I’m usually awake when it’s still dark. In any case, I peeked out this morning since everything in the yard had a brilliant pink hue to it. I soon found out why.
If you want to see why many people are turned off by Christianity, why Christians are leaving the church, and why Christians are increasingly irrelevant, see the documentary Jesus Camp. This film tells the story of a children’s pastor named Becky and several children who attend her summer camp for Christian families and children.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of the film is the extreme guilt and pressure applied to these children. Julie and I were wondering if this children’s pastor actually likes children at all because all she did was talk about how serious they had to take God and how much the fate of our nation rested on them. It seemed that just about every five minutes she had the kids weeping and raising their hands.
Instead of preaching the love of God and the new life that comes through the Gospel, the pastor described the children as culture warriors who had to win America back to God. There is no room for phonies or compromise, there is no room for failure because our nation is depending on these children, most of whom aren’t older than 12 or 13.
Does that strike anyone else as completely messed up?
I’m all for intercession in prayer for more of God in America, and I’m all for teaching children to follow Jesus, but the heavy-handed, guilt-ridden gospel that pits these children against the secular tide is too much. There were absolutely painful moments as one poor little girl, bearing the guilt and demands of those around her, swallowed her fears and walked right up to strangers to share little Gospel tracts. Keep in mind that I have no problem with kids sharing what God has done for them, but her reasons were no doubt tainted by the pressure of adults.
I could go on. There’s the home school curriculum for Christian children that not only attempts to disprove evolution, but also teaches that global warming is a myth of the political left!!! I don’t know when disputing climate change ended up being a religious issue, but it is. I kept thinking, Christians are just eating out of the hands of Republicans.
Back in August Julie and I heard an interview of Eugene Hutz, the front man for the gypsy punk band, Gogol Bordello. The story of his life, growing up in the Ukraine, moving to Burlington, VT, and then starting his band in NYC, is fascinating, especially the part about his father’s tendency to hog the spotlight to the extent that Eugene didn’t know he was a talented singer until his high school years.
During the interview they mentioned that Hutz also has a major role in an independent film with Elijah Wood (Frodo that is) called Everything is Illuminated. Of course we had to see it.
This is a movie dealing with weighty, difficult issues that are significantly lightened by the cross-cultural blunders of Wood, an American Jew looking for his family roots in the Ukraine and Hutz, his translator who always picks the wrong words. For example, Hutz’s character asks Wood if he was “proximal” with his grandmother, or describes himself as carnal with the ladies. The search for Wood’s family is described as “rigid.” The dialogue is just right enough to be understood, but just wrong enough to be awkward.
Picking up on the road trip theme, Wood travels with Hutz, Hutz’s grandfather, and the grandfather’s “most officious seeing-eye bitch” dog named “Sammy Davis Jr. Jr.” And the best part? Hutz’s grandfather is the driver. Tension erupts during the journey when Wood alerts his guides that he does not eat meat. Hutz asks, “How about steak? Chicken? Not even sausage?” It’s just as wacky throughout the whole movie.
In the background of this blundering road trip is the heart-breaking tale of Wood’s family who escaped their primarily Jewish village that was devastated by the Nazis during World War II. It’s a story about cherishing one’s past, learning where we come from, and small relics of history that we exist to find.