The Schumerth Shuffle

Trouble in Paradise: Does Peyton Manning Really Want to Stay in Indianapolis?

2012-01-27T09:36:00.000-08:00

The Peyton Manning saga continues. Last August, I sat through a Colts' training camp practice at Anderson University. It was a sweaty day, and Manning wasn't practicing, so I left early, disappointed. Admittedly, I'm a Bears' fan first, despite the fact that I live in Indianapolis, but as a sports fan, even I would have relished such an opportunity to see one of the best quarterbacks in the history of the NFL (a career completion percentage of 65% for almost 55,000 yards, 399 touchdown passes, and 198 interceptions, all with the Colts) from that close. The organization didn't seem to be saying much about Manning, and he'd had a recent surgery, but still, I expected him to be ready and starting for the season opener.

But the Colts' dropped a bomb in September by announcing that Manning would be out for the season after his third neck surgery. They signed Kerry Collins to replace him, and we all know how well (read: terrible) that went. The Colts' slid in impressive fashion from division favorite to a disastrous 2-14 record, using three inept quarterbacks along the way. The slide coincided with the same season for which the Super Bowl was (is) to be located in Indianapolis, with the AFC spot painfully being filled by the hated Patriots.

All the while, speculations about and by Manning continued. Rumors circulated that Manning wanted to play before the season ended, although he never did. With "Suck for Luck" bumper stickers thriving throughout the city, Peyton's father, Archie Manning, went on record to say he didn't think Manning and Luck could exist on the same roster. Shortly after, he retracted his statement.

Meanwhile, the Colts' season ended without earning a playoff invitation for the first time since the 2001 season. Owner Jim Irsay said goodbye to general manager Bill Polian and head coach Jim Caldwell. Actor Rob Lowe caused quite the stir by tweeting that Peyton Manning was going to retire, although his sources now seem to have been misguided.

All this led to the latest part of the drama: Manning's candid comments about the Colts this week, which Irsay apparently didn't appreciate. Peyton did say, "It's well-documented that I want to play in the same place my whole career." But he also said things like "I'm not in a very good place for healing, let's say that. It's not a real good environment down there right now, to say the least. Everybody's walking around on eggshells. I don't recognize our building right now. There's such complete and total change."

My response after reading some of the interview--even before Irsay responded--was that's really weird. Why is he saying this stuff publicly? It almost sounds like he's shopping himself. Making himself available, indirectly, for any teams that might be interested. Readying himself for any change that might be coming. And how healthy is he anyway?

Will the Colts trade Manning? Does he want to be traded? We'll certainly find out soon, but if the organization was smart, they'd think back to a model Green Bay (accidentally?) used not too long ago with Brett Farve and Aaron Rogers. Go ahead draft Luck (or even RG3 from Baylor), but if Manning's healthy, the job is his, at least for another couple years or so. Peyton mentors the youngster, until he retires--with tears in his and all his fans' eyes--and the Colts already have their next franchise leader.

Then, maybe someday Peyton gets named the head coach in the same organization for which he quarterbacked. A pipe dream? Maybe. Oh, if only egos weren't involved...

The Power of the Authenticating Detail

2012-01-25T11:33:00.000-08:00

In the late John Gardner's The Art of Fiction, he gives us advice that can either liberate or exasperate the writer. "The search for aesthetic absolutes is a misapplication of the writer's energy," he tells us. Instead--and this is much more difficult--"all legitimate questions raised in the reader's mind must be answered, however subtly, inside the work." How's that for a task? To get there, there are "no rules" but lots of techniques, he says. And the writer "must read widely and deeply and must write not just carefully but continually."

In class, we used the language of "authenticating detail" as one the key skills and judgements a writer must possess. What is sitting on the protagonist's desk? What is hanging on the wall? How does he or she respond to a broken relationship or to a death? What is in his or her past? What is his or her mother like? How does he or she act when in anger?

It would be an interesting lens with which to read. In class, we discussed Joyce Carol Oates short story, "ID," by asking why she uses the details she does. It becomes so obvious that there is "method to the madness." I can imagine that if I reread some of my own favorite books--Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow, J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, Jonathan Franzen's Freedom, Wallace Stegner's Angle of Repose, or Philip Roth's American Pastoral--in the light of "authenticating details" that I would have a similar experience. The details effective writers choose are not accidents.

As writers, these details must be purposeful, that is to say they must work for us, they must be believable, and they should anticipate and answer the reader's questions. Sometimes, often probably, that means subjecting our work in the hands of good critics, objective ones and not just our mothers and best friends who will undoubtedly praise us for everything we do.

It is not work for the faint of heart, apparently. In my arrogance, I had no idea there was so much to learn about the writing craft, but I am enjoying this season of soaking it all up and soliciting lots of criticism for my own work. As Gardner warns us, writing is more than self-expression.

Low-Income Education and Renaissance Reading with Mike Rumbaugh: An Interview

2012-01-23T10:29:00.000-08:00

Chris: Mike, we met in Jacksonville as Teach For America corps members. What did you learn during those two years about the teaching profession?

Mike: Yikes. What a first question! For the sake of your readers I will keep it short with just one takeaway from my last four years working in education.

We have to separate teaching in a low-income school from teaching elsewhere. They are different jobs that require different skill sets. Putting a student, who faces all of the disadvantages and institutionalized racism of being a poor minority in this country, on the path towards college is completely different from taking a white, middle-class kid and keeping him or her on the path towards college. Those two jobs are entirely different and should be treated as such. Lumping all educators into one box hurts all teachers, even though it doesn’t hurt all students. Mostly, it hurts students of color who are unlucky enough to be born into disadvantaged communities.

Chris: Do you have a favorite memory from Jacksonville, teaching or otherwise?

Mike: There are too many to count but I will list a few that come to mind:

1) Sunday afternoon football with you, D-Mitch, Weston, Gravier, Phil, Dorrien, Richard, Garrett and the rest of the crew.

2) Beach days with Feezor, Weston, Jameson, Richard, Keyairra and the bunch.

3) The first days of induction. When the 55 of us were still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with literally no clue what we were getting ourselves into. It was a great time to meet everyone, hear everyone’s background and really be thrust into a community we didn’t know very well.

Chris: You've spent the last two years working with and developing new teachers, but last I checked you weren't going to continue on past this year in that line of work. Any idea what's next?

Mike: The daunting "whats next" question (laughs). This is on my mind constantly and probably gives me the most heartache day to day. Although I am trying to just be happy in the moment, instead of planning to be happy in the future, "whats next" ultimately comes up in nearly every conversation I have.

Currently I am trying to get my stuff together to apply to business school for the Fall of 2012. With work and life and getting such a late start it’s really hard at the moment but I am hoping to pull it all together. If not than business school will be the goal for fall of 2013 and in the interim I will move back to Philly and work with TFA there, look for a job outside of education, or even take a year off to ski and enjoy the Rocky Mountains.

Chris: You mention Philly, which I know is where you’re from. What do you miss the most from there?

Mike: The people. The underdog attitude. The chip on the collective city’s shoulder. The vulgarity. The history. The corruption. Cheese steaks and Yuengling. Lorenzos. Temple. Big 5 Basketball. Watching Eagles fans melt down year in and year out, since I was born and raised a Steelers’ fan.

Chris: I know you're a reader. What are you reading these days and why?

Mike: My dad recently described me as a renaissance reader, which I thought was accurate in a way. I’ve usually got several different genres going at one time, so here’s a sample:

Why are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Tatum was assigned for work and I absolutely love it. It’s a must-read for white people or anyone who works in education, especially in low-income communities. Go buy the book right now if you can.

I have to prepare for business school somehow, so I’m also reading Case Studies and Cocktails.

All the Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren is American literature at its finest, weaving two topics together that I love: corrupt politicians and Louisiana.

I’m also enjoying some stunning poetry by Phillip Levine on the life and times of working class citizens in Detroit. The title is What Work Is.

Lastly, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith. What better way to escape then to read a fictional (or is it?!!) tale of how Abraham Lincoln’s main driving force in life was ridding the world (i.e. United States) of vampires to avenge his mother’s death.

Chris: I don’t think we could script a better place to end than that, Mike. Thanks!

Logos as Metanarrative: Implications for John 1

2012-01-19T18:07:00.000-08:00

"There are an enormous number of people--I am one of them--whose native religion, for better or worse, is Christianity. We were born to it; we begin to learn about it before we become conscious. It is, whatever we think of it, an intimate belonging of our being; it informs our consciousness, our language, and our dreams."
~Wendell Berry, "Christianity and the Survival of Creation" (from Sex, Economy, Freedom, & Community: Eight Essays)

"I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen. Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else."
~C.S. Lewis, "Is Theology Poetry?"

The other night, I sat through an extremely confusing rhetoric and composition class, and basically came out of it having learned one thing: that the Greek Word logos--while it's often translated as word (or logic) really goes deeper than those words, potentially to the English word "worldview," or how we see the world. Worldviews are meta-narratives that explain everything else. A lens. A paradigm. The bias of our logic.

I still haven't figured out how that fit into our class's context, but it did force my mind to wander to the Gospel of John, and more specifically to its first book. The author begins with this beautiful, intriguing, and also confusing opening:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcomeit" (that's verses 1-5 from the New International Version, which I don't recommend).

If you haven't figured it out, "Word" was actually the word logos. Now the word (no pun intended) has traditionally been interpreted (or at least in my life's experiences it has) as a symbol for Jesus, for obvious reasons. It is even one of the passages Trinitarians point to as evidence.

And while I don't discount that interpretation, my revelation in class added to it, I think. I don't doubt that the author had Jesus in mind, but what do we do with this logos word being used?

My theory is this: John, whoever he was, was saying something about Jesus as worldview, as explanation. Jesus as being the crux of history who should forever "bias" the way we interpret things. Not in a bad or crazy way; we don't turn our brain off. But we all have a worldview (or several competing ones, in some instances), and what better source of our limited understanding than this man-God, Jesus?

I'm no Biblical scholar, and maybe some of my friends could give us a better exegesis of this passage, but I have to think that John was bringing Jesus together with this word for some pretty intentional reasons.

Renewal in Fountain Square? An Interview with Christie McNabb

2012-01-18T14:04:00.000-08:00

Though my intentions for this interview series were a bit ambiguous, one of the themes emerging from many of them are the struggles and rewards of late twenties types who pursue creative professional paths. Today, I spoke with Christie McNabb, who lives in Indy's Fountain Square. She directs Fletcher Place Arts and Books, which is just down the street from Calvin Fletcher's, where she works as a barista. She also writes a blog called Living is a Process. Here is a glimpse into a conversation we had, surrounded by the work of local artists at her gallery:

Chris: Christie, you've got a neat space here. Can you walk me through some of the vision and process for this place?

Christie: I wasn't the original visionary, so it's hard to describe. I started working as the social media and communication person in 2010 over at the coffee shop, and the guy who runs it mentioned that they were going to launch a church. My initial reaction was, how are you going to do that? He was already working 50-60 hours a week. I told him I'd be willing to help, and he proposed that I direct the gallery, which we wanted to be a safe place to ask questions and explore faith. In addition to being an art gallery, we envisioned a reading room where people could come if they needed a quiet space.

Chris: So what's the relationship between the Fletcher Place Church and the gallery?

Christie: We share the space and the church does fund the gallery. Sometimes we're more like roommates than we are a marriage or even familial. I want it to be a community resource. In the summer, we really started to give the project some legs. We post the work of local artists. We had concerts here recently. A non-profit will be in here next week talking about social justice. I just want people to feel welcome to work here.

Chris: I keep hearing about this First Friday thing in Fountain Square. What involvement does the gallery have with that event?

Christie: The first Friday of every month we open up a new exhibit with the artist's present. It's basically a big party.

Chris: Would you consider yourself an artist?

Christie: I like to play with art, but no, I wouldn't really consider myself an artist.

Chris: Seems like you wear a variety of hats as barista, gallery director, and writer. How do these things connect for you?

Christie: There is some connection in that I use similar giftings in everything I do. I bring communication, leadership, and organizational skills to the table. Sometimes, though, the pieces don't seem to fit, which can be frustrating in terms of finding a rhythm, but also rewarding in that there is variety in my life. The biggest pro is that I get to do things I want to do.

Chris: What sort of things might we find you writing about on your blog?

Christie: I write because I have to. If no one in the world read it, I would still write it. A few friends who do read regularly tell me they find some encouragement from the honest struggles with faith that I express there. I suppose you could say I write little sermonettes. My hope is that people would read my story and find some hope in and for their own.

Chris: Your path is a little bit of an unorthodox one, and I'm sure it has its share of obstacles. Can you walk us through some of those struggles?

Christie: It's really hard to measure success, particularly with the gallery. I'm an end results-oriented person by inclination. I want to know why I'm doing what I'm doing. Of course, finances are a constant source of concern, but I'm not so sure that's any different from people who chose a more mainstream path. I guess maybe I just have to be a little more creative with the income I do make. I pay a lot of attention to it. Some of my friends definitely do not understand my lifestyle, but then again some people I expect not to are really supportive. I'm learning to own my direction. It's hard to have confidence that 'way leads to way,' and to not go back and second guess steps I took in the past. I think even when we don't make the 'right decision,' there is grace.

Chris: What is it that you love so much about Indy and Fountain Square in particular?

Christie: I grew up in the country, about 45 minutes from Indy, actually. But I love urban settings. Even in high school and college, I was really intrigued by some missional interactions that I had in cities. Currently, I feel settled in Fountain Square, probably most of all because I love the community, the neighbors that I bump into here and there. I have a heart for renewal, and I think there's a lot of potential for that here. The arts, especially, can be so life-giving, but they're too often reserved for the privileged, and that's sad. Fountain Square and its surrounding communities need the beauty of art, and I hope the gallery can provide some of that.

A Day After MLK Day: What is Rhetoric?

2012-01-17T13:18:00.000-08:00

"As I have walked among the desperate, rejected, and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they ask -- and rightly so -- what about Vietnam? They ask if our own nation wasn't using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of the hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent. ~Dr. Martin Luther King Junior, "Beyond Vietnam--A Time to Break the Silence"

"I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We must rapidly begin the shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights, are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered." ~Dr. Martin Luther King Junior, "Beyond Vietnam--A Time to Break the Silence"

This semester, I am teaching two classes and taking one in this field of "Rhetoric and Composition." The meaning of the word composition is fairly obvious; rhetoric on the other hand, not so much. I have always associated the word with speech. About a political candidate's speech, we may say: "Ahh, it's just rhetoric." But the speech, I am learning, is only part of the rhetoric, not the whole.

In the class I'm taking as a student, we defined the word, stealing from Aristotle: "the faculty of finding the available means of persuasion." It's a heady definition, but we were told that the Greek word for persuasion was more than just an exercise in intellectual convincing, but rather an attempt to compel us to action. So we can consider one's chosen appearance, a social interaction, a Facebook post, a letter to the editor, a martyr's death, and a commercial different types of rhetorical acts, but what better example could we look at than Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., whose life (and rhetoric) yesterday's holiday celebrates?

So in day III of my teaching this semester, we listened to MLK's speech "Beyond Vietnam--A Time to Break Silence." As you would expect from King, it's beautifully crafted and brilliantly argued; you should check it out if you have a half hour to spare. I used that particular speech because a colleague pointed me to it, and it was my assumption that my students would already be pretty familiar with King's "I have a Dream" speech.

After listening, we evaluated what we heard in light of three Greek concepts: ethos (appeal to credibility), pathos (emotional appeal), and logos (logic). King succeeds in all three areas. For example, he appeals to his own credibility by reminding his church audience that he is "a preacher by calling" and that he won a Nobel Peace Prize. He affects his audience emotionally by reminding them that the Vietnam War "(sends) their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population." He points out the logical flaws of "taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem."

Yes, rhetoric is so much more than speech (or writing). The means of persuasion, indeed. And few were better at it than King.

2012 NFL Playoffs: Jim Harbaugh Cements Coach-of-the-Year Credibility With 49er's Win Over Saints

2012-01-16T08:30:00.000-08:00

I'll never forget sitting in an end zone seat, watching my 2010 Notre Dame team struggling against Stanford with Cardinal coach (and former quarterback for the Chicago Bears and Indianapolis Colts) Jim Harbaugh standing ten yards on the field, screaming instructions to his team and suggestions to the the referees. I was not the only among the crowd to notice this: our part of the stadium erupted in jeers and boos, to which Harbaugh just gestured right back, egging us on. What an asshole this guy is, I thought. But the worst part was that his team pummelled mine in the game, 37-14.

Harbaugh spent four years as the Stanford coach, with his teams going 4-8 in his first season and 12-1 in his final one. His win total increased every year. But when Harbaugh signed on as the head coach of the 49ers in January of 2011, his college success was no guarantee of pro success. Guys like Pete Carrol and Charlie Weis are cases in point that success at one level does not guarantee success at the other. And frankly, the nagging question remained: did Harbaugh make Andrew Luck or did Luck make Harbaugh?

After leading his 49ers to a 13-3 record in his first season and a second round 36-32 win over the New Orleans Saints to boot, suffice it to say: Jim Harbaugh made Andrew Luck. And now he is making Alex Smith, a quarterback who had seen little NFL success before Harbaugh arrived on the scene. In the 2012 regular season, Smith completed 61-percent of his passes, threw 17 touchdown passes and only five interceptions. Compare that to his previous season: 60-percent completion rate, 14 touchdown passes, ten interceptions.

Harbaugh and Smith could not have done it against the Saints in any more exciting fashion. In one of the best playoff games in my memory, Smith threw a 14-yard laser to Vernon Davis, which he caught in between two defenders for the winning touchdown with nine seconds left in the game.

It has been pointed out multiple times that Tim Tebow is the sole and main ingredient that flipped a 1-4 team that hadn't been to the playoffs since the 2005-2006 season into a team that not only clinched a playoff spot but stunned the Pittsburgh Steelers in the first round, 29-23, in overtime. Tebow's role may or may not be overblown, but when the same variables are controlled in San Fransisco, Harbaugh is clearly the difference between a 6-10 team (in 2010) that hadn't been to the playoffs since 2003 and a team that is a game away from the Super Bowl.

There is something exciting about this 49ers turnaround for this guy who grew up idolizing Joe Montana, Steve Young, and Jerry Rice during the early 1990s. With Harbaugh at the helm, it is my guess that the current 49ers are "back," and will be for a while. Best of all, Harbaugh seems long gone from the college ranks, and he won't be torturing the Notre Dame fans again any time soon.

Starting the Process with Shitty First Drafts

2012-01-10T13:23:00.000-08:00

A high school creative writing elective class I took a long time ago offered me at least three long-term gifts. One was to become comfortable with being a male athlete type and also a writer, thanks to the fact that my teacher was also my assistant basketball coach. Secondly, I grew to appreciate poetry, which I had previously thought was stupid. And thirdly was the pleasure of reading Anne Lamott. I first encountered the Lamott's writing by reading Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (which you should all read, writer or not).

In that work and her many others, Lamott can be transcendentally tender, bluntly self-deprecating, witty, or just plain vulgar. She is the epitome of the sinner-saint, which has a real appeal to it, or at least it did to me. One of the chapters that struck me was "Shitty First Drafts." Her vulgarity is, of course, purposeful. That is to say, it engages us more than your average prescriptive writing instruction. Ahhh, I guess I can read this, we think. It's almost refreshing.

But what she's saying is also true. She talks about how she, even as a published writer, has all these voices inside her that discourage her from writing. It's a daily battle, she says. But the only answer is, in her words, "All good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere." We need to get words on the page. The film Finding Forrester suggests a similar idea: "No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think!"

We make a mistake if we think this discredits the value of a first draft. The first draft leads us to a second draft, which births a third. As Lamott says: There may be something in the very last line of the very last paragraph on page six that you just love." Ahh, yes, the writing process. It takes more work this way than slamming the keys until you print the paper that's due tomorrow, but this method can also free us from the discouraging voices.

Two examples come to mind. A friend of mine is applying to law school for the second time. He got in the first time; don't get me wrong. He's a bright man. But not to the school he wants to go to, so he's giving it a second shot. He gave me his essays to look at before he submits him. He told me to "tear them up," but I'm not sure he really meant it. I think he really wanted a pat on the back. But I did give him a lot of feedback. He had a lot of good stuff in his "shitty first draft," but most of it needed to change. Through the painful process, he is making the changes he needs to make. We need that as writers, people on the outside looking in who can identify where our draft doesn't work.

I've been working on a book-length project for more than a year. It's a lot different than cranking out a blog post or quickly reporting the details of a sporting event. Of the 200 or so pages I've written for this thing at some point, maybe five are keepable. But this does not mean it's time to despair! All that process was necessary and good, even the shitty drafts. One of my professors says one of the mistakes young writers make it the allure of the "Get in, get out" book. I can believe it. But it's a cheap way to approach the craft.

It's not too different from life, really. We tend to get things wrong before we get them right. Producing something beautiful takes a lot of reworking, sometimes even starting over. So this is where the classes I teach this semester are starting, with the idea of "shitty first drafts." Today was our first day of classes; we used the time to read and discuss Lamott's chapter. Because we all write and live shitty first drafts; perhaps we even need them. We might as well make peace with them.

Routine: A Blessing and a Curse

2012-01-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

"Idle hands are the devil's playground."
~An English proverb

Like most idealistic college graduates, I came out of school saying things like, "I never want to work the 9 to 5." Monotony wasn't very attractive then, and it (mostly) still isn't now. Although I have worked a few office jobs that probably fit in that category since (and didn't love them).

I still possess and have lived out a lot of wanderlust in the past few years. I think there's a part of that of which I never want to be fully empty. Life is too short to not find some adventure, not to try new things, see you new places, to grow and change with our eyes wide open.

After a year out of the teaching and school world, I just finished up my first extended break since entering back in. I traveled to Ecuador and back, slept in, and watched more football than I should be allowed to watch. And I enjoyed doing so. I realized, though, that my perspective has changed a bit in the past few years. Perhaps this says something about where I am in life.

"I'm glad the holidays are over," one acquaintance said. Surprisingly, I resonated with her. I wanted to get back to routine, to work, to a regular sleep schedule, to sleeping in the same bed at night. I love the house and people I live with, I enjoy my job, and I have thoughts of getting back in better physical shape. And I'm not feeling overwhelmed by any of it. Am I getting old or what?

Maybe. But I don't think it's a bad thing to actually look forward to a semester for a change...

Mending is Better than Spending: With Brandon Mott from datHouse

2012-01-04T11:08:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, an interesting set of circumstances crossed my path with Brandon Mott, a founding member of datHouse, an intentional community in Indianapolis. Brandon met several years prior as Anderson University students, when both of us went on a trip to the Simple Way in Philadelphia, where we met Shane Claiborne, who has certainly influenced both of us in different ways. When Brandon and I reconnected, it just so happened that I was looking for housing at the time and that he had space and the willingness to take on another housemate. So I moved in. Brandon and I recently sat down to talk about some of the things he and his friends are family are doing in Indianapolis's Bates-Hendricks neighborhood.

Chris: Thanks for agreeing to do this, Brandon. Several years ago we participated together on this trip to the Simple Way. Can you tell us a few ways in which that trip still influences you?

Brandon: Sure. The summer after that trip, Derek and I worked together doing remodeling. Outside of work, we were spending some time with homeless people. We began to realize that churchy ministry was losing its life for us. We read Shane's book, The Irresistible Revolution, and we started seeking a more intentional, communal way of doing ministry, which we've been trying ever since.

Chris: What's the significance of your name, datHouse?

Brandon: The letters "d," "a," and "t" represent the Greek words "Doulos," which means servant, "Agape, which means love, and "Tapeinoo," which means humility. Derek (one of Brandon's friends and founding datHouse members) came up with it while studying the Scriptures. We thought it sort of connected the dats for us, if you will.

Chris: What are some of your best memories from the neighborhood in which you all live?

Brandon: I'll give you two. One time, we loaded up the bed of a truck with a bunch of "rescued" Hostess snacks and decided to distribute them to the neighborhood. So we drove around, throwing snacks to people we saw, and shouting "Jubilee!" We even went to the city pool, but a park ranger wasn't very pleased with our antics and told us to get out of there. A second memory that comes to mind involved us and a bunch of kids in the pouring rain. We all just went out into the flooding streets in our shorts and goofed around. We were getting sprayed by cars that drove by, but we didn't even car. I had a broken arm at the time, so I covered my arm with a plastic bag before I went outside.

Chris: I heard someone recently refer to you guys as the closest resemblance to the early church in Acts that they have seen. Is that sort of the vision?

Brandon: I would disagree that we're really all that close, but it's certainly a great compliment. Our goal is to be like Jesus, and perhaps the early Church is the best example we have of people who tried it out.

Chris: On a wall in your house, you have little sayings written down that mean something to you. One that caught my eye was "Mending is better than spending." After living with you guys for a couple months, I can definitely see you guys trying to live that out. Can you tell me why that's so important to you?

Brandon: It's something I pulled from Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Except in the book, the saying was much different. We want to go against the world on this. We want to turn trash into treasure. So we model houses with hands and tools, and we rescue food from dumpsters.

Chris: Tell me a little more about the remodeling projects.

Brandon: We want to purchase cheap neighborhood houses, fix them up into livable conditions, and them give neighbors who may not otherwise ever have the opportunity to buy a house live in them on a rent-to-buy basis.

Chris: Thanks a bunch, Brandon. Keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing how datHouse moves forward in the future.

Traveling to Ecuador and Wrestling with Privilege

2012-01-01T15:38:00.000-08:00

The same idealistic spirit that led my mother to a Native American reservation post-college, my father hitchiking around the country to, in his words, "preach the Gospel," and me to join Teach For America, compelled my middle sister, Angela, to move to Ecuador for 27 months as a part of the Peace Corps.

For Christmas this year, my family (minus my older brother who didn't want to pay for the $900 flight, plus three of my younger brother's college friends who did) decided to join Angela in Ecuador to take part in both her painful and joyful revelations of living in a Third World country (a condescending phrase, if you ask me), or, if you prefer, a developing nation (equally condescending with the added bonus of being politically correct and, at times, also innacurate).

We started the trip in style. At the Indianapolis Airport with my younger brother and his girlfriend, I received a phone call from my youngest sister, Mandy, who (according to the "plan") was set to fly from Chicago with my parents. "Bad news," she started. "Dad brought an outdated passport. He's going to go back home and grab the right one. He'll try to fly standby tomorrow by himself."

Oops.

Several images from the trip stayed with me, but probably the one that comes first to mind was from a bus trip we took out to the beach on our second day while waiting for my dad to arrive. The terrain in Ecuador was unbeatable, but it was juxtoposed, predictably, alongside the Ecuadorian poverty: skinny cats and dogs, farm animals on the side of the road, exposed shacks at the top of hills, and layers of garbage at the bottom of those hills.

I made a conscious effort to look at those piles of garbage because my instinct in the midst of such discomfort is to look away. I think the other common responses, at least by Americans, is to either criticize the morals of such a culture ("Don't they care about the environment?!") or to make all kinds of vows about preventing trash build-up at the bottoms of hills for the rest of our lives. Hence, the (misguided?) idealism that brings us to such places.

Don't misunderstand me: it's great to pick up trash or teach students of another race or to displace yourself on a Native American reservation. But I think we can go into those situations with such a missionary mindset that it actually prevents us from being moved and changed within those situations. Rather than really see the wounds, we plan to fix the problem as soon as possible, perhaps to ease our own guilt. Instead we gain the experience, leave, and then go back and tell people "how happy they all are in spite of their poverty."

It's all complex and tragic; there's no question about it. My sister told us about a man she walks by regularly on the way to work. Handless, he sits on the sidewalk, hoping people will give him enough bread to eat that day. I can't really imagine such an existence, but I wonder if what prevents us from really seeing into that man's pain is the fear that if we were not so protected by privilege, we might be just as fragile as he is. Perhaps we all possess both as much beauty as the Andes Mountains and as much ugliness as that trash collecting at the bottom of the hill. And we wonder, can anyone really see all that and love us fully in spite of that paradox? To live there is to be human.

Privilege as I think about it is the opposite of "rights," or those things we deserve simply by being delivered from a mother's womb. Over the course of the week, we noticed that several things we may accept as a "right" are actually "privileges": shower curtains, reliable drinking water, flushing toilet paper down a toilet.

Our trip finished with as much excitement as it started with. The day before our flight, we took two vans back to Guayaquil, which is where we flew in and out of. Angela warned us that it was a notoriusly dangerous city. Our drivers took us to the wrong location, almost certainly to try and solicit more money out of us. We arrived at dark, so my sisters, who (bless their hearts) translated for the nine of us all week, went about their negotiation tactics: Angela with the cultural flattery, Mandy more direct and demanding.

"How much to take us to the hostel?" she asked, in Spanish.

"Not much," they told her.

"How much?!" a little more aggravated this time.

"Just a little," they responded.

By then, all the males were catching the negative tone of the conversation and began exiting our vehicles to provide moral support. After the person in charge at the new location came out and Mandy demanded to call the company, they finally agreed to take us to the right location, although we were all suspicious when two additional men climbed into our van with us.

By the grace of God, they took us to the hostel at which we planned to stay. As soon as we stepped out of the vans, we were immediately mauled by children grasping at our pockets, though thankfully we'd been prepared for this. After settling into our rooms, it was almost midnight, but we were quite hungry, so we went out looking for food anyway. Our stroll was largely unsuccessful, but we finally settled for an American fastfood that was still open. The under-thirties crowd spent the a late night laughing and talking on our hostel roof, until we were suprised to hear a gunshot a few blocks away, with sirens immediately following.

I'm really glad I went, but I, for one, was ready to leave when our flight took off the next day. Travel has its value in my view, but George Clooney's character in the 2009 film Up in the Air could not have been more mistaken when he claimed that "Moving is living." Perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson was closer when he said that "Travel is a fool's paradise." Or maybe J.R.R. Tolkien who wrote that "Not all who wander are lost." Regardless, traveling with as big a group as ours was is emotionally taxing, and I was glad to return home to Indianapolis, despite the significant temperature decrease.

Oh, and my dad did make it to Ecuador with the right passport, a day late, and all by himself.

In Between the Sinner's Prayer Gospel and the Gospel of Guilt

2011-12-20T08:12:00.000-08:00

In Christian circles, the term "gospel" is often thrown around as if it has some sort of self-evident meaning. It doesn't, and as far as I know the term isn't found in the Bible much. The literal meaning is "the good news," which most of us can figure is at least a complex pursuit. If I weren't a Christian and I read the Bible objectively, about the last conclusion in the world that I would draw is that the Bible was free of contradictions. Even if we read the Bible as an anthology that spans several genres of literature over thousands of years instead of a "how-to" manual, we at least must acknowledge that the book possesses tons of tension.

But for the dozens of churches I have attended throughout my life and the hundreds of denominations that exist, I'm beginning to notice one big divide. I'll have to generalize here (which means yes, there will be exceptions to my observations), but I'd be surprised if your experience does not fit somewhere my analysis.

The first category of church I will discuss is the type I grew up in. The gospel for these churches seems to indicate that if you say a "sinner's prayer" at some point in your life that you will be "saved" from this world and Hell and get to escape to Heaven someday when God "raptures" all the Christians. If you've read the Bible and you're wondering where that came from, that's because the idea really isn't in there much. Because of these next-life values, this gospel places more value on the work of missionaries and evangelists than it does on the work of writing and waitressing.

This sinner's prayer gospel tends to vote Republican, and most members aren't fans of Mormons, Muslims, Catholics, intellectuals, or gays. They're amazingly complicit in America's wars. They love to quote fire-and-brimstone passages, while explaining away the beatitudes and Matthew 25. It becomes a big in-out game in which someone's after-life status is a constant source of concern. I have a friend who lost a clergy job because (among other reasons) he admitted he still sins and always will.

This group reads "Christian" books, listens to "Christian" music, and watches "Christian" movies. In the more extreme fringes of this sinner's prayer Gospel are those think that not only are you "saved" into Heaven, but that when you become a Christian, you will be blessed with material prosperity if you just believe hard enough live righteously.

Lest this post turn into a bashing session of that gospel alone, allow me to get to the other gospel. Admittedly, this other gospel is the one I have leaned toward during my adult years, but it is just as problematic. This is a different sub-set of churches whose gospel seems to mean something much different. You will hear vague statements like, "The most important thing is to love." They quote verses about not judging a lot and seem to embrace an "anything goes" sort of sexuality.

But nonetheless, these hippies, hipsters, and suburban leftists do judge; they just judge in different areas. While living among such a group, my sister once said, "I felt judged if I drank a can of pop." Yes, those are the actions for which this group judges. Are you eating the right food? Are you reading the right books? Are you watching the trendy television show, listening to the latest Indy music? Do you drink local beer?

For this group, your work is of higher value if you are a social worker with the mentally ill than if you represent your region in the state government.

This second gospel trumpets diversity, but they are not very diverse themselves. They criticize technology and consumerism, but many of them carry iPhones and iPads.

They love to reference the passage in the New Testament where Jesus tells the rich man to give away his possessions and give them to the poor. Meanwhile, they ignore or explain away the fact that God blessed Job, Joseph, and Daniel with great wealth and power. The same tension is there with war. They love "Blessed are the peacemakers" but explain away "I come not to bring peace, but a sword."

While both sides embrace their own neat little boxes and categories for God, neither side seems all that comfortable with God as sovereign. That seems too risky, too uncertain, too mysterious. Meanwhile, these two groups often stand on opposite sides of an ideological fence and shout at each other, telling each other how wrong they are, and proof-texting their verses of choice. It can be a pretty ugly picture for a bunch of people who claim to follow the same Christ.

Is there any hope for unity, reconciliation, or more congruence? What is the actual (true?) gospel? About the only answer I have is, Lord, have mercy...

Writing About Place: An Interview with Robert Rebein

2011-12-19T08:28:00.000-08:00

Robert Rebein is a writer and professor at IUPUI, which is also where I'm currently doing much of my own studying, writing, and teaching during this season of life. Rebein, who has published short stories, essays, and literary criticism, is currently working on a collection of essays called Dragging Wyatt Earp: Essays on Place and Identity. He has given me permission to share some of a recent conversation we had in his office.

Chris: Much of your own writing and thnking deals with place. What do you miss about Dodge City, Kansas?

Robert: My writing does come out of this idea because I grew up in a place with large consequences for staying. Not making a decision usually meant staying. Everyone knew there is nothing for you there unless you decided to make it work in farming, or as a rancher, or as a lawyer. For me, leaving that place has made me appreciate it more and want to go back. So I "go back" by writing about it. I'm not sure if I will live there again or not, but I could. Being away makes you see it more clearly than people that never left. I go back and run into these people who stayed and they want to apologize for not leaving. They want to know why I'd come back. Except maybe the ranchers and other landowners. They don't apologize because they're really connected to the place and have developed a pretty good status. I think in order to write about place, you have to be from one of these really fascinating places or you have to go find these places, like a travel writer might.

Chris: Indianapolis is such a sprawling city. Can you develop the same sort of attachment here as you can in Dodge City, Kansas?

Robert: I think you can, but there's this same insider-outsider factor at work. I live in a German/Irish Catholic enclave on the East side. My kids go to school with others who have parents and grandparents who went to this same school. They have no outside perspective because they never left. A perfect example is this writer Patricia Hampl. She's from Minneapolis and grew up in a Catholic neighborhood. But she got out of there so the place could exist inside her. All this stuff stays in her mind now. In order to write about a place, you have to be able to see and document what's interesting both to people who live there and people who don't.

Chris: Christmas break has basically arrived. What will you be reading?

Robert: Well, I've been going through these Best American Essay collections from 2006-2010. I'm interested in who's good at this genre and why. Some of them are great, but what I'm finding is that it totally depends on the editor. Sometimes I feel like I can write better stuff than the editor picks. Like this 2010 collection, which Christopher Hitchens, who just died, edited. It seems like he just took a bunch out of the same publication. But I love the one Adam Gophnick did, so it seems to really depend on the editor. So when I find something I really like, I say to myself, I'm going to try to do something like that. It always ends up very different than the piece that inspired me, but it's a fun exercise.

Pro Blak on His Rap, Chicago, Private School, and The Bears' Downfall

2011-12-17T12:40:00.000-08:00

The next person who has graced me by participating in this interview series is a former high school classmate and budding rapper, Don Mayor, who goes by Pro Blak. Enjoy!

Chris: Don, thanks for agreeing to talk to me. We went to high school together, at the Culver Academies. Believe it or not, I've still got your demo from back in the day. Glad to see you're still making a go of it in rap. Can you give me an outline of some of the highlights since that demo? Some of the challenges?

Don: Congrats on holding on to that keepsake. That in and of itself made my day. My career since then has been doing things a little outside of the box. I have performed from everywhere from schools, community centers, churches, mosques, and clubs. I try to be as versatile as possible in my approach and touch as many people with my music as I can. Some of the obstacles are just not conforming to the times, or being what other people want you to be. Sometimes it may be more monetarily advantageous, but not where you want your career to go.

Chris: You go by the stage name of Pro Blak. Can you talk a little bit about what that means?

Don: Pro Blak stands for People Resisting Oppression Blacks and Latins Acquiring Knowledge. It’s about unity, uplifting our communities, and making the best out of your situation. It’s about me being aware of my surroundings, that although I was able to go to a boarding school and a private university my family was still living in the projects. So I got to see what the effects of poverty, gangs, drugs, and the prison system have on a community. It is about recognizing that it’s not just race in America, it is class warfare going on as well. It’s evident everyday in our society with occupy wallstreet, corporate bailouts, layoffs. It is aboutThe haves vs The have-nots. I think everybody got a little bit of Pro Blak in them.

Chris: I almost want to apologize for bringing this up, but I can't help but recall the scene in Eight Mile when Eminem's character disses the guy for going to Cranbrook, a private school in Detroit. You're a private school guy yourself. Is there any of that sentiment in your business or is that just a Hollywood perception?

Don: No need to apologize. I think that the key to success is just being yourself. I think if someone doesn’t want to work with someone because they deem me to be overly educated is that person’s problem not mine. I think the scene in 8 mile that worked against Clearance (character in Eight Mile) was that he ran away for who he was and tried to be something he wasn’t. I’m pretty transparent in my music so my listeners are aware of my past.

Chris: Can you talk about maybe one or two songs you've created that mean a lot to you?

Don: It’s hard to just name two, Chris, but I guess I would have to say My song Chill (chi-ill), an ode to Chicago, is one, and the other is called So I Rise which is inspired by the Maya Angelou poem Still I Rise. That was one of the first songs I made where people said I was really on to something with my Music Career.

Chris: As a writer, I can really appreciate the amount of work it takes to create something meaningful. Who and what inspires your lyrics?

Don: I guess I would have to just say life experiences in general: happiness, sadness, triumphs, failures, problems, and solutions.

Chris: Do you have to keep a day job or are you making money by rapping yet? What would you tell a younger guy who wants to rap?

Don: As an independent artist I make the bulk of my money off of live shows and Itunes sales. I would tell any artist to have a backup plan because the odds of you living off of your art alone overnight is slim and just be dedicated to your craft and yourself and you should be fine.

Chris: You being from Chicago and me from Northern Indiana, one of the things we share is our sports' allegiances. Are you a White Sox fan or a Cubs' fan?

Don: I hate when people make me choose, but when push comes to shove I am a Cubs fan. Team Theo all the way!

Chris: We have that in common, by the way. Cheering for both the White Sox and the Cubs, leaning toward the Cubs. Any hope left in the Bears this season? What expectations do you have for the Bulls in the abbreviated season ahead of them?

Don: The Bears? First off I want to say Marion Barber makes me want to cut my dreads. I am usually an eternal optimist, but you can stick a fork in the beloved. I haven’t seen a season fall apart this bad since I’ve been watching sports. They need Cutler back because the combination of Caleb Hanie, Mike Martz, and that receiving core is a disaster. The Bulls? The Bulls have depth, length, a new consistent scoring 2-guard, a great coach, and the reigning MVP Derrick Rose! I’m expecting great things from them this year and look forward to tuning in every other day with this abbreviated schedule.

Chris: Anything else you want to say?

Don: Sure do. For more Pro Blak check out my Facebook page or Youtube channel. This is only the beginning. God Bless!

Chris: Thanks again, man, and good luck!

Travel, Loneliness, Place, Biodiversity, and the Peace Corps: An Interview with My Sister, Angela

2011-12-15T10:59:00.000-08:00

It doesn't take a Feminist to see that my series of interviews is desperate for some female voices. I'm going to keep looking for them, but I knew I could count on my sister, Angela, for some good stuff. She has spent the last year-and-a-half in Ecuador. Here is our interview.

Chris: You've spent the last year and a half in Ecuador as a part of the Peace Corps. What drew you to the Peace Corps and how has the experience aligned with your expectations?

Angela: As a child and teenager I heard several adults who I respected talk about their Peace Corps experiences and how much it formed the person they became and what they believed. In an abstract way I wanted this type of experience, although it was also largely for the selfish desire to travel far away from the small town where I grew up and have some adventures. Then as I was nearing the end of high school, and even more so, throughout college, I became much more aware of the things going on in the world around me. In college I became somewhat active in raising small-scale awareness of huge social justice issues through my college social work club and in volunteering at a refugee resettlement agency in Erie, PA. The main issues focused on were Darfur and Burma (Myanmar), but it became increasingly clear to me that there were injustices occurring all over the world, of which most Americans seemed ignorant. At this point I was trying to figure out what was next and thought the Peace Corps would be a great stepping stone to get into the world of international development. I was drawn to the fact that it had a training program and that I would spend two year in one place, which would give me plenty of time to become proficient in at least one other language.

I have to say in just about every way my experience has not been the equivalent to my expectations. This is not to say that everything has been bad and that the Peace Corps has completely failed me. So much of one’s Peace Corps experience is dependent on a country and specific site placement within that country. I have to say I was completely disappointed by the level of training I received, although I realize now this is largely due to the fact that Ecuador is a high-risk PC country relating to safety and security issues. Many of the Early Terminations (ETs) are due to robberies or other incidents. This means that we are repeatedly forced to listen to security talks pounding prevention tactics into our brains. Obviously this is important and has been helpful throughout my experience, yet it often left us feeling that our training staff was not committing sufficient time to language classes or specific skill training relating to our individual work assignments. This may not have been that important to some, but for me, it was one of the main reasons I chose the PC over other programs that send volunteers abroad for service. Also, I was sent to Ecuador as a Youth & Families “Special Needs” volunteer, of which I had next to no experience. I made the poor assumption that much of my training would be dedicated to this area. I was wrong. During our two-month training, we spent one morning visiting a special needs school, had one talk on macro themes relating to Special Needs (humans rights, national policies, etc), and a week-long tech trip supposedly focused on giving “charlas” or educational talks on values like self-esteem and goals to children with various handicaps. However, most of this trip ended up being sex education charlas to various populations that had no connection whatsoever to special needs.

Another way in which my experience doesn’t align with my expectations was that I had this romanticized idea of going away to spend two years in a tiny little village where I would know and build relationships with everyone in the town. Then in reality, I was sent to a beautiful city of 200,000. I lived in a town up the side of one mountain and worked up the side of another mountain all the way across the city center. I am not saying this type of set-up does not have advantages: I have plenty of friends my age, the gender roles are not as strict in most cities (it is perfectly appropriate, even if not completely normal, for me to play soccer with a bunch of guys every week), and I have a broader choice when it comes to restaurants, churches, and places to go out at night. Yet, I still feel inklings of jealousy when I go visit my friends out in the beautiful countryside or in small coastal towns where they know every neighbor and spend legitimate time with the people in their neighborhood, even if only for lack of other things to do.

The main expectation that has not lined up with my expectations is my work. Again, I was expecting to work in a rural area (and in a severely underdeveloped country), where the education was pretty low and where my lack of job experience wouldn’t make much of a difference because my college education would provide me more than enough knowledge to start some sustainable projects that the town had never thought of, while building relationships with the youth and women of the town. But I am in a city with 3 separate universities (one of which is public and free to all). While in my experience the education level is not equal to that of an average U.S school, the majority of people I come into contact are high school or college graduates and have as much or more knowledge as I do in life skills and, specifically, in the area of Special Education. Aside from this, I was placed in a special needs school, which is run by a much bigger political organization. This means, of course, that there is plenty of bureaucracy and paperwork that my coworkers and counterpart must deal with on a daily basis, often skewing the decision-making to fit the administration, rather than the students and parents of the school. It also means that my “counterpart” has never had time to work with me to plan projects, but would rather I keep my mouth shut and work as an extra employee of the school. I am definitely not alone in this. Many volunteers in cities seem to be placed in these types of situations and are just treated as free labor. In my specific situation, though, a person from outside the school was the one to send in the volunteer application, so no one in the organization really understood what a volunteer was supposed to do. Their expectations of me do not at all fit what the application asked of a volunteer. Also, the school has had four directors so far in the year and a half I have been here, meaning that my official counterpart is constantly changing and any project planning we have done has been completely erased once a new director steps in.

Chris: What have been the best and worst aspects about the experience?

Angela: This is pretty difficult to answer as I am still inside the experience. But something that I think is both a blessing and curse is how much I have been humbled here (a good thing), to the point of losing my confidence almost completely (a bad thing), in my ability to do good work. This clearly has been a painful process, but has helped me to realize that I need to be intentional about choosing a work environment that is filled with supportive people who are willing to take extra time challenge me and to help me grow. Basically I have learned the lesson that I, as an individual, am not worth that much. Yet in a community with similar goals, I can do a great deal of meaningful work.

Other than this, the worst part has been loneliness. I totally underestimated my reliance on others. It is my third time living abroad, but did not realize how different this experience would be given the much longer time commitment and the fact that previous experiences have been largely centered around diversions. The best part, though, has been my relationships in general, but especially with the kids. When I first visited the school I was so overwhelmed by the difficulties of their daily lives and the suffering of their families, most of whom live in extreme poverty. I was terrified of being put in charge of the kids, as I have spent no significant time around any persons with handicaps (the closest experience being a month-long internship working with adults who have mental illnesses, which is not really the same at all). I know through this experience I have overcome a lot of this fear and come to better understand the strengths and needs of each child as an individual. While I regret not being able to complete the project ideas I had and talked to people about at various point (mostly to work with the families in order to provide job opportunities or more education on nutrition, etc), I am grateful for my time in a classroom with children with whom no one else wants to work. I was put in a classroom with a new teacher and a classroom full of preteen boys with severe mental handicaps and significant behavioral issues. No teacher in the school wanted to be placed with these kids, including the teacher I now work with. Last year I worked largely as a substitute teacher, and on the days when I was thrown into this class, generally with no warning and nothing offered to keep the kids busy, I would spend all day frustrated and sometimes on the verge of tears. This year, working together we have made it a much more enjoyable classroom setting and have seen progress in each child. The advances are small and maybe impossible for anyone from the outside to see, yet each time we witness a child behaving better, trying something new or simply happier, it makes it worth all the frustrations. Each day is still a challenge full of ups and downs, and we still feel as if our students tend to take two steps forward and one back, but in my mind it does redeem my experience here in many ways. Even if I leave no “sustainable” changes behind when I leave, I know I have changed and grown significantly in ways that will make me a better person and help me to be a more effective worker wherever I end up. My little sister (Mandy, also your sister), recently had me read an article written by a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) on how her experience taught her how to fail and how this is important for young Americans to learn, because we are often sheltered from this reality growing up. I would say my experience has been similar in many.

Chris: I have heard that Ecuador is one of the most bio-diverse countries in the world. How much of that diversity have you experienced?

Angela: Yes this is true, and the natural beauty of Ecuador is incredible! I am convinced if it weren’t for all the crime and the lack of organization it would definitely be one of the top, if not the top, tourist country in the world. Sadly, a poor transportation system makes travelling more difficult than I anticipated. The country is split into three main regions (four if you include the Galapagos Islands): the coastal region, the Andes mountain region, and the jungle region. Each of these have very distinct cultures as well, although even within the regions there are many indigenous groups or tribes that continue to keep alive their own languages, traditions, celebrations, and even justice systems (that often seem pretty barbaric to many of us). This is very beautiful at times, yet messy—as with anything—and has caused a lot of problems for both the country’s political system and for foreigners who wander in blind to the cultural realities of where they are.

My own experience has largely been in areas close to my site. I am fortunate to live in a beautiful southern province set in the mountains, but only a short drive from the edge of the jungle and the start of the coastal region (although the actual beach is several hours away). I am also fortunate enough to be less than an hour from the entrance of Podocarpus National Park, which supposedly holds the world record for the most species of trees per hectare. It spans from high altitude cloud forest to lower altitude rain forest. I hiked with some friends to the famous Lagunas del Campadre in the cloud forest. The hike general takes two-three days, although ours took four due to a poorly-followed “shortcut.” I have also done a few shorter hikes as well on the rain forest side, the most common one being out to the waterfall La Poderosa, or The Powerful. On these hikes we definitely saw a wide variety of trees and other plants, which are beautiful and exotic. I am nowhere near a botanist and do not know many of their names or much information on them. The city of Zamora, on the jungle side of the park, is known as a top bird-watching spot. I spent a weekend there in a hostel (made up of a cluster of cabins), which is focused on sustainability issues and helping people enjoy the park and the birds in nondestructive ways. The owner puts out food for the birds every morning, and it is incredible to see how many different species end up there that I have never and possibly will never see again in my life.

I am still hoping to take a trip deeper in the jungle, although much of it is off limits to PC volunteers for various security reasons. The other place I (and everyone else) would love to go is the Galapagos, but it is expensive and unlikely on my PC stipend. I am, however, looking forward to revisiting both sides of the park with the purpose of sharing the experience with my family when they come down next week!

Chris: I know you're a reader. How do you go and the other PC volunteers go about acquiring your reading materials down there and what are you reading right now?

Angela: PC volunteers are probably one of the biggest reading populations I have ever encountered. For that reason books are usually not a problem for me, although being a city volunteer who frequently meets up with others makes this much easier than for some more isolated volunteers. One of the strengths of PC, at least in my experience, is the sense of solidarity among volunteers, many times among people who would never be friends in most circumstances. Volunteers are great about passing along not only books, but magazines, DVDs (cheap pirated copies of recently released movies can be found around every corner), and music. We can also borrow books from the PC office in Quito and most cities have some sort of library (although most libraries generally do not allow checking out) or cafe or hostel that has a book exchange. Book stores themselves do exist in some cities, but are expensive and don’t tend to offer a huge selection of English books.

As I have more free time than probably ever in my life, I have been flying through books. I was given the advice by an older volunteer of keeping a list of the books I read while I am here. I am grateful that I have done this, because it is easy for me to relate what was reading at any given time to particular experiences I was having here. For example, I have read several cheap novels I would probably not normally chose at times when I spent a lot of time suffering physical illness and got stretched for books I actually wanted to read. Recently, though, I have had the luck of some packages from the states and a trip home, meaning I have had some really quality books to read. Recently I finished Barbara Kingsolver’s latest novel, Prodigal Summer (which you gave me). It was the first novel of hers that I have read, and while when I first began reading it I thought it was not my style (it had the feeling of a cheap romantic novel at times), in the end I really enjoyed it and found the way Kingsolver explored the tension between the natural and human world fascinating. The majority of the book focuses on three separate relationships, which make very real the daily difficulties of living off the land without exploiting it. I have spent a considerable time in the past few years trying to work through these difficulties from an academic/intellectual standpoint, yet this often clashes, at least in the short-term, with the needs of impoverished communities. These communities generally have lifetimes of experience trying to live off the land, which can be a source of resentment toward those who go off to learn about the land in classes, then come tell these experienced communities that they need to change all of their methods. The argument could be made that Kingsolver is clearly biased toward the academic side and doesn’t do justice to the communities’ experiences, but it is an interesting read nonetheless. I then started Philip Roth’s American Pastoral (also from you), which is also a first read for me of this author, but I am not far enough in to make any sort of judgment. Another author I have recently discovered is Marilynne Robinson. She seems to have gotten fairly popular in recent years, but I had never heard of her until a friend sent me a copy of her novel Housekeeping. After I finished that one, I stumbled across a copy of Gilead, which quickly moved into my list of top five favorite books. It is set in a rural small town and deals with a wide variety of issues, including the human tensions involved in family, forgiveness, growing old, and war/pacifism, and others, all connected through the threads of faith and theology.

Chris: When you were in the states, you resonated a bit with the Occupy Movement particularly as it relates to student loans. What has your experience in that area been?

Angela: My experience is pretty typical: I was a college student who racked up a bunch of debt due to my own poor decision-making and a naive trust of a school and education system, which is (in my opinion) more focused on making money than on providing a good education at a realistic cost. No country has comparable college costs, and while most American colleges include living costs and many more luxuries, these are generally unnecessary, yet often mandatory. One specific example of this at my school included as full freshman meal plans, which were NEVER used up and couldn’t be used to pay for friends, but still a mandatory part of tuition. Another would be the rule that students must live on campus the first two years (other than commuters that can prove previous residency in Erie), rather than allowing students to find cheaper, off campus housing. And the fact is that the little luxuries provided to students and used to justify tuition increases still don’t add up to the differences. I am not saying that I think my college did anything illegal, with the exception, of a specific administrator in charge of our work study program (who continually cut mine and other students’ work study amounts) who was eventually fired for embezzlement, and who I am sure had to pay back the school (which of course doesn’t really help out the students’ debt problems). Yet a lack of breaking the law doesn’t equal honorable treatment of students or their tuition. No one ever explained to me that the financial aid package I received as a freshman would significantly shrink each year, while school tuition increased. Yes, I should have gone out of my way to ask more questions. But, I was a naive eighteen year old, as are most college freshman. And as to tuition increases, they can give a million reasons why it was necessary each year, but the truth is that most of the over $6,000 that tuition increased while I was a student went toward an unnecessary $14 million new freshman dorm. It was unnecessary because the existing housing at the school was not and never had been completely filled, and it was also irrelevant to me because it was not used until after I graduated. It was also full of unnecessary luxuries, like a gym inside just for the freshmen who would eventually live there. This may help “the future” of the school and eventually help line the pockets of administrators, but it certainly doesn’t help students get a quality education without going deeper into debt.

I realize I could have gone to an Indiana state school that offered in-state tuition. I should have worked harder to get outside scholarships and maybe should have spent more time working instead of pursuing non-scholarship athletic interests. Yet, the financial aid package and tuition I was presented with coming in would have resulted in much less debt than I ended up with after aid decreases and tuition increases, and if I had known what to expect I am sure I would have at least considered these options more. I also could have transferred. But another issue at my school was that they were pretty strict (and in my opinion slightly shady) about not accepting transfer credits. This was an issue that cost many of my friends thousands of dollars and discouraged me from wanting to transfer elsewhere, lest the same occur there. Fortunately, I had an advisor who helped me out in this area while trying to convince the school that they should accept all of my study abroad credits, which of course, they did not want to do. Luckily, this advisor went in with me on several occasions to make sure all my credits were counted and I wouldn’t have to retake pointless classes and waste money taking them. The support I received from her the rest of my academic department was another reason I chose not to leave the school. Unfortunately, not all students had someone going to bat for them.

Chris: Looking forward, what do you anticipate is ahead for you when you return to the States next summer?

Angela: I knew to expect a bunch of difficult and direct questions from you, but this is the most difficult question that I am continually asked by everyone I come into contact with, both here and in the states. The answer is, of course, I am still not sure. The short-term view is a hope to spend lots of time catching up with family and friends. For the long term, I am getting a better grasp on what I do and do not want in life, and I hope to find a job and community that meets at least most of my desires. I am learning that I need to do more research and be more intentional about choosing jobs that more specifically fit my desires and strengths, as well as being in a place close to the people I care about. My ideas about place specifically have shifted in huge ways in the past few years. This mindset change actually started before I left, while reading challenging books by authors such as Wendell Berry and while living and working in a unique community set in rural Appalachia, called Good Works. I am coming to understand that generally most change is affected through long-term commitments to both a place and a community. I am referring to both the changes I can affect and the changes that can be affected inside of me by my relationships with others. Clearly this does not line up well with international development. This goal has been slow to die, as it really was what I saw myself doing long-term. But I am trying to be honest about the person God is molding me into, and I have to admit it no longer seems like a good fit. I am not saying this won’t change at some point in my life, but right now it is not the direction I am looking. In the year I spent at Good Works, I clearly saw the fruits of 30 years of labor in one community. The struggles and poverty were also evident, but there was a hope that I witnessed and experienced there that I have not seen anywhere else in the social service world, and especially not in a Peace Corps-type experience. I am not saying that this would be everyone’s experience, or that this hope is impossible elsewhere, just that I believe this type of community is special and takes years of commitment to build. It is quite possible that I will end up back there, whether next year or somewhere down the road. Regardless of whether I return there, I am searching for a community of faith, possibly in an intentional community environment, which is focused on living out Christ’s love by striving to alleviate human suffering while working to live in more sustainable ways. In a job setting, I want to work for a small organization in which I have a real relationship with my co-workers and boss. I see myself being relatively close to my family and friends, many of whom are getting married and having babies that I care about greatly and with whom I would like to build relationships. I am also leaning toward living in a rural area, where I can have a nice big garden to learn and grow in, as well as plenty of nature nearby to enjoy just for the sake of beauty. I do tend to get easily bored and have gone through many phases. so who knows if this will change. But if this is God’s will for my life, I hope I have the strength to endure this type of commitment for as many years as He wants me to.

Consumerism, Rookie Pastors, and Genesis Church with Josh Tandy: An Interview

2011-12-14T08:26:00.000-08:00

Today, I will be interviewing Josh Tandy: an old friend/colleague, a blogger, and a pastor.

Chris: You and I met while serving as resident assistants in Smith Hall at Anderson University. Can you give us one good R.A. memory?

Josh: Being an R.A. was a very formative experience. My second year was your first year as an R.A. and the staff happened to balance itself equally from new guys to second year "veterans" so we decided to partner up for something I am sure us veteran guys thought would be really profound. We even called them ManDates, I'm sure you see the pun and how a 21-year old thought this was genius.

As I remember it we met for lunch several times and talked about leadership and life in the dorm, but it wasn't nearly as profound as I had anticipated. What did happen was that I learned the value of intentional relationships and the fact that to mentor someone is an experience in humility.

Chris: I believe you work at a place called Genesis Church in Noblesville, Indiana? What makes your church distinctive?

Josh: Genesis is a church plant that is almost 10 years old and trying to figure out how to remain true to our identity as we grow. The first thing people notice is that we meet in a warehouse. It used to be part of a Firestone factory and while it is a church now at first glance from the outside you might still think it is a place where tires are made. The loading dock is now our cafe and as you enter you walk up a ramp that was once used for fork trucks, in fact you can see the scars in the block wall from drivers who took a turn too wide. We try to be a simple church that is only about a few core ideas in terms of what it means to be part of a church and one that isn't about filling a calendar with activities. We don't have membership instead we ask people to prove it by joining in and contributing.

Even though we added a third service we are running out of room but as opposed to relocating and building a bigger building we are starting a second campus in a nearby community. We love our warehouse, but we don't own it and we won't own the building that our second campus meets in. The upside of being flexible and not tied to a huge mortgage is more fitting to our culture. Multi-site is a change in thinking and practice of which there are specifics left to be fully understood in our context, but it allows us to remain close to our culture that seems to connect with our community.

Chris: What do you think is one huge obstacle for the Church right now? What's one thing that's going well?

Josh: The obstacle for our church is leadership development. We don't have enough leaders and a lack of leaders is going to be the glass ceiling for the impact we can have. These are ministry leaders who serve on a Sunday morning, small group leaders that meet in a home at various times, musicians, technicians, and hopefully apprentices that work with all these leaders. People are excited about what is happening and are getting involved.

Consumerism is, in my opinion, the greatest threat to the church in the West and this plays out when people contract out their spiritual growth to other "professionals". We don't have this completely figured out but the only reason that we are able to open another site is first we are being forced to because people are reaching out to friends and family but also because we have great leaders who are willing to commit to something that is inconvenient for the sake of the Gospel.

Chris: You write for a blog called Rookie Pastor. What kinds of topics do you explore there?

Josh: I have a real passion for coming along side young pastors and those new to ministry and leadership in the church. In my own personal story I dealt with a lot of conflict and loneliness in my first few years of ministry and it was really, really hard. As I forced myself to reach out to others for some support I got knowing looks and nodding heads because the basics of my story were so common. However I didn't find anything that really spoke to this.

So the short story is that I created RookiePastor.com but the longer and more accurate story is that I had been blogging for awhile and as I began to refine my focus to this area of young pastors the original owner and blogger of RookiePastor.com decided he was done with the site and he graciously let me take it on.

In addition to the site I hold periodic meet ups with other rookie pastors in the area for lunch. At these lunch events I try to always provide them with a pertinent resource (usually a book or periodical) and bring a more experienced pastor to share with the group. Beyond just a networking event these are 90-minute micro-conferences.
Chris: Will we ever see a book from you? If so, what would it be about?

Josh: I hope so. The plan for 2012 is to have an e-book for rookie pastors, a survival guide of sorts. Be watching for it at RookiePastor.com.

Chris: Thanks Josh, looking forward to it!

Josh: Thanks for having me on.

The White Male Identity

2011-12-12T08:50:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine—who attends graduate school in Boston—recently contacted me about a project she was working on. She was studying the white male identity—an identity she had admittedly struggled to connect with throughout her life. She wanted to hear my own thoughts about the identity that is my own. Had she asked me this question two years ago, I doubt I would have had anything substantive to say about it. But it just so happens that I’ve spent about a year and a half really dwelling on masculinity, and the past semester working on a literature study that focused on the white male, specifically.

I can't say I really grew up thinking about thinking about it. It was my identity in some sense, but it's not the sort of thing you consider yourself as until you encounter some sort of "other." Thankfully, I was forced into that "other" at a pretty young age in a good way. My two best friends going up were black in a very, white, rural town. But even then, I was a kid. I didn't think it unusual and it didn't cause much self-reflection until we went to high school in a more diverse setting and my black friends found other black people to be friends with, so our friendships sort of distanced. It was hurtful, but I can't say I really blame them for their choices.

I remember one time talking with one of them about our town, and I said essentially that I didn't think it was a racist town, that I'd never noticed any racism. One of them said, very tenderly, "Chris that's because you're not black."

So alas, I get to self -reflection about being white by noticing and being around those who aren't. There are other light bulb stories, but those are the first ones that come to mind.

The same is true for gender. I remember someone coming to my high school and presenting what I took as a very male-vilifying presentation about the realities of sexual assaults and such. Basically bringing awareness to the vulnerability, especially sexual, of most females in this world. "This isn't my problem!" I remember saying indignantly at some talk-back session.

Well, it is my problem. I began to see this as I encountered family members, female friends, and women that I have dated who have been taken advantage of sexually. Yes, it is my problem.

But still the defensiveness is there. I'm white, male, heterosexual, and Protestant: the stereotypical oppressor, at least in this country. While I didn't grow up in a family that possessed much wealth or power, I cannot deny (now) that if I wanted those things, they would be easier for me to acquire than so many others. Although it's changing (slowly), so there is also something at stake for me to lose. An advantage, so to speak. Sub-consciously, I don't want to lose it, because that makes me less in control, more vulnerable.

So there are all these movements--Feminism, Queer studies/rights, racial/ethnic civil rights, socioeconomic political movements (Occupy, for example), and so I am in this place where there is an awareness that I have something to lose with all that steam heading in other directions.

So what I argued in my an American literature paper this semester is that the white male has really been isolated in the last, oh, 50 or so years. While all these movements certainly have good things to say and some good things have come out of them, they are also worth critiquing, in my opinion. But the problem is, when one tries to offer some of those critiques, he (or I) immediately gets cast as racist/bigoted/homophobic/sexist. The result is a lot of numbness, a lot of existential confusion, and a lot of shame for white males.

If I could, a quote from C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man:

"And all the time—such is the tragi-comedy of our situation—we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive', or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity'. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful."

This dynamic then leads to a lot of fatherlessness, which is a dangerous thing for any society. (Donald Miller writes about his experiences with this throughout his memoirs, if you're interested.)

I would suggest that we need the white male (we also need the white female, the black male, the Hispanic female, etc.), but that we're losing him in these efforts to regain others.

To counter this in my own life, I've been both fortunate and intentional about seeking out the wisdom and relationships of white men who seem to live well-integrated, purposeful lives. Men who love their families well, men who work at a job they love, men who lead, and men who show their vulnerability. At least three men come to mind as people who have played a sort of mentor role for me and probably a dozen or so others with whom I have intentionally related with and perhaps even a few for whom I have served as a mentor.

While mentors cannot replace an involved father, they are the best answer I have found in filling some of the gaps in our identity.

Changing Over Time: An Interview with Tory Fodder

2011-12-07T16:01:00.000-08:00

Today's interviewee is Tory Fodder. I met him several years ago in a little town called Walters, Oklahoma. I'm tempted to list his accomplishments and interests, but I think it would cheapen him and just encourage you to start pegging him into various boxes. So instead, read his responses, and if you like what you find, check out his blog.

Chris: Tory, we met several years ago in Walters, Oklahoma. You grew up there if I'm not mistaken? What was it like? Will you ever return in a more full-time capacity?

Tory: Yes, I grew up in Walters. As you know, the town is quite small with a population just under 3,000 people. If there is a town in reality that mirrors Andy Griffith's Mayberry, then Walters very much fits the bill. What I remember most about it, and this is reinforced every time I go back - is how loyal the community is to the town. Families that live there tend to stick around, almost to the point where the locale itself becomes an identity for its residents.

My wife and I are actually planning to return to Oklahoma once I've finished my dissertation here at Arizona. Barring an exceptional change of plans, our intent is to return 'home' in May, possibly to Walters, and eventually to start a family. The town really is a great place to set down roots - although I wonder a bit how we'll adjust to living in such a small place.

Chris: You have Native American blood and you also integrate Native American topics into your law studies. What are some of the traditions that will always be a part of you?

Tory: I am, indeed, Native American. Blood quantum is 4/4's, or full-blood, from four different tribes (Taos Pueblo, Comanche, Kiowa, Cherokee). I like to think that if I were at Hogwarts I would be a 'pure-blood' instead of a 'mudblood.'

Growing up, my family was heavily involved in inter-tribal social gatherings called 'pow-wows.' We travelled extensively across the American Southwest during the summer months, often with friends and extended family in tow. My sisters and I all had our particular dance regalia for the various dances we knew. Usually, these gatherings lasted over the course of an entire weekend. This tradition is something I will always remember because it completely shaped my childhood. Some kids did little league during the summer - we went to pow-wows.

Chris: According to your blog, you are a Republican. During these past few years, I've definitely become pretty disillusioned by partisan politics. Can you make the case for a loyal allegiance to a political party?

Tory: I've been a Republican since I first registered to vote. Given the Nation's political history over the same stretch of time (11 yrs or so), disillusionment is something I understand, too.

I won't pretend to have any new insight into selecting a party affiliation, but I think one important thing to keep in mind is that our political system requires compromise. No political party can, or will check every box on one's list of issues. Ideological grandstanding that assumes the contrary really annoys me. Still, my loyalty to the GOP results from a continual reassessment of the issues that are most important to me. I make my list, assess my position, and then see which party aligns with the majority of my views. Uniformly that has been the GOP.

The thing about this approach is that it allows for personal change over time. When I was younger, I penned fiery op-eds in my campus newspaper about gay marriage. Today, I wouldn't approach the issue in the same way - even though the GOP still aligns with the majority of my policy views.

Chris: Who do you like in the 2012 election?

Tory: My personal preference in the race would be former Utah Gov. Jon Huntsman. But of the entire field, including President Obama, I think that former MA Gov. Mitt Romney is the candidate most likely to win in 2012. In the GOP primary, Romney has a political operation that the rest of the field can't match, and equally as important, he has the cash on hand to keep the machine running. During the general election, President Obama has a similarly formidable election team, but his leadership on the economy has been dismal. I just don't see how the President wins with a 9% unemployment rate. And for my money, I don’t think he deserves to.

Chris: You write a blog called Pax Plena. If we were to give it a browse, what are some of the kinds of topics we would find?

Tory: Well, as you can probably tell from some of my replies, Pax Plena covers a lot of political and policy issues. I also make quite a few posts about current events, and things I read that amuse me. I broadly categorize these under "life." You'd also find a fair amount of posts on faith, which typically amount to some of my reflections about God, existence, and grace.

Over the past year, however, I've tried to broaden the scope of the blog by incorporating book reviews into my coverage. I've had good feedback from publishers and authors, so that's something I hope to do more of in the future.

Chris: I do believe you married a hoosier, which confirms to me that you have good taste. How has marriage changed your life?

Tory: I am very much indebted to the Hoosier State. Any place that's home to my wife, Larry Bird, and Leslie Knope, can't be all bad. This will probably sound slightly cliché (nearly all descriptions of marriage are), but being married has utterly reoriented my life's focus.

Decisions that I would have made without much thought, now require me to take my wife, and our future into account. And this thought process applies (ideally) across the spectrum of life, from family visits during the holidays, to job prospects, to our monthly household budget. I'm not perfect at it, but I try to think outside my own self-interest and motivations, which really changed my life's focus from when I was single and in my early 20s.

Chris: Thanks a ton, Tory. Maybe someday we'll rendez-vous in Walters again!

Balance, Academia, and Egypt With Dr. Shrock: An Interview

2011-12-01T10:49:00.000-08:00

I recently caught up with a former history professor of mine. Here is our interview.

Chris: Dr. Shrock, one of the things that has always struck me about you is the degree to which you are accessible to students and alums. How are you able to maintain that accessibility while still getting all your other work done and leading a family of your own?

Dr. Shrock: This balance can be very difficult. We all have to make choices about how we spend our time. Working at a teaching-oriented university provides me with the ability to spend more time with students and alums because the institution rewards me for strong teaching as well as service and publishing. If I was at a publish-or-perish institution, I would be forced to close my door more often to work on my research projects. At the same time, I do it because this is the part of my job that I really enjoy. I like students and I enjoy mentoring. My wife and I have a really good partnership when it comes to our family. We are both professionals and are very busy, but we are careful to make time for our three boys and for each other. It is a process of constant give-and-take as well as late nights. I guess the bottom line is that I value the relationships I have with everyone in my life and I try to make time for them all.

Chris: What research are you working on right now?

Dr. Shrock: Right now I am in the process of getting an article on gun culture, violence, and manliness in early twentieth century boys' fiction published. I have been researching it for a ridiculously long time so something needs to get written. After that I am probably going to write a short article on juvenile book readership in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century for a conference in March.

Chris: What is a good book you've read recently that had nothing to do with your research or classes?

Dr. Shrock: I like Erik Larson, In the Garden of Beasts, which is about an American family in Berlin as Hitler and the Nazis dismantle Germany's democracy. It is a history book, but not really related to my research or classes.

Chris: What advice would you offer to someone who was considering a career in academia?

Dr. Shrock: I would urge them to think very carefully about their choices. Academia can be a fantastic career, but there are real trade- offs that should be considered. It takes a great deal of time--are you prepared to lived in relative poverty until your late 20s to early 30s? Job prospects for many fields in the humanities and social sciences are not that good. Pay rates for professors have fallen relative to the other professions over the last 50 years as well. If you really love your discipline then these are all surmountable issues, but I would urge people to think realistically about what they want out of life.

Chris: One of the classes I took from you as an undergrad dealt with Middle East history. 2011 has been a fascinating year in the Middle East. What are your expectations going forward for countries like Egypt and Libya that experienced regime changes?

Dr. Shrock: This is a very difficult question. Both these countries and Syria are excellent examples of the wave of Middle Eastern peoples upset with authoritarian regimes. The 2006 World Gallup Poll demonstrated that the one element that Middle Eastern people most admired about the U.S. was our free political process. Combine this with the fact that a majority of people in most nations of the region are under the age of 45 and you could get sweeping changes. Egypt has a history of reform and attempts to create democracy that have stymied over and over again by an array of social forces and economic issues. Obviously, Libya's freedom is very important to them, and it is an important marker of the wave of democracy sweeping the region. But, Egypt will be the real test case due to its size, power, and prominence. I must be honest, I thought the way violence had escalated and the apparent intransigence of the military would halt political reform in Egypt, but the elections this week have been amazingly peaceful. I am cautiously optimistic!

Chris: Thanks, Dr. Shrock!

Facing the Facade with Caleb Henry: An Interview

2011-11-30T15:23:00.000-08:00

In order to get some fresh voices on here, I am going to start a series of interviews. There is not clear criteria for the people I choose, other than that they are interesting to me and perhaps have some sort of virtual presence. I start with Caleb Henry, who is a college friend of mine, a seminarian, a philosopher, a youth pastor, and blogger at Facing the Facade. I hope you find his thoughts to be as insightful as I did.

Chris: Caleb you are one of the most philosophical people I know, but you're also a youth pastor. How do those two mesh?

Caleb: I wish they would mesh more often. Sometimes I feel like they are at complete odds with one another, and there are even times where I feel like my ministry is at a disadvantage because of my philosophical impulses (i.e. analyzing things, being skeptical of claims, etc.). What I have found is that though these two are often at odds with one another they actually make me a better person in ministry. Of course, if I get too philosophical with people, I will lose them—and this is not good, especially when studying the Bible, because people can feel inferior and might be discouraged from studying it more. Where it helps me is that it keeps me balanced in my personal life. It is kind of like my philosophical side and my ministry side challenge one another so much that it keeps me from getting too completely absorbed in one over the other. This is especially important for ministers because there are so many horror stories out there about ministers whose ministry dictates their life. This can have a tremendously negative impact on families—and, in some cases, it breaks them apart.

From all of this you would probably get the impression that philosophy has only been successful for my ministry in teaching me to live a balanced life. I don’t think that is all it does for me. Initially, when I became a philosophy major in college, I did so thinking that this was going to help me defend the faith better. What it did at that time however was the reverse. I almost lost my faith! (that is another story). But by going through the initial pain of not being sure about my faith, philosophy helped ground my faith in the “true” God. Before, I think my faith was more in a certain impression or idea of God; and afterwards my faith was in what Paul Tillich called the “god above god,” that is, the true God who shows up when our false ideas of God fall apart.

The challenge that philosophy presented was like a fire that purified and forged my faith into a stronger reality. I don’t think that this is the purpose of philosophy—to help us have a better faith in God—but it is what happened to me. Incidentally, I think my whole education geared me for the challenges of ministry because it challenged my faith so much. This is why I can’t stand it when people say they can do ministry without college or seminary. My response is always: “Would you want a physician to work on you without a degree or education? Probably not. So why would you want a minister, who is entrusted with your soul, without one?” Faith needs to be challenged; we need more ministers willing to step out and let themselves be challenged in this way.
Chris: What's your favorite part about working with teenagers? What's the biggest challenge?

Caleb: What I love about teenagers is that they are more ready than most adults to entertain different ideas or ways of living. They are passionate and open. Everything they do and say is filled with such passion and openness that I often feel like my faith, in contrast, is too stolid. That they are passionate and open, however, is also my greatest challenge. For instance, their passion can be so great at times that other virtues—like prudence and patience—are smothered. And their openness can also get them into anything that looks, sounds and feels appealing.

My challenge, as their minister, is to redirect their passion and fill their openness with something authentic and truly good because if they are left on their own they can go off the deep end and drown. At the same time, I also have to be aware of myself and my own efforts to channel passion and fill the void in their lives. Not only can I get in way over my head, thinking that I can meet any challenge I am presented with, but I can easily manipulate their emotions and young minds with a false faith.

I see this in youth ministries all the time. Ministers and youth workers want the best for their students so much that they resort to emotional and intellectual manipulation to influence them. This is why so many youth groups and youth conferences are focused on giving kids this amazing “God-moment” and getting them to commit their lives to Christ. These motivations are not wrong in their own right, but the methods can manipulate teenagers so much that they end up with a faith in a god totally unlike the God of the Old and New Testaments. This is why the commitments made at most youth events rarely last that long; there is nothing to them but a consumerist distortion of God and faith. So this is my challenge: to fill the void and passion with something truly worthy without resorting to cheap and manipulative methods in doing so.

Chris: You, unlike me, are a big fan of the fantasy genre, if my memory serves me well. What is one fantasy book and one film everyone should read and watch? Why?

Caleb: Oh, I could give you a long list for this one! But if I had to narrow it down to one book and one movie I would suggest people read “The Game of Thrones (Song of Fire and Ice)” by George R.R. Martin and watch “Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.”

The reason for the book suggestion is that Martin has the power to invoke imagination as well as challenge the way stories—not just fantasy—are told. His talent is that he can portray lives of fictional characters without falling into the trap of a flawless protagonist and a completely pernicious antagonist. Everyone in his story is flawed and somewhat morally compromised. Even if there are some characters that you fall in love and completely identify with—a natural part of reading any good story—Martin makes sure to keep you in check because not only will flaws be revealed but characters die mercilessly in this book. This can be a startling and depressing experience—I remember almost being sick to my stomach with sadness—but it is good for the soul nonetheless. In fact, if you can make it through reading his book, you can handle life, because in his books the story is rife with as many of the vicissitudes you will experience in your life.

The reason for the movie is quite simple: it is based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s books! Though it is not as good as the books—which, for all intents and purposes, created the Fantasy genre in fiction—the movie series captures the spirit and fun of his original story quite well. I picked the first movie because it begins in such humble, bucolic surroundings and ends with such a dark and challenging journey ahead that you cannot help but identify with it. Who doesn’t feel this in their own lives, especially as you mature in life and realize that the halcyon days of your youth have now turned into the challenge of work, marriage and family? “The Fellowship of the Rings” is also the perfect movie to identify with in the respect that one can see the challenge between good and evil, hope and destruction, life and death most clearly. Obviously, Tolkien wrote these books in the mist of WW1, and so much of that experience is presented within it. Its enduring value, however, is that these books/movies transcend any particular moment; they capture the difficulties and feelings of despair, the triumphs and happiness, that are part and parcel of any human life. This is why, the books, and even the movies, are classics. They are simply timeless!

Chris: You and I, through our blogs and verbally, do a bit of bickering back and forth, mostly as it relates to politics. The polarized discourse today is often not of respect and friendship across ideological divides. How are you able to both disagree and respect a person?

Caleb: It is not simple, that is for sure. Those who pretend it is have no idea what they are talking about. We all naturally gravitate to those most like us, for one reason or another—out of selfishness, perhaps.

I think the key is deference, a virtue which is little regarded in a society fixated on individualism and personal rights. Deference is saying to another person that “I can respect you not on the basis of your political positions but simply as another human being who has the same faults and inadequacies I do.”

The trouble is, most humans think politics should be discussed with hearing both sides. There are so many problems with that. Are there just two sides? Even if we grant that there are, one of them or both must be false, so why should I entertain another side if I think it is false? This is why the notion that we should hear both sides is bogus; it accomplishes nothing.

What is really productive is not the ability to hear both sides but to defer to another person. This is not saying, “ you are right, so I will go with you,” nor is it saying, “to hell with it, let’s just do it so we can get along with one another.” What it is saying is, “I can’t trust myself to make all the decisions, or to know everything that needs to be known, therefore, I naturally listen and work with others different from myself, not because I agree with them, but because I have no choice but to do so.”

I think deference is difficult for most Americans for a variety of reasons. The main reason is because we have been taught that each person individually should have a say in any given matter. That will just cause confusion! (And indeed it does!) Deference teaches us that we don’t have a right to handle any situation or problem on our own. Such a right is an illusion. Rather what we have is an obligation to work together because it is as a collective body that we are most successful. Now, this is not saying, “Just hand it over to the experts” or “Congress will sort things out in the end.” We all know that experts fail, and we certainly know Congress fails (more often than not). Deference is saying that we are not equipped by ourselves as individuals to handle problems. It is saying, in effect, that our natural modus operandi (mode of operation) should always begin with “how can I work together with everyone” instead of “I have got it right, or my politically party is right, so everyone else should fall in line.”

I firmly believe that it is because of our commitment to deference that you and I are able to talk about these issues without disrespecting one another.

Chris: Your blog is called Facing the Facade. What facade are you trying to face?

Caleb: Very simply: myself. What I have learned in life is that no one deceives me as much as I do myself. Whether it is in my intellectual, spiritual, or athletic abilities, I deceive myself on a regular basis. How I deceive myself varies but in general it has to do with the fact that I build up an image of myself that has no basis in who I am, especially as a follower of Christ. My frustration is that these images always shatter when I am not able to live up to the idea I have of myself. This is why “facing the façade” is a spiritual exercise in learning to discover myself as I am and not as I wish myself to be. It is a humbling process but one that is essential to a healthy spiritual life.

Chris: Thanks, Caleb!

Loneliness on the Dance Floor

2011-11-28T12:05:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes a crowded room can feel the most alone." ~Mat Kearney, "Wait"

“Alone we are, deeply alone, and always, in store for us, a layer of loneliness even deeper."
~Philip Roth, American Pastoral

Throughout middle school, high school, and college, I was a total wallflower in any dancing environment. I stood with my other insecure buddies in a corner, and scoffed at anyone who let loose a little bit. Thankfully, a girl broke me out of this after I graduated from college.

But even now, as I busta move among siblings and/or friends, I'm still aware of people out there like my old (or current) self. I see that person in the corner smoking a cigarette. Perhaps even more painfully, I notice that person dancing by himself, mentally begging someone to dance with him. And yes, I see the more aggressive ones, throwing themselves onto people, with or without invitation.

It's a weird world we live in, where both great joy--good food and drink, celebration, friendship--and and the great sadness of loneliness are so apparent in one setting. I think it's part of the human condition and that we all feel it at times, although often I have detached from pain of it.

But I think the reason I sense the loneliness from others so quickly on the dance floor is because it surfaces my own. The only real difference between me and the person dancing with himself is that I usually show up to a party or bar or wedding with other people. In other words, I mask the loneliness; I surround it so that it doesn't come out at inconvenient times, like while I'm dancing.

But it comes out anyway.

Swede’s Shattered Image in Roth’s American Pastoral

2011-11-22T08:18:00.000-08:00

One cannot seriously read and interpret Philip Roth’s American Pastoral without wrestling with the book’s protagonist enigma, Seymour “The Swede” Levov. But in entering the work, it might be useful to offer the same disclaimer that the book’s narrator, Nathan Zuckerman, offered: “The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It’s getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That’s how we know we’re alive: we’re wrong." Perhaps what Zuckerman is saying is that even as his story reveals a shattering of the image he had of the Swede, he is still not certain of the accuracy of where he arrived. Zuckerman’s view of Swede was second-hand; the reader and literary critics hears at least third-hand, which makes the task all the more challenging.

On the surface, “everywhere he looked, people were in love with (the Swede)." Swede was the kind of person “for whom there were no obstacles, who appeared never to have to struggle." Even his brother, Jerry, who wallowed in the obscurity of his brother’s shadows, said “Everybody loved him, a perfectly decent person who could have escaped stupid guilt forever." Gary Johnson, in “The Presence of Allegory: The Case of Philip Roth’s American Pastoral,” calls the Swede a “symbol, someone who represents or stands for a multitude of abstract positive ideas” like “hope, strength, innocence, purity." As a high schooler, cheerleaders created a cheer specifically for the Swede, which they chanted at his football, basketball, and baseball teams. He married Miss New Jersey and raised his children in the pastoral setting of Old Rimrock in New Jersey. Zuckerman, a high school acquaintance of the Swede’s younger brother Jerry, described the Swede as “if not divine, a distinguished cut above the more primordial humanity of just about everyone else at school." When the Swede acknowledges his presence as a child, Zuckerman says, “The adored had acknowledged the adoring." But even then, Zuckerman figured “it couldn’t have been as easy for him as it looked, that a part of it was a mystique."

Even though Zuckerman’s awe for the Swede mirrors the god-like status that successful athletes can take on in real life, such fantasy cannot be sustained. Claire Sigrist-Sutton, in her article “Mistaking Merry: Tearing off the Veil in American Pastoral,” says it like this: “The partial narrative, so easily mistaken for the whole, is the Swede’s, one of mythic proportions, worldly success, and terrible tragedy." Zuckerman points out that “Even those who had it all as kids sooner or later get the average share of misery." The misery is foreshadowed by a narrative reflection on The Kid from Tompkinsville, a John R. Tunis book for teenagers that both Zuckerman and the Swede read. While “the kid, the book’s protagonist, played baseball for the Brooklyn Dodgers, “each triumph is rewarded with a punishing disappointment or crushing accident." Zuckerman asks the obvious question: “Did it occur to (the Swede) that if disaster could strike down the Kid from Tompkinsville, it could come and strike the great Swede down too?”

Whether or not Swede made the connection, the next 414 pages tell his tragic story. For starters, he actively contributed to the constructed image that was created for him. Rather than subjecting himself to any conflict that would have resulted from the pursuit of his own desires, he was, as Jerry put it, “fatally attracted to his duty." His other motivation, according to Jerry, was “for the appearance” of his decisions. His adherence to the expectations of others led him to serve in the Marines in World War II and also to choose taking over his father’s glove-making business instead of pursuing a professional baseball offer.

But for all his good intentions, devastation was on its way. There was plenty of conflict with a daughter who would eventually be raped and experiment with lesbianism, political radicalism, and the religious fringe. But his daughter, whose political convictions led her to set off the bomb that “detonated (the Swede’s) life” was far from his only problem. His life was also full of tension with his father, a lost intimacy with his wife, affairs, a quest for who to blame, and political disorder. As Zuckerman observed, “Alone we are, deeply alone, and always, in store for us, a layer of loneliness even deeper." Try as he did, the Swede could not escape the pain, though he did continue to believe in his family and his America: “He was trying hard to continue to exist as himself despite the unlikeliness of everything." So he lived his whole life “with all the shame of masquerading as the ideal man."

It seems like no accident that the Swede, s a middle class Jewish American, approaches life with optimism and a solid work ethic, believing life is and will be good, meaningful, and fulfilling. According to Sigrist-Sutton, “The American Dream becomes one in which, if you work hard, if you can assimilate the best you can, you can gain an honest measure of comfort and respectability in this world." But alas, life did not turn out that way for the Swede, at least not fully. Jeffrey Rubin-Dorsky, in “Philip Roth and American Jewish Identity: The Question of Authentic” speculates that the Swede’s attempt to set himself apart from his Jewishness was destined for failure. Aimee Pozorski, in “American Pastoral and the Traumatic Ideals of Democracy,” goes even farther, saying that “Swede, and the culture, the politics, and the economics system he represents, have at least indirectly produced the nightmares they suffer." Which is why his own daughter’s resentment of his country was so difficult to take. As Zuckerman says, “There wasn’t much difference, and she knew it, between hating America and hating (her family). He loved the America she hated and blamed for everything that was perfect in life and wanted violently to overturn."

In the aftermath of his wife’s face lift and finding out that a friend of his hid his daughter after her political crime, Swede asks an ironic question mental question: “What kind of mask is everyone wearing?” It is ironic because the Swede feeds his own mask as much or more than anyone else does. The scene that began Zuckerman’s search is telling. The Swede had invited him to dinner in New York to talk about the Swede’s father. But during the dinner, the Swede does not talk about his father, but rather about the brilliance of his and his sons’ lives. He simply tells the story that has always been told about him. Everything is great. Happiness and achievements abound. His family loves each other. But that story is (at least partially) a fiction. The real painful story behind the mask is “the worst lesson that life can teach—that it makes no sense."

***Note to the reader: This post has been adjusted from an academic reflection on this topic. The citations have been removed for readability.

Rabbit, Run and the Fear of Intimacy

2011-11-17T10:58:00.000-08:00

"'Cause I've been broken, now I've been saved
I've learned to cry and I've learned how to pray

And I'm learning, I'm learning even I can be changed

And everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry

Well I've been around enough to know that that was the lie

That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons

Well we are children no more, we have sinned and grown old

And our Father still waits and He watches down the road

To see the crying boys come running back to His arms

And be growing young"

~Rich Mullins, "Growing Young"

In the acclaimed 1986 film, Hoosiers, Myra Fleener observes that “a basketball hero around here is treated like a god.” Speaking about the town’s star, Jimmy Chitwood, she says, “I don't want this to be the high point of his life. I've seen them, the real sad ones. They sit around the rest of their lives talking about the glory days when they were seventeen years old.” John Updike, the late American novelist and cultural critic, has shown a willingness to take on the godship of a male athlete and the loneliness that comes with it.

In “Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu,” John Updike’s well-received essay about Ted Williams, he writes that baseball “is an essentially lonely game." He continues, arguing that Williams’ “craftsmanship, his rigorous pride, had become itself a kind of heroism." For better or worse, the language—craftsmanship, pride, heroism—is stereotypically (at least) associated with and about men who stand alone. Updike’s fascination with the loneliness of baseball extends to fans. While watching Williams’ last game at Fenway Park in Boston, Updike notices “one of those frowning, chestless young-old men who can frequently be seen, often wearing sailor hats, attending ball games alone." Perhaps those fans are also the ones who—according to Updike’s poem “Male Voices, From Below”—discuss mostly the “monotony” of “who should / have been traded for whom, and who / isn’t worth a dime of his salary.”

Readers of Updike’s Rabbit tetralogy know that Updike’s interest in male alienation extends beyond essays about baseball. As Updike has said, “Our condition is basically one of anxiety, of lostness." Henry Angstrom, or Rabbit as he is called, is the protagonist of Updike’s most famous and criticized fiction: Rabbit, Run (1960), Rabbit Redux (1971), Rabbit is Rich (1981), Rabbit at Rest (1990), and Rabbit Remembered (2001). My focus will be on Rabbit, Run, in which Harry flees his pregnant wife, Janice, cohabits with a prostitute, then returns as his wife births their child in the hospital. In Rabbit, Run, Harry, who “hates being disliked” and “is seeking what you never find” weaves in and out of relationships but is, at least psychologically, alone.

The beginning of knowing Rabbit as a man and as a character is to see him as a former basketball star. He has been “spoiled by his athletic successes” according to the narrator. The novel’s opening scene provides an additional glimpse into Rabbit’s psyche:

“Rabbit knows the way. You climb up through the little grades and then get to the top and everybody cheers; with the sweat in your eyebrows you can’t see very well and the noise swirls around you and lifts you up, and then you’re out, not forgotten at first, just out, and it feels good and cool and free. You’re out, and sort of melt, and keep lifting, until you become like to these kids just one more piece of the sky of adults that hangs over them in the town, a piece that for some queer reason has clouded and visited them. They’ve not forgotten him: worse, they never heard of him."

But Rabbit has not forgotten his stardom and neither has his former Coach, Tothero. Both characters boast freely to unimpressed peers about those memories. Tothero calls Rabbit his “greatest boy” and tells Rabbit he “did more for me than I did for you." That adults still remember and bask in Rabbit’s stardom is an annoyance to Rabbit’s mistress, Ruth. She tells him, “You have it pretty good…Oh all the world loves you…What I wonder is why?” But Rabbit sees it differently: “I’m not much good for anything now, but I really was good at (basketball)," drawing an important distinction between the past and the future. Apparently, after wowing crowds with his athletic skills, selling kitchen materials is not fulfilling for Rabbit, and neither is marriage. Scholar Jack Moore also acknowledges the distinction between Rabbit’s basketball life and everything else: “The inevitable question about Rabbit concerns whether or not he is a failure in life."

The disconnect between Rabbit’s sexual life and his emotional presence is a stark one. His world is one, as Larry Taylor puts it in "Married Men and Magic Tricks," of “desertion of a wife; domestic ugliness and disorder; alcoholic sorrow following hard on the heels of adultery." Leaving a pregnant wife may not be the unforgivable sin, but it does invoke judgment from readers and other characters in the novel. But as Tothero advised him, “Do what your heart commands. Your heart is our only guide." Apparently his heart told him to flee the intimacy of marriage, more than once. Or perhaps it was more his head than his heart: “His life seems a sequence of grotesque poses assumed to no purpose, a magic dance empty of belief. There is no God; Janice can die: the two thoughts come at once, in one slow wave." Later, he “does not know why (he) left," revealing the confusion of one trying to do what he thinks is right but who is pulled in the opposite direction much of the time. His dilemma comes right out of his Christian New Testament: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15). As a pained Ruth tells him, “You love being married to everybody," which of course ultimately equals being married to nobody at all.

He tries to explain his dilemma to Eccles, the Episcopalian priest: “I played first-rate basketball. I really did. And after you’re first-rate at something, no matter what, it kind of takes the kick out of being second-rate. And that little thing Janice and I had going, boy, it was really second-rate." Within the intimacy and messiness of his marriage, suddenly anything looked good but what he had: “Harry has often wanted and never had a girl like that, a little Catholic from a shabby house, dressed in flashy bargain clothes." And “all of a sudden it hit (him) how easy it was to get out, just walk out, and by damn it was easy." Instead, he opts for a mechanical-sort of sexuality, which Updike describes liberally. But as Baylor professor Ralph Wood observes, “Even Rabbits sexual life with…Ruth has turned stale and predictable." And so, to a compliant Ruth who loved him, he eventually demands: “Listen. Tonight you turned against me. I need to see you on your knees. I need you to…do it."

To read Rabbit, Run as soley a condemnation of Rabbit’s sexual infidelities cheapens Updike’s work and does a disservice to Rabbit’s psyche and the moral dilemma involved. Jeff Cambell explains that “all (Updike’s) books are meant to be moral debates with the reader." Wood adds, “Updike refuses to censure Rabbit as a moral scoundrel, neither does he endorse him as an exemplar of the moral life." If not a moral scoundrel, what then, are we to make of Harry Angstrom in Rabbit, Run? It is a vicious cycle, this high from athletic godship, which leads to dissatisfaction in everything else. This dissatisfaction leads to an existential quest, and for this purpose, Updike cleverly works in Eccles, a priest with a little bit of a savior complex, out to save Rabbit’s and Janice’s marriage.

Eccles is a fascinating character, well-worth his own analysis in another study. From the glimpse readers get of his marriage and relationship with his father, it is apparent that he has his own manhood issues to sort out, even as he tries to play the heroic moral compass for Rabbit. We are told that Eccles’ father and grandfather had vicious theological arguments from their “Darwinian Desist” and “Anglo-Catholic” positions, respectively. Eccles admits to Rabbit that “You know how it is with fathers, you never escape the idea that maybe after all they’re right." The narrator later acknowledges that for all Eccles’ activity in his parish and world, “he doesn’t believe anything." Sanford Pinsker calls him a “church failure." Seeing all of this, the reader is put in a place where he cannot help but be as troubled by Eccles as he is by Rabbit. His telling Rabbit’s father that “There’s a great deal of goodness in your son," might be true, but coming from a befuddled priest who “goes to the weaker side of a fight almost automatically" does not add to its credibility. Needless to say, Eccless does not ultimately have his own answers, let alone the answers Rabbit is looking for.

In the end, Rabbit does what he does best. He runs. Undoubtedly, he has left behind a wake of devastated characters, but this time they are probably less surprised. Running is the pattern that develops out of his shame, confusion, disappointment, and moral directionless. As Taylor observes, Rabbit “(daydreams) a new life for himself and then (moves) in to fill its perimeters."

Admittedly, I would be less interested in this topic if I did not feel like I was putting a mirror up to myself, if not for what I am, certainly that which I am capable of. It is a sobering recognition.

***Note to the reader: This essay came out of and has been adjusted from a reflection I wrote as a part of a literature independent study at IUPUI. In-text citations have been taken out to improve the readability.

Penn State Science Professor, Janitor, Nittany Lion Mascot Fired for Sandusky Associations

2011-11-14T11:20:00.000-08:00

In the latest of a series of Penn State firings following former assistant coach Jerry Sandusky's indictment for various sexual assault charges, Penn State board of trustees member Bruce Stewart announced that the university has parted ways with three more employees.

Video evidence confirms that non-tenured science professor William Jones ate lunch with Sandusky in the student center as late as 1997. According to an anonymous colleague, Jones and Sandusky maintained a loose friendship after being hired at Penn State during the same year. "Being friends with a sexual predator goes completely against everything Penn State stands for," Stewart declared.

Tim Dawson has cleaned the Penn State football locker room for 23 years. While there is no video or qualitative evidence connecting him to the sexual assaults, the Penn State board thought it prudent to release Dawson of us toilet-cleaning duties, just in case. "He will be given a full pension," Stewart assured reporters. Dawson could not be reached for comment.

The most surprising firing announced was that of Nittany Lion mascot Jessica Wilson. Wilson has worn the lion's outfit for three seasons and received a small stipend for her fanatical behavior. A current Penn State senior, she will also not be allowed to graduate. According to Stewart, Wilson was released for giving Sandusky a high five on the sideline during Penn State's 31-20 win over Indiana in 2009.

Stewart was unclear about whether more firings were on the way. "We're still investigating," he said on behalf of Penn State. "It is our job to assure that all Sandusky collaborators are brought to justice."

***Note to the reader: Clearly this post is satirical. While I find nothing comical about Sandusky's behavior--it's quite repulsive--or the trauma the victims were forced into, what I question is the way in which we, as a society, respond to these types of events. Suddenly, tragedy becomes a public relations fiasco, so those in power play the "cover your own ass" game. Thus, the firings of the university president, athletic director, and the school's biggest name, legendary football coach Joe Paterno. Notice that the ones who do the firing--the board--are the highest Penn State officials to survive the whole mess. How convenient. (By the way, I am NOT a Penn State fan.)To me, this series of events, like so many others, signifies a divorcing of real personal responsibility, rather than an instituting of justice, which is how these actions are often framed. It seems to give us comfort to vilify people like Paterno when the truth is, his agency was pretty limited and few of us would have responded differently. The comfort we enjoy disturbs me. Many of the names and all of the quotes in my post are made up.

Occupy What?

2011-11-08T14:43:00.000-08:00

"Where there is no vision, the people perish."
~Proverbs 29:18

"An unjust law is no law at all."
~ St. Augustine

It is no surprise to me that a left-leaning political movement has caught on in response to the right-leaning (and seemingly fading) Tea Party. Both sub-groups have plenty to be angry about. A societal lifestyle of debt and rising unemployment is both real and tragic. Both groups deserve to exist and both need criticism.

There are aspects of the Occupy movement that appeal to me (others that don't). The movement offers a critique of an irresponsible and corrupt government, which tends to make policy that preserves the status quo, that is to say most of the wealth and power that lies in the control of a few.

My beef with Occupy Movement isn't new, but I think it has yet to be answered. What is the vision? What do they hope for? What is the intention? What policy changes do they want? And what sacrifices are they willing to make to achieve those goals?

So far, I have mostly heard some version of "We want jobs!" (From the 15% of the movement who needs a job, anyway). I suppose those who are employed want a better job or a raise. But how? And whose job is it to institute these changes? So far, I have not heard coherent answers to these questions.

The United States and the world as a whole maintains a steep tradition of civil disobedience, both successful and unsuccessful. Our own nation, in fact, started with civil disobedience against the British. A short memory of what has taken place in the Middle East during "Arab Spring" can point to violent and non-violent protest that accomplished several regime changes, hopefully (but no guarantee) for the betterment of the world. Either way, though, the movements had vision. They knew what they wanted in a concrete sense.

The same is true with the Civil Rights Movement in the U.S. or the Vietnam protests. Those people didn't just show up in parks with signs and chant slogans into television cameras. They had objectives, not just rage. (Note: if you set things on fire and throw rocks and other items at police officers who are definitely "a part of the 99," you will probably get arrested and it may be forceful). My point is, the action in successful protests--restaurant sit-ins, burning draft cards, etc.--is purposeful and intentional.

It also interests me that the chief complaint of the movement seems to be economic, and yet the demographics of the crowds suggest most of their members are white, have jobs, and perhaps are even alarmingly middle class. This does not mean that they don't have a legitimate complaint. My interest in that dynamic, however, is that I know that the people who suffer the most are often minorities. Why are those minorities less interested in the movement? (For one response to that question, check out this article). And why doesn't the mainstream media report the racial demographics of the Occupy movement as much as, say, the Tea Party?

I have a theory about why this movement has not yet stepped in the direction of coherent arguments and specific actions. Most of the crowds are left-leaning (the numbers of who claim to be democrats are in the thirties, percentage-wise, but many of them claim some sort of independent status), and they are aware that to be too specific would implicate their beloved President Obama and his (formerly) Democratic Congress. If the movement lasts long enough and Obama does not get re-elected in 2012, it will be interesting to see how Occupy changes.

An Over the Rhine Show and Why I Haven't Been Able to Get it Out of my Mind Since

2011-11-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

"We settled for that, then--for luminance over order, for terse beauty and a smeared-lipstick brand of soul; for spot-welding over handicraft; for leaving 'the edges wild,' as Linford's father had once so richly advised him, and for never comparing this particular journey to any other. I hear this batch of songs now the way the last one of them, 'All my Favorite People,' seems to see the world: as naked in its finery, fiercely tender, and thorny with sweet promise; as heroically humbled, and broken to the point of availing true light to anyone who cares to look inside. That's a gift, by the way: brokenness is raw humanity on display, and anyone willing for you to see theirs is generously offering you something. Not for the sake of comparison, but as shared experience and continuing wonder at the mystery involved in the process." ~Joe Henry, (Over the Rhine's producer)

"As for your tender heart--
This world's gonna rip it wide open
It ain't gonna be pretty
But you're not alone
'Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know
Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers
You're welcome
Yeah, you're safe right here
You don't have to go"
~Over the Rhine, "All my Favorite People"

"Margie struck Geneva with her baby doll
Barb knocked off the medcart comin' down the hall
Bob leads the congregation when he sings
How now brown cow
Only God can save us now
Jean says fuzzy wuzzy fuzzy wuzzy was a bear
Miss Cleve sings Hallelujah from the choir in her chair
Behind his busy apron Raymond's naked standing proud
Only God can save us now
Who will save me
From myself
In the night?"
~Over the Rhine, "Only God can Save us Now"

This past Saturday, I drove north just over an hour with two others to watch and listen to Over the Rhine play at Fort Wayne's C2G Music Hall. The dimly-lit venue--which seems to double as some sort of church or preschool--was full but not sold out for the folk-soul combination from Cincinnatti (the act's name comes from a Cincy neighborhood).

I have listened to Over the Rhine for several years--never obsessively--and even seen them play before (in Indianapolis as an Anderson University undergrad). At the group's core is a married couple, Karin Bergquist (acoustic guitar, lead vocals) and Linford Detweiler (piano, bass, backup vocals). Various others have contributed to their work at different times, but since 1991, the duo has put out 14 studio albums, five live albums, and three solo albums (by Detweiler).

They write their own meaningful music from their farm; that is to say they are distinctly unmanufactored, which adds to the appeal. I don't think they're albums sell a million copies, but their fans are loyal, and perhaps most impressive to me, is that they have lasting power in a difficult market because what they are saying and living compels a certain kind of person.

They are the kind of people and artists who soothe you with their songs, put you at ease with their words and humor, and intrigue you with their stories. I told my girlfriend that they seemed like the kind of people who absolutely haven't blinked at the horrors and the pain of this world, that they have endured much together and learned to laugh along the way.

The story goes that the couple was on the verge of divorce and out of that season came the album "A Drunkard's Prayer." As you would expect, the result is a far cry from the Katy Perrys of the world. Like any marriage or relationship worth having, the album is full of pain, tenderness, honesty, and grace.

I left the concert on Saturday aware that I know an image of Bergquist and Detweiler more than I know the real people. Nonetheless, the way they look at each other on stage, their chemistry, is contagious. You get the sense that they have lived/loved well and forgiven much.

This, perhaps, is the biggest tension of my life right now. In my head and on the surface, I am drawn to what may be an upcoming season of my life, that is is to say the commitment of marriage, the rooting of myself in a place, and work I believe in for a long time. But inside of me, at my core, emotionally, I am terrified of this. There is too much exposure there. And what if I screw it up?! I hate having any responsibility for the emotional life of another. And yet, it is unavoidable. Life is safer in heady debates, job applications, and professional acquaintances. As much as part of me knows that life's real joy and learning comes in messiness and intimacy, the pattern of my life is in brief attachments, transience, clean partings.

But still, I want what Bergquist and Detweiler have.

This Just In: No One Cares About the NBA Lockout

2011-10-27T17:20:00.000-07:00

It seems like you have to look closely for it to even find NBA lockout headlines. As far as I can see, the World Series, college football analysis, and college basketball predictions all take up more space and gain more attention than NBA negotiations between players and owners. Two weeks into the would-have-been season, Indianapolis Star columnist Matthew Tully put it like this: "I speak for many fans when I offer this warning: We're not coming back."

Count me among those fans. Although, admittedly, I haven't been much of an NBA fan since Michael Jordan retired for the third time in 2003. Guess Kobe Bryant and LeBron James don't really do it for me, for whatever reason. And that's from a hoosier who grew up playing, watching, and loving basketball. The college game isn't "pure" by any means, but it seems, at the very least, so much more interesting than the NBA. Who wouldn't rather fill out an NCAA tournament bracket and catch four games in a day than they would to suffer through two straight NBA playoff match-ups? Much less actually pay money to fill a seat.

Tully goes on to make the insightful point that low-income workers like bartenders and waitresses--whose very income depends on crowds gathering to watch games--probably don't have much sympathy for the plus or minus a million dollars that go toward So-and-So's contract extension.

We often label American politicians "out of touch" with the every-day realities of most people. I suppose many of them probably are. But what about professional athletes, coaches, and owners? They're probably even more out of touch because they don't rely on winning elections every few years. They are like the rich and powerful dictator with no term limits.

They can lock out for the rest of my life, for all I care.

A Problem with Tolerance

2011-10-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

I teach basic composition at IUPUI, which is the required writing class that all undergraduates take. One of the texts we use to generate verbal and written responses is Dr. Jean Twenge's Generation Me: Why Today's Young Americans are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled--and More Miserable than Ever.

There are plenty of academics who have taken her to task for her methodology, but it has been interesting for me to read someone who attempts to make sense of my generation. The text was chosen for me, but students tend to respond pretty well to it, too, even if they understandably start out with some initial defensiveness.

The other day I was in the cubicle room for university adjuncts, and one of the other professors who also teaches this class and uses this text was having a conversation with a student. They were discussing why Generation Me seems to be somewhat politically apathetic.

The student speculated that perhaps "we" are apathetic because we have been taught so much "tolerance." That is to say, we have been taught to defer our discernment and to assume the best of people rather than criticize. Pushing the logic of tolerance, we either start or finish the tolerance with our own behavior. I thought it was a pretty astute connection by the student, but the instructor, clearly uncomfortable with the idea, quickly directed him elsewhere. "Or maybe it's because your generation has known war for most of your lives," she suggested.

Tolerance, like most ways of treating people, can go either way in terms of its usefulness. I have expressed my misgivings about it on here before. Respect and understanding are definitely good things, but I think tolerance can actually get in the way of that.

Just like the student in the aforementioned example suggested, tolerance can hinder by discouraging young people from discerning healthy verses unhealthy, right versus wrong, moral versus immoral. I'm aware that there is all sorts of "gray" in between those dichotomies, but I don't think that completely discredits the dichotomies as ways to understand human behavior. It is confusing because young students are often told to be completely tolerant but then told to treat the earth well and that war is bad. Those statements, of course, involve making discernments. Which is it? Are we to discern or not? Of course, you can probably figure out what my answer is.

There is a good book on this topic, so if you're interested, check out Stan Gaede's When Tolerance is no Virtue: Political Correctness, Multiculturalism, and the Future of Truth and Justice. On the other end of the pendulum, we could definitely be too critical, too judgemental; we could take the life out of people with our moral stinginess. But in the self-esteem generation (again, see Twenge), that is usually not the problem.

With "tolerance," we resign ourselves to not really understanding people because we are afraid to have really honest, self-critical conversations about life. We sell ourselves short of healing because healing would involve acknowledging that something is wrong with us.

Reflections on the Tough Mudder (Central Texas)

2011-10-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

I'll never forget a conversation I had a few years ago with a friend and former athlete who was then the Interim Press Secretary for Senator Gordon Smith of Oregon. He said he didn't know if anything would ever compare again to dunking a basketball or scoring touchdowns. Sort of like Myra Fleener in Hoosiers, observing that "a basketball hero around here is treated like a god."

I suppose it is this instinct in male former athletes, coupled with the vow not to become one of those hasbeens sitting around in barber shops, that intrigued a few friends and me about this race known as the "Tough Mudder." According to its promotional materials, it is "probably the toughest event on the planet." (It wasn't by the way, but it was a lot of fun, it sure got me muddy, and it may have begun a stress fracture in my left foot.)

I have been haunted by these "prove myself" events before; here is my column about running a half-marathon in college. So needless to say, when a couple former roommates from Florida called me up and asked me to join them in Texas for a Tough Mudder, I was all in. We completed it together this past weekend just outside of Austin. (The picture you see is me trying to overcome one of the 30 obstacles on the ten-plus-miles course.) Here were my take-a-aways.

Favorite obstacles: The climbing ones. Haystacks, walls, anything that got me out of the mud and gave my muscles a change-of-pace. I knew that season of wall-climbing in Florida would come in useful some day!

Least favorite obstacles: Three-way tie. The first one that deserves mention was the ice bath, which came early in the course. Thankfully for this obstacle that it was a 90-degree day of Texas dry heat. But still, when I came out of this short pond filled with ice, I couldn't see for about a minute. Secondly, there was an obstacle--I don't remember its name--about three-forths of the way through the race that must of had ten straight combinations of hill-then-pool-of-dirty-water-to-wade through. By that point, no one was amused. And that particular stretch of the race was packed, which meant there were people all around you, on both sides. Lastly, I did in fact get shocked three times by 10,000 volts in the last obstacle, and it's no joke. Spectators heard the pop and witnessed the face plant, time and time again. I'm not so sure it's even possible to get out of there without getting shocked.

Pleasant surprise: It's a toss-up between the huge cowshit that was splattered all over the course or the snake we encountered about half-way through. Tough Mudder is a collaborative event, so people would often communicate things backwards. So competitors would sound off repititions of "Hole!" or "Branch!" throughout the race. Then all the sudden it was "Snake!" "Snake!" "Snake!" and sure enough, there was a snake sticking its skinny black head out of a tree not five feet away from the path. Needless to say that was on my mind every time I was in a dark tunnel the rest of the way.

Word to the wise: Train. No matter what the comments on the website say. Some obstacles are really difficult, others fun or just a pain in the ass, but no matter what you still have to run (or walk) for ten or so miles. I was not in great shape, and it showed.

Manufacturing: An Evil?

2011-09-28T18:32:00.000-07:00

"We operate out of the ethic of inefficiency."
~Keith Wasserman at Good Works

"I'm not talking about going back in time. I'm talking about going back in character."
~Wendell Berry, in a debate with former Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz

"How do good men become part of the regime
They don't believe in resistance"
~Josh Garrels, "Resistance"

I got to thinking today as I was hand washing hundreds of carrots after another guy and I picked them out of the field. As I dunked each one individually and fought the caked mud off, it occurred to me that I don't think there is or ever will be a better way to do this. Even if I increased the scale, God forbid. The truth is, we tend toward machines to do our work much of the time, but I'm not so sure we don't deprive ourselves of a connection both to the carrot and the future eater when we give the work over to something without a brain or a pulse. It is only human hands--oriented by the human heart--that can adequately care enough about that carrot and whoever eventually eats it.

As I continued to dunk carrots, I was reminded of a conversation I had recently with a friend of mine. We were talking about teaching, which I sometimes do when I am not washing carrots. I had indicated that I was having a hard time feeling really connected and present in my teaching. With a syllabus created for me, the curriculum already chosen, and students I don't know, it all felt so mechanical. Having done some teaching himself, he said it sounded like I was trying to manufacture the teaching, which is a common mistake. One cannot be moved by either content or students when he (or she) is manufacturing a course. When we manufacture things--or when we consume what has been manufactured--it is all too easy to remain completely emotionally detached from it. It becomes about punching in and out of a proverbial clock.

Perhaps a definition is needed, as surely the semantics do matter. What do I mean by manufacturing? Put simply, I mean the mass production of anything in a place that is far from the consumer and by a process that the consumer does not know. I will concede that manufacturing is the fastest and most efficient alternative we know of. But this process often abuses the earth, the worker, and the consumer who ends up with a shitty product. Not to mention: products that are made with care are almost always better. Who would not rather hang a painted picture from a talented friend than a picture they bought at Walmart? What town does not have a summer drive-in that beats any fast food restaurant in the town? Would anyone out there really claim that Top 40 artists were better than independent ones that last?

Sadly, in our current society, most things are manufactured: chairs, songs, food, religion, even governance and education. This has not always been the case, of course; hence, the Berry epigraph to this post. But this isn't about nostalgia for some imaginary past; this is about working and making and buying and selling with products and people we know. Products when made and prepared with care and bought from people we care about take on a much greater meaning than do manufactured products from some massive store with workers who do not get paid enough. While an alternative to this status quo would be far from easy, it is not out of reach, despite what the progressive economic apologists trumpet.

If manufacturing really is, as I suspect, a great evil, then a response is required out of me. To be clear, as so many people who are smarter than I am have already said, I do not think it is possible to ever fully "escape" the bad system that is in place. I cannot evade my own implication in the injustice. But what I can do--as Berry has noted--is limit my involvement and present, as much as is possible, an alternative with the way that I live. Buy locally, grow my own food, compost, reuse products, limit my energy usage, ride a bike or walk whenever possible, etc. That is only a starter list, of course. Pointing out the injustice is--without bitter resentment or demonizing--is another good place to start.

Which brings me to an important disclaimer. I do not think everyone who benefits from the evil of manufacturing or who participates is evil beyond redemption. I have already noted that I am a participant and at times a benefactor. I understand that sometimes a person's situation dictates that he or she cannot buy local produce (it's availability and cost are not always very accessible). Maybe someone works two minimum wage jobs to support his or her children and does not have time to grow their own food. Maybe someone else cannot afford the pricey purchase of a hybrid vehicle. These and others are all legitimate barriers to entry to a local and more ethical economy. But there is nothing that can fully block a person from this awareness or beginning this "resistance" (thanks, Josh Garrels). I am still dreaming the possibilities in my own life, as I slowly but surely take steps in this direction.

Make no mistake: this requires a painful shift in both my mindsets and my actions. Some of my ambition must die. As I consume less, I will have to work harder. I have to live slower, accomplish less, at least in some sort of corporate sense. The Slow Food Movement has understood this for 25 years. The Amish, a lot longer.

But there is also much to gain with this shift. We will likely find our finances in better shape. We will eat better food and talk to each other more. And as we reclaim the space in our homes, we will find more space to do the things we love. As we work in and around our own homes, physical activity will take care of itself. And rest will also become acceptable again. I suppose really we will be getting our lives (and souls) back.

Ode to a Mother and the Gift of Good Reading

2011-09-24T20:30:00.000-07:00

"Vonneugt's guru status was helped by a puckish public persona. But he had moral authority as well, derived from his suffering. His work was funny without being facetious, sad without being bitter, resigned without admitting defeat. He thought that the quality of life, for most people, was worse than it needed to be but that it could be improved: by enjoying what you had, by only kidding yourself for fun. He was a therapist for many sore hearts besides his own. For all his love of Kilgore Trout's sci-fi banalities, his own work was always original. ~Tom Shippey

"When I spoke with Kamkwamba, now 22--the subject of the best-selling book The Boy Who Harnessed the Win--I was impressed with his ingenuity. But I also felt a pang of concern. That same day, I'd read about the advent of 3-D television. I worried about our kids, sitting on the couch, wearing funny glasses, all the imagination done for them. I worrried they are losing what Kamkwamba found: the joy of creation, of dirty fingernails. It's mostly done for us now. We download. We boot up. We plug and play. We call tech support. And it starts younger and younger. The world of Wii and PlayStation has rendered building blocks laughable. Who needs blocks when you have a joystick?" ~Mitch Albom

"Time slows down in the summer, and the pleasures of reading are intensified by the rhythms of a rising surf or the pebbled antics of a mountain stream. It is my firm belief that the music of water helps connect me to the rhythms of a writer's voice." ~Pat Conroy

"We could constantly judge the quality of life in any town by how many books you could check out of the library at time. One library had a limit of two, and we thought that was disgraceful." ~John Grisham

Growing up, my family was that bunch of weirdos that didn't have a television. My siblings and I hated that fact then; I think most of us appreciate it now. It developed in us was a love for creating and creativity, for competition and sports, and for the world of books and words and writing. I suppose it is not an accident that I write and that a brother of mine edits a sports page. Another brother of mine teaches. This appreciation for reading and education and thought life was a great gift from my parents.

To this day, when we get together, my mother often offers me several articles she has seen that she thinks might interest me. It often takes me too long to actually read them, but this past Friday was one of those glorious slow times when I pulled them out. I was not disappointed, as my mother's offerings displayed a sense of knowing me that only a mother can. Of particular interest were the writings, interviews, and reflections of various writers, including Mitch Albom, Kurt Vonnegut, Pat Conroy, and Josh Grisham. I have read them all some, although none of them to excess. I am fascinated by the life and thoughts of a writer, probably because I am so interested in the craft of writing itself.

The article about Vonnegut was a reflection on the man's life, a late hoosier whose work is not actually all that revered by yours truly, but whose influence on many readers (and writers) cannot be denied. A bit of a cynic, his themes make more sense when considered in the context of a war prisoner whose own mother committed suicide.

I am no expert on pop fiction, but I have picked up John Grisham from time to time, although I did not fall in love with his work either. I do find his life fascinating, though: a Southerner who went from high school quarterback to law school to best-selling writer. Not a bad life, really.

Mitch Albom's literature and career, on the other hand, has always intrigued me. He writes from the perspective of one whose faith is deeply integrated into his life and work, which is a good start. Tuesdays with Morrie was probably his landmark work, and there is good reason for it. (Put it on your 100 books to read in a lifetime list.) Albom's interest in sports is also another connection point for me, and even in that context, he has always seemed deeply thoughtful.

Only recently have I heard of Pat Conroy's work, as an English professor at Ball State suggested up his memoir (The Water is Wide) about teaching on an island in the Atlantic off of South Carolina. I was not disappointed, and it only made me want to pick up some of his other memoirs, particularly his reflections on playing college basketball and on reading. In the article he wrote that my mother gave me, he looked backward at his own development of summer reading habits, which started at his family's Lake Lure cottage in North Carolina. The article reminded me of my family's summer cottage on Little Silver Lake in Wisconsin. I have vivid memories there of my family and I wading our way through our own summer reading. Two of the books I know I read there are C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity and Brennan Manning's Rich Mullins: An Arrow Pointing to Heaven. I am sure there are others. I also remember developing quite the poetic streak there, which is is funny now because I really don't write all that much poetry.

Reading and writing really are good gifts, aren't they? It is through those two venues as much as any that I find myself constructing meaning, that is to say, of trying to make sense of this life. Takes some work, but I would venture to say those habits of the heart and mind also bring us great pleasure.

Lessons From the Farm

2011-09-22T09:22:00.000-07:00

"What I have learned as a farmer I have learned also as a writer, and vice versa. I have farmed as a writer and written as a farmer. This is an experience that is resistant to any kind of simplification. I will go ahead and call it complexification. When I am called, as to my astonishment I sometimes am, a devotee of “simplicity” (since I live supposedly as a “simple farmer”), I am obliged to reply that I gave up the simple life when I left New York City in 1964 and came here to Kentucky. In New York, I lived as a passive consumer, supplying nearly all my needs by purchase, whereas here I supply many of my needs from this place by my work (and pleasure) and am responsible besides for the care of the place."
~Wendell Berry from The Way of Ignorance

I always get a kick out of friends and acquaintances from out-of-state who assume that because I'm from Indiana, I grew up shucking corn and bailing hay. Hunting, fishing, and canning vegetables from the garden. Truth is, I did grow up in a town of 1,400, but mostly I spent my youth shooting basketballs and hitting baseballs. I wish I had learned some of aforementioned skills, but I have committed some time in my twenties to at least learn how to grow my own food. Thus, last January, I moved onto Harvestland Farm, which required of me ten hours a week in the greenhouses, fields, or markets. I am so glad I did, and only recently did I move off the farm to be able to concentrate more fully on my writing, teaching, and graduate studies. I cannot adequately summarize everything I learned, but here are a few of the lessons I learned:

1. The importance of soil restoration.

Surprisingly (or perhaps not so surprisingly in a created world), soil is a lot like us. It needs nutrients, it needs broken down at times, it needs rest, and it is capable of producing great (or terrible) fruit. Even though we are--in some sense--a business, we have found a niche in farming diversely and organically. If you walk in one of our three (soon to be five) greenhouses, you will see a lot of green. Spinach, lettuce, kale, mizuna, arugula: you name it. Admittedly, when I first arrived at the farm, I didn't even know what a lot of these things were. But after a crop is done with its harvest, that soil goes through a very careful process. We are constantly rotating crops, as to not deplete the soil of all its potency. We add compost or manure and mix it in with what is already there. Sometimes we had substances like fish emulsion or vermiculite to give it some some extra fertility. One time we planted buckwheat, only to cut it and mix it into the soil. Its benefit to the dirt was the only reason we grew it. We use cover crops when space is going to be idle. This serves multiple purposes, including the addition of nutrients for the soil when we cut it down.

But cover crops also help hold soil in its place. Soil erosion is a big problem. We have a pond close to our main field, and one time in the spring, when it rained a bunch, the pond rose and washed into our field. Last fall, cover crops had been planted, but it had been done too late in the the season, so they didn't come up as much as we hoped. The rising and spreading bond caused us to lose a lot of soil. This was totally our mistake.

Big machinery or growing only one crop are common farming practices in today's world, and both are quite harmful to the soil. In the spring, I was surprised that fields around us seemed to hold standing water for weeks on end, whereas ours didn't. I suspect it had something to do with the health of the soil, as well as well-constructed run-offs that our fields have.

A farmer at a market absolutely swore by the pH of soils as a really important indicator. Once again, soil is like our bodies. Both desire a very similar pH. According to that farmer and plenty of research, proper monitoring of soil pH can eliminate a lot problems with insects and weeds.

2. The need for weeding.

This one may seem obvious. Anyone like me who's had a mother who grows flowers knows what weeding is. Just like in our lives, there are always things getting in the way. Clutter collects and stifles. On our particular farm--which is, again, a business--we were often guilty of not weeding enough regularly. So sometimes rows in a greenhouse look a lot like a mini jungle. Though we do have tractors and other small machines. , we do most of our work by hands and with manual tools. But one time, an area had been so neglected that in order to get it ready to plant again, we had to use all kinds of machines. We did the work with some shame, because we all knew the reason we were practically destroying the land to get it ready was because we had neglected the land in the first place.

3. Investing in tools.

There are certain tools everyone knows and associates with a farm: shovels, hoes, and tractors. I do hope to use as little machinery as possible because the work is good for our body and then we don't have to use energy sources that are running out. That said, I know that in order to garden or farm well, I will have to invest in it. Two of the tools I've come to love are broad forks and stirrup hoes. The first is used in the soil restoration process, the second is great for weeding.

4. Strategic scale.
I have always been more interested in farming/gardening for a household than as a moneymaker or an income builder. But I do think on a larger scale than I used to, and I'm open to the possibility of selling at markets. Even if I do, though, scale will be important. I am confident that I will grow a diverse set of crops. But if I take on too much, I will feel guilty for not working beyond my capacity and desire. And the crops and land will suffer from my neglect.

5. Systems that work together.
Like everything else, there are a million ways to farm. But smart, environmentally-conscience farmers do not just take on what everyone else is doing. Sustainability is a buzz word these days. My definition of sustainability would have something to do with all the parts working together. Farming is a process; it is cyclical. The most obvious example I can think of here is composting. Americans do a lot of consuming and very little thinking. We throw away a lot of things that don't need to be filling up landfills. By composting certain scraps, you throw away less and actually benefit the soil. ("Think win-win," habit four.) There are dozens of ways to farm that encourage parts working together, but another that I've been considering recently is the possibility of chickens alongside an orchard. The arrangement apparently works quite well because the chickens eat the damaged fruit that falls, while also fertilizing the trees with their waste.

6. Local, local, local!
It is a pretty accurate generalization that local is almost always better than something corporate or bureaucratic. Would you rather eat at Apple Bees or a town's restaurant that is owned locally and has been around for ages? Same thing for bars, grocery stores, or hardware stores. To be clear, making and buying local often costs more--that's because the work isn't done by slaves--but the better quality is definitely worth that increased cost.

You cannot get more local than picking a vegetable, rinsing it off in your sink, and then eating it on your table. There was a time in our nation's history when such an act was not uncommon. Now, much of the way we make food is quite despicable; there are several good books on this topic if you are interested. (Try Wendell Berry, Barbara Kingsolver, and Michael Pollan--in that order--if you are interested.) As much as we have stigmatized dirt and farming, I trust fruits that were made in that way much more than anything I buy at the grocery store. I don't have to ask questions about ethical companies or what chemicals were sprayed that will one day give me cancer. Making food this way feels and tastes great!

Interacting with Feminism

2011-09-15T09:40:00.000-07:00

As my last post indicated, we are currently studying and applying feminist literary theory in one of my classes, although we will quickly be moving on to another school of thought. At this point, my complaint is more with the author we are reading than it is with the theory itself, although my critique would probably raise all sorts of eyebrows and refutes from at least the more extreme of feminists.

Robert Parker, in How to Interpret Literature: Critical Thoery for Literary and Cultural Studies, tells this heartwarming story in the introduction about how his students (at the University of Illinois) needed a resource that illustrates a basic understanding of the various literary theories. Thus, he wrote the book, essentially a survey of those theories. The problem is, parts of the book are much more prescriptive than they are descriptive. That is to say, he takes sides, and does it quite cheaply. Now, I have no problem with taking sides. Professors do it all the time, and so do I as a student and writer. However, Parker does it while pretending he is offering an objective survey. Some of his tactics are pretty much intellectual bullying.

In his chapter on New Criticism--of which I am no expert or devoted follower--he did lay out most of the underlying principles of the method, but also quickly labeled most of the New Critics--many of them also Southern Agrarians--as racist and sexist (with very little use of their text) to explain why he refers to them in that way.

A few chapters later, we get to feminism, which he lavishes with praise. Fine and dandy so far. He tells about how feminism has helped bring about the right to vote and own property for women, which is unarguably a good thing. But all he is doing at this point is backdooring his reader in, which is why I say he's a bully, and perhaps less than honest. He tells us feminism "is about taking women seriously and respectfully." Again, something that hardly anyone would agree with, but you have to wonder, What does it look like to take women seriously and respectfully? As is almost always the case, the semantics matter.

But eventually he works his way to the place at which he wants his readers to arrive. "Contemporary feminist theory usually sees gender as the constructed product of culture rather than the natural, inevitable product of biology and anatomy." Now, much of academia has accepted these definitions (much like it has accepted the definition of racism as racial discrimination from positions of power, essentially elininating the possibility that a minority could be racist), that sex and gender is different, and at least gender is completely culturally constructed. He, of course, keeps going, because this all progresses to the intended end, which is--ta da!--"we cannot understand sexual anatomy apart from cultural ideas about gender, which structure how we construct anatomy." So now, not just is gender constructed, but sex is also constructed. I want to fully disclose here in the name of honesty that the quote I just pulled is an analysis of what a specific feminist--Judith Butler--argued, and Parker doesn't necessarily agree with it (although it's implied).

So how is this bullying? Well, for starters he essentially claims that anyone who criticizes Feminism is just threatened by it. So basically in his world, there is no acceptable way to criticize feminism. (A pretty convenient tactic, don't you think?) Parker has also set up a binary situation in which a reader, particularly one who doesn't think very critically, thinks that to take women seriously and respectfully and to support a woman's right to vote, own property, and work in a setting of her choosing is to believe that sex and gender is completely constructed, which of course has all sorts of implications for sexuality, family, procreation, surgeries, and other very real life issues. If you do not think people really believe this, you are either not listening or not spending time with the same people I am. I taught with a woman in Jacksonville who was convinced it was wrong to call her students "boys and girls." A colleague in grad school has a sister that does not allow anyone surrounding her child to make comments that might suggest one of the traditional genders. (Can you imagine all the emotional work that will have to be done later on in order to come to grips with that person's sex and gender?)

What makes this all even more interesting is that I am both teaching and taking classes right now. In a class I teach, we make our way through Jean Twenge's Generation Me: Why Today's Young Americans are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled--and More Miserable than Ever Before in order to generate responses from students in their writing. Somehow we got onto a conversation about whether or not a woman could or should be president (even though both major political parties have very influential, some might even suggest presidential, women). I could not believe how many of my students, both male and female (it was a girl who originally made the claim), agreed with the statement that a women shouldn't be president. A very good question to consider is, what happens between zero and eighteen that leads so many of those students to believe a woman cannot be president? I supposed this view is picked up mostly from parents and families and churches, and probably more in Indiana than some other places.

The very same night in my graduate class, someone willing to challenge the notion that sex is socially-constructed rather than designed was next to impossible to find. So the next question worth considering is, what happens between eighteen and twenty-two that leads so many graduate students to believe sex is completely culturally-constructed. Now, some of that is definitely emotional; I'll concede that. College students have friends who come out of the closet; they may know someone who has changes sexes medically; they may experiment with their sexuality more than they ever have before. But I would also argue that this assumption comes out of the prevailing academic worldview. (It's not very surprising, is it, that the next unit in my class is on "Queer Studies.") These topics are important, but unfortunately they are often tactically approached by bullying: If you are not/do not believe...then you are sexist/racist/bigoted/intolerant/ignorant.

What is the alternative? Put in simple terms, one could take women seriously and respectfully, while acknowledging that sex is designed--that male and female are different--and that gender is both a manifestation of sex, while also being culturally influenced. This is the biblical view, as best as I can understand it. We are different--male and female--but neither is superior or inferior.

For example, as very broad generalizations, men tend to be physically stronger than women, and women tend to be more emotional than men. This is not to suggest that there are not exceptions. But there are scientific reasons why both of these generalizations tend to hold true. That does not mean that a man couldn't be a nurse or a woman couldn't be an excellent basketball player in her own right (those types of things are definitely culturally constructed).

You may think I am avoiding how much this possibility has been manipulated and abused. It definitely happens. How many men out there are quoting the verse about wives submitting to husbands when they want their wife to do what they want? (Those men are definitely divorcing the verse from its context, but I'll let you read the passage for yourself.) Even worse, the physical, sexual, and emotional abuse from men to women is real and disheartening. This is not to exonerate many women out there who use sex as a tool to manipulate men. My point is accepting that male and females are different can defintely be abused.

Inevitably, the next plea from the "Sex is all socially-constructed" crowd will be about hermaphodites--also called the intersexed, which are babies that come out of the womb with both or a combination of or ambiguous sexual parts. As you can imagine, life gets a lot complex for those people and their families. (The correct response for and to them is not hatred, by the way.)

But hermaphodites should also not be treated as an intellectual tool to be used on your way to bullying a point. Depending on the definitions, hermaphodites make up between zero and two percent of the populations, with most figures well under one percent. It might be a harsh way to put it, but it is a defect. If a child comes out of the womb without an arm or a leg or with too many fingers, that doesn't make arms and legs and fingers social constructs; in fact, they are still biological any way you spin it. The same goes for sexual parts. (And no, it does not help your case to tell me that worms are mostly hermaphodites.)

All this to say, there is a vision that embraces the tensions and the complexities, while also maintaining that males and females are different. Those differences are good but can and unfortunately are often abused. To paraphrase Wendell Berry (on a much different topic), it is an old question (problem) with an old answer (solution). And no, you do not have to believe sex and gender are solely socially-constructed in order to take women "seriously and respectfully."

Feminism From the Two Parkers

2011-09-13T07:40:00.000-07:00

“He called me ‘Darling’ twice. That's mine, that's mine. I have that, even if I never see him again. Oh, but that's so little. That isn't enough. Nothing's enough, if I never see him again. Please let me see him again, God” ~Dorothy Parker's main character in "A Telephone Call"

According to Robert Parker in How to Interpret Literature: Critical Theory for Literary and Cultural Studies, feminism is “an area of interest and even a commitment” rather than “a method." That commitment, according to (Robert) Parker’s definition is to “taking women seriously and respectfully." He goes on to demonstrate that feminism is multi-faceted and changes over time, but “Early feminist literary criticism…focused on what came to be called “images of women." Those images entail what women do, what is done to women, and what women write. One such example of literature to which feminist criticism can easily be applied is to Dorothy Parker’s popular short story, “A Telephone Call.”

In the “A Telephone Call,” the protagonist (and only character the reader meets directly) is a desperate woman who hopes her man will call. Her emotional state is increasingly pathetic as the short story moves forward; she prays to God that the man will call, tries out various methods to distract herself from the man, lavishes over his having called her “Darling," negotiates with God in order to get Him to make the man call, decides this dilemma is what suffering is, expresses remorse for her sins, wishes the man dead, and makes vows not to ever call the man again. It does not take extensive analysis to realize what (Dorothy) Parker has done is present an image of at least a woman, if not all women. That image is not a positive one; if (Dorothy) Parker’s image is to be taken seriously, then women are desperate, irrational, and nothing without a man. This is the sort of image that any feminist protests against.

One may be quick to point out, though, that to read this short story is not enough to label (Dorothy) Parker as anti-feminist, which is why new criticism as a method is not enough. It is possible that (Dorothy) Parker offered this story as a criticism of this sort of woman, which maybe she has observed. Maybe through her criticism she wishes to propose an alternative image for womanhood. In order to know for sure, one would need to consult (Dorothy) Parker’s other work as well as her life’s background.

*This has been adjusted from what was an academic piece. The citations have been taken out for readability, but if you have questions about where something came from, feel free to e-mail me and I will clear that up for you.

The Art and Skill of Library Whoring

2011-09-08T10:12:00.000-07:00

Last spring, I went through an epic psychological battle about whether or not I could step back into school mode and live off assistantship wages. Eventually I decided that yes, I could, but whether or not I succeed in this pursuit remains to be seen.

Like the government, I have been forced into either financially irresponsibility or really reigning in my spending. One of the ways I have tried to limit my spending is by utilizing libraries as much as possible. Back in undergrad, I was in my buying books phase. It was like a contest to see who could acquire the most and coolest books on his shelf to impress all his visitors. Went through the same thing in high school with CDs. Huge waste of money, by the way, both times. I was also that student who thought he needed to keep all his textbooks for the future, when I would refer back to them. I see so many others say the same thing. What a fiction we live in, most of the time.

I have replaced those methods with library use on steroids. Or, a metaphor I prefer: library whoring. As in, I use multiple libraries, acquire library loans when necessary, and even solicit libraries I don't have access to by asking friends who do have access to help me out. I will not reveal the identities of those people, as I wish to continue library whoring.

So far, it has been a worthwhile pursuit. My go-to library is the Anderson Public Library, which is shockingly good, and often willing to order books they don't have. From there, I try the IUPUI library. To my annoyance, one time I tried to get a book on loan and I got an e-mail back saying I could not get the book because it was a textbook and I was supposed to buy it. How ridiculous is that? Why do they care? One more reason to believe universities are just another notch in the consumptive, Capitalistic machine, I suppose.

If I cannot get a book through either of those libraries, or through loans from those libraries, I then check two others through other people. The goal, of course, is not to buy anything, even textbooks. When I get really desperate, I buy an older edition off of Amazon for like $5.

How am I doing so far? I believe in twenty-two hours worth of classes, I have had to buy two books from our bookstore, and one off of Amazon (old edition, of course). I definitely recommend library whoring for all those students out there!

Practicing Resurrection: A Sermon

2011-08-29T12:51:00.000-07:00

This past spring, I met weekly with a group at my church that we call "teaching pool." In community, we work out the meanings of scriptural texts that will be taught by one of the group members that weekend at the service. Through that group, I responded to an invitation to speak at another church that was in between pastors. So I spoke earlier in the summer and then was invited back this weekend, when I "preached" the following sermon. I have spoken from pulpets several times before, but I'll be the first to admit it is far from my primary (or secondary!) calling. Although, my "sermons" never last longer than ten minutes, so I suppose in that way I am a congregation's dream. Here is what I said on Sunday:

I want to start by telling you about a trip I took following my sophomore year of college. I voyaged with several other students and a mentor who was supervising and facilitating to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where we visited a place called The Simple Way. Planted in the heart of the inner city, the organization was founded by a tall and lanky looking man who loved to juggle, among other things. His name was Shane Claiborne, and he is the author of several books, most notably The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. It was at the Simple Way—surrounded by so many abandoned factories as a consequence to what we have cheaply termed Globalization—that I first heard the phrase “practicing resurrection.”

What does it mean to practice resurrection? Yes, the Christian faith is based on the literal resurrection of Jesus Christ. But more broadly speaking to practice resurrection is to look honestly and fully at death and to still live as if new life will come out of that death. Obviously to practice resurrection is not possible without relying on God. For Claiborne and his Simple Way, practicing resurrection had all sorts of ordinary and revolutionary implications for how they ought to live. It meant living long-term in a low-income neighborhood, trying to breathe some of their own life into it. It meant distributing pizzas to the homeless and picking up trash from the sidewalks that were likely to be littered all over the next day. It meant eating dinner together around a table with guests from the neighborhood every night. It meant rescuing perfectly good strawberries from the dumpsters of grocery stores. It meant growing plants on the roof out of an out-of-use toilet. And it meant crying out for justice on behalf of what Jesus called “the least of these” in the book of Matthew. One can see that the act of practicing resurrection is both ordinary and revolutionary at the same time, but perhaps we should not be surprised at yet one more paradox that comes out of the Gospel.

Claiborne borrowed the phrase “practicing resurrection” from a man named Wendell Berry. Berry is a hero of mine whose practicing resurrection looks much different—though still plenty ordinary and revolutionary—from Claiborne’s. Berry has written forty books in the last forty years, all handwritten and then transcribed onto a typewriter. He has refused taking on a computer because of its dependence upon oil, a resource he knows is running out. While writing on a typewriter, Berry also left a cushy and prestigious academic job in New York to return to his “home,” Kentucky, where he has farmed small enough to feed his family and perhaps some of his surrounding community. This approach despite the “get big or get out” mentality of the last fifty years of farming. Berry has also practiced resurrection by loving his wife well for more than fifty years in a world that has so deconstructed and devalued committed, monogamous marriage. Berry has practiced resurrection in dozens of other ways that I admire, not the least of which are really knowing and loving his land, and advocating for good stewardship of this world that God made. Yes, the ways Claiborne and Berry practice resurrection are so very different, and yet, so similar.

I come from a community in Anderson called The Mercy House. We are not very old; we have lived only seven years together as a church. We are still living into our vision there, but if there has been a theme so far it is the hope to resurrect a neighborhood that has experienced the death of crime, economic disparity, unemployment, fatherlessness, poor education, and so many other ills. Some of the ways in which our body has tried to practice resurrection are by initiating a men’s transitional house for guys who struggle with addiction or who are coming out of prison, hosting an after school program for mostly African American students, opening a boxing gym for a demographic haunted by obesity, and starting a bicycle collective to encourage cheaper and more environmentally responsible transport in our struggling city.

I’d be lying if I did not express that those efforts have not brought us much stress, frustration, and disappointment. A lifestyle of practicing resurrection will always include that struggle, and if you want more evidence of that, read though Paul’s New Testament letters, some of which were written from prison. Again and again, he warns us that we will suffer. He also says that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Indeed the forces of sin and death are so very real, as we are told in Romans. Surely to follow Jesus will also require some rejection as we embrace a lifestyle that runs counter to the cultural norm. Community activist and prolific author John Perkins has said that if you really want to see positive change in a neighborhood, put about ten or fifteen years of hard work into it, and then you may begin to live and experience more life in that community. We have known that struggle at the Mercy House in Anderson. But amidst those frustrations, we have also seen enough moments—glimpses of hope, reconciliation, and life regained—to keep us pressing forward. In a word: we have seen resurrection, albeit not in its fullness or completion. But nonetheless, where there was death before, we have found new life. You may think this is all well and good, but where, besides Paul’s letter, is this idea rooted in Scripture?

I would like to suggest that this idea and lifestyle of resurrection is everywhere, starting in the Garden of Eden where God made the earth, the animals, and people out of nothingness. Of course, the central resurrection was a literal one, that of Jesus defeating death in order to give us life. But it would be easy to overlook here one of my favorite Old Testament stories, which I think is quite relevant for us this morning. I will be reading out of the New Revised Standard Version. To provide some context, our best guess is that the reader and narrator of this passage is a priest in exile with the same name as the book itself and perhaps a few editors that followed after him.

(*Read Ezekiel 37:1-14*)

I would love for the meaning of this and all biblical text to be self-evident, but I must admit that it is my understanding that “the people of Israel” is to be understood as literal in the sense that ancient Israelis and modern Jews are certainly included within God’s promise for resurrection, but also symbolic in that they are not the only ones included.

If we’re honest this story seems mythical, a fairy tale maybe. But a basic fundamental assumption from which to base your life? Sounds scary. What if we’re wrong? What if we’re crazy? What if we really should just take what we can get, follow in line with whatever the cultural finger-to-the wind is today?

Death brings a lot of things, but one of them is pain. With Kingdom living, we will have to face death in order to conquer it. With all the years that are represented in this room, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you too much about death. You have almost undoubtedly lost lives around you that were important, lives you even depended upon. You probably felt let down after those deaths. You probably felt unspeakable pain and loss. We are going to see in a moment, and perhaps it should not surprise us, that some of Jesus’ followers felt the same way after His death. When we are truly confronted by death, it can understandably become difficult to believe again in new life. It is painful, even, to believe in that new life, because we know to practice resurrection is to risk more death.

To practice resurrection is to live against the cultural stream, to clash with empirical Enlightenment thinking. Especially in light of this story in Ezekiel we may be tempted as self-righteous Modern and Postmodern people to think that the people back in Jesus’ day and before were simply too primitive to understand that people (and other forms of life) don’t rise from the dead, that death is final. But New Testament Scholar N.T. Wright makes it clear that this isn’t the case. People back in Jesus' day knew the idea of resurrection was counter to the laws of nature, which is why its possibility is so revolutionary. Make no mistake: practicing resurrection will be difficult to maintain, and it surely was back then, too. We pick up here after Jesus’ resurrection, but before all the disciples have seen it. Like so many of us probably would have been, Thomas is less than convinced that someone who has been dead could actually come to life again.

(*Read John20:19-29*)

In today’s world, Thomas would probably make a great scientific researcher. Perhaps a professor. We would describe his approach with words like “rational,” “logical,” and “empirical.” His work would probably get promulgated in the New York Times, cited by the New Atheists in their popular books. Because Thomas’s assumption here is not too different from there’s. To see is to believe. Truth is quantifiable. I want to be clear that those methods have a place; they are not evil. Truthfully, I’m a lot like Thomas. If Jesus was not a verifiable character of history, He would be a lot less appealing to me. But Jesus draws a distinction in this passage. Those who do not see and yet believe are more blessed. That is to say, those who practice resurrection, those who live into it without fully realizing it.

We must do better than Enlightenment methods. Better for Anderson and better for Frankton. Better for my family and yours. Better for war-torn refugees and better for the homeless. Better for this neighborhood. Because if we wait for quantifiable evidence of resurrection, we will probably miss most of the people we were supposed to love along the way.

But let’s not leave here without fully making the connections. What has it, what does it, and what will it look like to practice resurrection, here at East Side Christian Church in Frankfurt, Indiana? The last time I was here, you were without a pastor, in a season of desert and discernment. If my understanding is correct, a pastor has been hired and is on his way. That is fresh and exciting; surely there is some hope for stability with more consistent leadership so you don’t have to bring amateurs like myself over to speak.

But as you live into new leadership, do not close your eyes to the sin and death that is around you. What relationships have been broken? What patterns are unhealthy? What behaviors are harmful? What territories are yet to be explored? Where are hearts that are less than fully alive? What bones need breathed into?

Because it is in those places that you have chances to practice resurrection with boldness and hope. It is certainly my prayer for all of you that those places will be identified and resurrected through the life that God gives in this church.

Needs, Desires, and Pain: Keys to Being Fully Alive?

2011-08-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

"The fact is, at this point in our journey, we have only three options: (1) to be alive and thirsty, (2) to be dead, or (3) to be addicted. There are no other choices. Most of the world lives in addiction; most of the church has chosen deadness."
~John Eldredge, The Journey of Desire

"Life is a journey of the heart that requires the mind--not the other way around."
~Eldredge, The Journey of Desire

I think I have mentioned before on here that when I first read John Eldredge--I picked up Wild at Heart in college--it struck me as a big youth group cliche. The man as warrior and all that rah rah stuff. I wasn't sure what being the main character of Braveheart had to do with Jesus's Gospel of peace. I should also admit that part of me wants to be dismissive of Eldredge's connections to Focus on the Family, a politically-charged organization often associated with the Christian right. (I'll confess here that most of my perception comes from their reputation--which is probably largely driven by the media--than it is from any sort of personal experience I've had with the organization.)

But that is all the heady part of me speaking. I have read several of his other books since college, the topics spanning from gender and sexuality to the outdoors and interacting with God the Creator. I recently read his The Journey of Desire, and am beginning to see him in a different way. It may be his most important work, and it seems that Eldredge's macro, holistic theme is that of living "fully alive," a state we witness in so few of the people around us (myself definitely included!).

Out of Eldredge's work, the curriculum of Men's Fraternity, some one-on-one work with a mentor, and my current relationship with a woman, I am coming to see that becoming fully alive requires us to be in touch with how we feel, that is to say our needs, our desires, and our pain. And as we become aware of those things within ourselves, we become more aware of them in others, which allows to empathize and press on "further and deeper in" to intimacy. This is not a cheap formula for relating well to people; it is only an invitation to enter in. Our differing needs, desires, and wounds often clash, leading to the inevitable pain that comes with intimacy, which is why withdrawing seems so compelling to us, once again as a protective instinct.

I must confess that I am light years away from living any of this out well in my own life. My instinct is still to withdraw when things get hard relationally, and answering the question How are you? is extremely difficult because if I'm really answer, the answer most of the time is, "I don't know." Mostly, I just identify with the U2 song: "I feel numb / I feel numb / Give me some more."

This numbness is common--it's a response to our pain, of course--but no less devestating to human experience. If we cut off pain, we probably eliminate the possibility for joy, and this life becomes an exercise in endurance, survivial, mere existance, and "getting things done." We replace desire with duty. If I'm honest, I know "duty" much better than I know "desire."

Why not just accept this? Why not just resign ourselves to a life of endurance and duty. The truth is, most people do. But it is my hope that doing this painful work to undo unhealthy patterns will bring life more meaning, joy, and lasting companionship. I would be remiss if I did not also mention the implications of God here. If all there is in this life is drudgery, what does that say about the Creature who made us? But on the other hand, if there really is an "abundant life," (don't read "wealth" here, but rather "wholeness") we are dishonest not to acknowledge the author of that life.

Assumptions About Credibility in Academia

2011-08-21T14:41:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I asked a man--PhD, published author, teacher in various venues, mentor of many people of influence, commonly-asked speaker--I deeply respected why he had never taken on a full-time professorship. Surely, he had chances, I reasoned, and he confirmed that I was correct. In his answer, he said something I'll never forget. Yes, he had received offers, but that out of his fear of becoming disconnected from the realities of work and world, he had oriented his vocation away from academia.

Yesterday, I was sitting in workshops for English faculty in anticipation of the incoming IUPUI students this week. One of my sessions focused on the use of sources in writing and the other on revision, both important topics, obviously. We were warned that our students might fall for the "fools' gold" of a website like http://www.martinlutherking.org/, a site run and updated by a white supremacy group. But as we got to work, both sessions turned into much of the same: slight disagreements about semantics, which basically eliminated the possibility for any possible output from the meetings. That is to say, we did what academics do: we argued. Little consensus was formed.

But if there was a stream of thought that connected both sessions, it was the assumption that a better source is a more academic one and a better paper is revised to become more academic. (For all the "tolerance" academics espouse, we do not seem to be very "tolerant" in this regard.) Before I get to my criticism, let me say that there is definitely something to be said about going to "experts" for information about a topic (although more access does not necessarily even indicate more accurate analysis). And the process of peer review is definitely a good practice. Even in this world of social media and Internet democracy, all sources, arguments, and papers are not created equally. This much is true.

But still I question the notion that a better source equals a more academic source. Just because a researcher or a professor holes himself up in a library and reads every quantitative study about making policy, does that mean he knows politics better than a, for example, governor? Does the academic who reads every newspaper article know more about journalism than a journalist? Does the one who publishes about business know better than a CEO? I'm sure you see what I'm getting at. Academics, in our pursuit for what we think is "perfection" (or something like it), we often isolate ourselves from the very world we study. And if we think that isolation does anything but skew our conclusions, we are mistaken. Insofar as there is vast differences in ideology between academia and "the rest of the world," I imagine that pride about how "intelligent" we are should be flipped into a concern about how detached we are from the realities of the world.

From a more technical standpoint, in any inquiry--academic or otherwise--we start from assumptions, and we finish our work by "leaping" to conclusions. No one can stick fully to "the facts." So even if our rational or quantitative data is flawless in the middle--definitely a rarity--our viewpoint is still limited, far from perfect. We cannot escape that humility, no matter what professorship we're offered, books we publish, or reputation we develop.

To be clear, I do not write all this to suggest that academia is irrelevant or unnecessary. It has a place. But that's what it deserves, no more or less. A place. A seat at the table. An opinion to be considered. In the "what is acceptable" conversation about sources and writing and revision, purpose also deserves mention. It is not that Twitter is less valid than an academic journal. It is just a different venue. You don't use them for the same thing. Same could be said (or taught in a class) about blogs or popular media or Wikipedia. Some of these things can be used as good "launching points" for papers or other projects. Purpose is also important to consider about revision. How much we revise definitely depends on what we're writing. (To see a good reflection on revision, go here.) If it's a book, tons of revision will be necessary. If it's an article due tomorrow, probably not so much. An academic paper? Hopefully somewhere in between.

The reasons we could not find consensus about revision or what sources were helpful is that there are no cheap answers. It's messy, not black-and-white. Even if I were to interact with the King website, perhaps to make a point about white supremacy or to offer a criticism or whatever, it could be a valid "source." The answer is in how we use a source, not whether we use it. Academics would do well to heed the advice from Montaigne, a French philosopher who warned us in his "The Art of Discussion" that we should evaluate arguments based on their merit, not on who made the argument. And I should add, to Montaigne's critique, that not only should we consider the merits of the argument, but perhaps out of what human experience that argument came.

Last Friday Night: Learning from Katy Perry

2011-08-14T14:25:00.000-07:00

"There's a stranger in my bed,
There's a pounding in my head
Glitter all over the room
Pink flamingos in the pool
I smell like a minibar
DJ's pass out in the yard
Barbie's on the barbecue
Is this a hickie or a bruise
Pictures of last night
Ended up online
I'm screwed
Oh well
It's a blacked out blur
But I'm pretty sure it ruled"
~Katy Perry, "Last Friday Night"

I must admit to a slight guilty pleasure in the catchiness of Katy Perry songs, though I certainly wouldn't defend her musical genius or her moral compass. I do think it's true that artistry of any kind, but certainly that which leads to celebrity, is often one of the best platforms for either resisting mainstream culture or in revealing it. I think Perry's recent hit single reveals it. She is simply calling "it" as "it" is.

During my two years in TFA, what Perry describes in this song was sometimes (often?) not too far from the reality. "We work hard and play hard," some bragged. Saturday mornings were full of "war stories" from the night before. So-and-so slept next to a highway, so-and-so 2 slept with so-and-so 3. So-and-so 4 danced on the poll; so-and-so 5 got kicked out of the bar. So-and-so 6 got a DUI. Not too far from the fraternity world, really. Certainly this world isn't the universal experience of single people in their twenties, but it's also not too far from the norm either for many.

Let me be clear in criticism that I have been implicated in this sort of behavior myself. I've drank myself sick a few times, kissed a girl or two I had no intention of calling, and even stepped up on a bar table at the end of the night on occasion. Like everyone else, I "fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). But every time I exhibit behavior anywhere close to what Perry's song describes, I feel miserable, both physically and psychologically. Eventually, we wake up with the mess and have to try to clean it up. I'm not sure we can live like this and not feel miserable, unless there is a conscious effort to shut the voice of conscience off. It is all a really desperate attempt to escape the realities of real life or to grab some attention or take a girl home to bed.

Let me also disclaim that I think there is place for celebration and adventure--which can include good food and drink and dancing--to be integrated into our lives. An honest reader of the New Testament has to conclude that it seems like Jesus enjoyed--and even organized and prolonged--such celebrations. But it is my conviction that authentic celebration maintains healthy relationships with food and alcohol and the friends we party with and even the people to whom we are sexually attracted.

I don't pretend to know the personal details of Perry's life, but if it's anything like this song describes it seems to me an obvious rebellion against how she was raised, that is, in a rigid "Christian" environment that tried to completely separate from the "secular" world. (Her music career started in the "Christian music" industry under her original name, Katy Hudson.) Neither extreme is all that appealing or life-giving.

I think what is perhaps most disturbing about the song "Last Friday Night" is not so much the description about last Friday night, but the expectation that "This Friday night / (we will) Do it all again / Do it all again." There is a stagnant attitude there, as if we are fated to our debauchery (or on the other end, to our religious rigidity). Like so many mainstream movies, Perry glorifies this culture, even though my own experience in it, if I'm honest, reveals that it is dominated by loneliness, disappointment, and misery. I'm not sure it can be any other way.

Public or Private = Missing the Point

2011-08-12T10:35:00.000-07:00

See the secret committees, commence with their meetings
To make red tape in response to simple questions
Questions threaten the perception of the beneficial systems
A pyramid scheme with its cogs and its pistons
Mechanization of men, making more and more
Live in a miserable existence
How can so few claim so many victims
And this begs the question
My rest is a weapon against the oppression
Of man's obsession to control things
Look at the long line of make-believe kings
The lord of the flies wants you to kiss his ring
Follow new rules with invisible strings
And become a puppet in the diabolical scheme
How do good men become part of the regime
They don't believe in resistance
~Josh Garrels, "Resistance"

The other day, I was sitting in an initial orientation meeting for writing teachers at IUPUI, and the subject of parking passes came up. It surfaced that IUPUI had outsourced--privatized--the role, which drew predictable resentment from some of the teachers in the room who prefer "public options." "No one is ever responsible," quipped one female teacher. "You always get referred to someone else, and they don't know the answer either."

Parking at IUPUI is limited and expensive, and I found out the extensiveness of the exploitation later that day when a worker I don't know--sitting on the other side of a desk--slapped me emotionlessly with a $95 parking pass for the next three months. I am scraping by financially, but I'm also aware that my situation is probably much better than so many of the other students who were being charged the same ridiculous price.

Then, as I sat through the meeting, it became apparent that the public university with which I am employed has the same problem as the woman diagnosed as the result of privatization. About a dozen of us were gathered--most of us for the first time--to have logistical and content questions answered, hopefully relieving some of the uncertain anxiety welling inside us. But no such relief came. Question after question went deferred, unanswered, or answered only in part. Often, we were told someone else would have the answer, and that we would be e-mailed the correct protocol for whatever specific procedure was at stake.

I do not blame the facilitator; I blame the structure and scale. Debating private or public is an attempt to answer the wrong question. When we accept massive, centralized, and hierarchical structures then we inevitably run into endless confusion and red tape. Bureaucracy is probably the best word for it, and while some of it is inevitable in this life, we certainly don't need as much as we have. In bureaucracies, no one accepts responsibility. Exploitation becomes the norm because there are wide gaps between producers and sellers and buyers. Chances are, these people don't know each other. In the context of a university, the gaps are between administrators, faculty, staff, and students. Think about your experiences with your local BMV as another relevant example.

Is there a better alternative? Yes. I have cried out for it on this blog again and again. Wendell Berry has been writing about it for fifty years. Thomas Jefferson wrote about it a couple hundred years ago. There are others. If there were only two broad themes in the work of John Milton, they would probably have been pleas for both freedom and for virtuous living. I'm not sure we can do without those two things if we are to live worthwhile lives.

So the better alternative is thinking in terms of neighborhoods. "All politics is local," Congressman Tip O'Neil once said. It is not an accident that you'd rather go to the local mom and pop restaurant than Applebees. Nor is it an accident that you trust the local bank more than the Bank of America. Or that you get better produce at the farmer's market than you do at Kroger's. Better service from Dave's Auto in Anderson than you do at Jiffy Lube. Or that movements that create lasting change start at the grassroots.

When Christ told us to love, He told us to love God and our neighbor. This does not mean we don't care for the person on the opposite coast or on a different continent. It just means as human beings we have considerable limits. And it means real expressions of love are tangible, not theoretical.

Maybe if we were more worried about feeding, ensuring, and educating our neighbors and less concerned about doing all those things for everyone--a well-intended but drastically misguided notion--I imagine we would have much better results. And perhaps we might even know our neighbors, instead of averting our eyes every time we see them because we are too busy to engage them as something other than a political issue.

Woundedness in Walcott's Omeros

2011-08-11T13:16:00.000-07:00

A pretty simple, dichotomized “story” is often told in light of inequitable social structures. There are the powerful oppressors, the wounders, and the weak oppressed, the wounded. While conceding small bits of truth from broad categorization, Derek Walcott tells a more complex, nuanced tale in his contemporary epic poem, Omeros, while trying, as Dr. David Hoegberg describes in his article “Unstable Identities,” to dwell in the “tension between the drive to universalize guilt, and the drive to make specific moral accusations.” Put more simply, everyone—and perhaps everything—is in pain, broken to some extent. This woundedness comes from different sources: physical injuries, psychological distress, economic exploitation, racial prejudice, and others. But a general woundedness is universal in Walcott’s poem.

One of the beautiful characteristics of Walcott’s poetry is the way he personifies so much of the natural world. For him, “the dripping tendrils / of an octopus wrung its hand in laughter” and “Night was fanning its coalpot / from one catching star.” But one of Walcott’s purposes in personifying nature is to show that it—and not just humans—is wounded. Hoegberg, in “The Anarchist’s Mirror: Walcott’s Omeros and the Epic Tradition,” claims that Walcott writes with “ecological consciousness.” From the opening chapter of the book, those who cut down trees are called “murderers.” A gash in a tree is described as a “wound.” Later, Walcott describes Achilles’ “hands gloved in blood” after a big fishing catch on the water, insinuating that his trade was violent, than wounding fish for profit was less than honorable.

But Walcott’s pointing out nature’s woundedness does not to devalue human life and experience. Despite his own Caribbean background and the sympathies that have resulted from his upbringing, his fair thoughtfulness shines through in his characters, all of which seems to demonstrate some sort of woundedness. If a reader were to assume Walcott “took sides,” he or she would peg him on the opposite side of the character named Plunkett, a Caucasian master who employs workers with African descent on his pig farm for minimal payment. But Walcott does not hold back Plunkett’s own woundedness, which explains some of his behavior as a character. Plunkett is a British World War II veteran who retired with his wife to

St. Lucia

. “They’d been out here / since the war and his wound,” Walcott writes. Like other Western transplants, “their poverty (was) my paradise,” as is said later in the book. Plunkett’s woundedness is not solely physical, however. “What was it all for?” the narrator asks about the war, insinuating that Plunkett had been exploited before he ever chose to exploit. “A bagpipe’s screech and a rag,” is the answer. Plunkett’s marriage also declines as he is far way from his native land in Europe.

Lest Walcott be deemed a traitor or solely a Western sympathizer for the complexities evident in his Western characters, Hoegberg asks, “How, then, can a poet develop an international consciousness that includes European culture without betraying ‘his people’ and their struggle?” So on the other end of the traditional dichotomy is the native, Philoctete, a native whose name was an ironic allusion to a minor character in Homer’s The Iliad. Philoctete was also—predictably—wounded. And like Plunkett, his woundedness was both physical and psychological. Walcott writes, poignantly: “He believed the swelling came from the chained ankles / of his grandfathers. Or else why was there no cure? / That the cross he carried was not only the anchor’s / but that of his race, for a village black and poor / as the pigs that rooted in its burning garbage.” Hoegberg adds that characters like Philoctete “do not have the choice of direct rebellion,” which was not a very hopeful reality in which to live. He and other natives “endured the decimation / of their tribe without uttering a syllable.”

Walcott’s Omeros is not shy about illuminating moral injustices, but still manages to avoid simplistic finger-pointing categories of sole oppressors and complete victims. There are other examples throughout the epic poem, but Plunkett and Philoctete are two of the more obvious extremes. Hoegberg points out that Walcott, like Virgil “prefer(s) to look forward with hope.” He adds that “Violent reconquest is not the best response to European crimes.” What is the best response, though? That question would require its own study, but Walcott offers little clues throughout his work of his hope for non-violence and equity, localized rule, and surviving off of, rather than the exploitation of, the land.

***This piece has been adapted from an academic essay I wrote. Citations have been removed for readability. If you are interested in where I found something, send me an e-mail and I'll gladly tell you!

A Pattern of Detachment

2011-08-05T06:58:00.000-07:00

Last night, I walked out of a particularly challenging graduate class for the last time. All assignments turned in, final presentation complete, no more readings to pump out. I was slightly relieved, but there was no joy. I had taken on something that was probably a bit over my head considering my lack of background knowledge on the subject matter and also the reality of taking a graduate class while pretty much full-time. I expected some joy in completion, but did not feel it as I printed my final paper, or even as I walked out of the classroom for the final time. There was some slight relief that it was over, a knowledge that my grade would probably be okay, and the conviction that perhaps I had not done my best work.

What bothered me was how familiar the feeling was. I knew it after certain athletic seasons. I felt it after my first year of teaching. I felt it after certain relationships with girls ended. And I knew it certain times when I have moved from one place to the other. One of my younger sisters once told me that I was the most detached member of the family.

For whatever reasons, this has been one of the biggest realizations I have had this year. I never could have imagined how pervasive this is in my life. I have speculated about why this is, and I have a few answers (mostly stemming from family systems and broken relationships with girls), but I am looking for more. Obviously, I am not the only person to detach emotionally; it is common particularly among men. But I think it is a response to cover up and avoid pain. To escape the messiness of intimacy. One of the things I have often said is, "It's not complicated." And from my vantage point of detachment, whatever "it" is, usually isn't complicated.

But the problem with this way of living is that I don't have joy or a sense of accomplishment when I walk out of a class because I have detached and endured long before. We cannot turn these things on and off as we please. I don't cry through funerals. Weddings hardly affect me. Little moves me, if I'm honest. I hate the question, "How are you?" because I don't know the answer. I say I'm fine, like most other detached people do.

There are certainly people on the other end of the spectrum. Sometimes these people get described as dramatic or hysterical or codependent. I am not glorifying that; neither extreme is where we want to be. I recall a conversation a few months ago about which is more important, reason or emotion? I think the answer is both. I'm seeing a band play this weekend called The Head and the Heart. I don't know much about their music (my friends do, though), admittedly, but I think they're onto something with their name. Healthy living is when the head and the heart--reason and emotion--are connected. We were created with both; it's not accidental.

But how do we break out of this? How do we find our way back out of mere existence to a more fully alive life?

Two Classes In: A Reflection on Graduate School (and Teaching)

2011-07-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

"So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel? You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends.' But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms 'visiting hours' don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you...I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you."
~Sean, Good Will Hunting

"Grade inflation is on our side," a good friend of mine told me--assuring me of my readiness--a few months ago before I started a Master of Arts program in English at IUPUI. She was and is in the midst of finishing a master's in social at work at UPenn and contemplating following that up with law school. She is just one of many of my peers who have returned to school in this shit economy after a few years in the professional world. Wendell Berry's words on the topic were even stronger; he has called university "diploma factories."

Currently, I am three class sessions and a fifteen-page paper away from being eight credits into my degree program. Given the nature of summer classes, it has been quick and full. For example, this last class, we have flown through classic works like Homer's The Iliad, Virgil's The Aeneid, Dante's The Divine Comedy, and Milton's Paradise Lost. I've been grateful for the forced opportunity to tackle such classics, which deal with so many of the essential cosmic questions about God and purpose and governance, but at the same time reading them individually in a week's time and turning around an intelligible response has been daunting, especially given that so much of my own reading--outside of the Bible--has been contemporary literature.

IUPUI is a commuter school, which gets tacked on to an educational experience that includes a rural public elementary and middle school, a boarding high school, a faith-based, private university, and teaching and administrative work in inner city schools, so it is always interesting to explore what the vast differences are. One of the tragedies of my current setting is the possibility for earning grades in courses without knowing people in even the most surface-level of ways. Sure, my professors and students hear me throw out intellectual ideas in response to texts we read. That doesn't mean they know me, and I sure as hell don't know them. The commuter environment almost completely strips community--the best context for learning, in my opinion--away from education. Still, we trudge on for professional reasons, the hope that our degree will one day help us get a job we enjoy. It's a good desire, a good telos, but the method is a little problematic.

It's really hard not to just play the game. Skim the readings, cherry pick a few quotes, slide them into a semi-coherent argument, collect the grade like a paycheck. Sometimes I don't have any other options, if I am to meet the rest of my responsibilities as a person. How can I hold on to some sort of integrity? How do I ensure that this doesn't become solely an exercise in endurance? A friend and former colleague of mine offered this answer: "Chris, it's not about the marks, it's about your own development for your future." I trust that he is correct.

And I am still forced to contemplate the quantity verses quality of the work I'll someday assign when I teach again. Sure, we want rigor, but I think we also need reasonable work loads in order to engage most effectively. I'll get my chance next month, as I'll be teaching two three-hour freshmen writing courses after a year off from teaching. I look forward to beginning anew with a fresh perspective on life, the content, and teaching in general.

Political Perceptions and Inconvenient Realities in Contemporary American Politics

2011-07-27T07:58:00.000-07:00

I work part-time for a local government agency that does planning advisory and environmental outreach work (rather than the policy-making and election-winning work that much of government is known for). A few of my colleagues returned from a conference a few months ago, and one of the messages they had received from a particular session was the importance of "getting there first." What the phrase meant was being the first ones to message a particular agenda to the public. It struck me as one of the most universal rules of modern politics, particularly as it relates to political parties.

It seems obvious to me that both major United States' political parties have "gotten there first" on particular messages, and as a result tend to benefit from a particular reputation--often undeserved--that swings voters over to their side. Let me give you a few examples to show you what I mean.

The Republicans are known as the more fiscally conservative (and responsible) party. While there might be slight kernels of truth in that reputation, mostly it has been the result of clever messaging. Most Republican congressmen (and women) seek as much legislative pork for their district as the next person does. One of my colleagues at work always laments the Farm Bill, which subsidizes billions and billions of dollars to farmers. For all of (local Congressmen) Mike Pence's fiscal conservatism rhetoric, you sure don't hear him crying out against the Farm Bill much. Why? Because it would take money away from his constituents, which could jeopardize his reelection (his real aim as a politician). Another prime example of the Republicans' lack of true commitment to fiscal responsibility is George W. Bush's eight-year presidency. During that time span, the U.S. government size and spending increased more than any other presidential administration during our history (to be fair, Obama's Administration will surely surpass Bush's in this area if he gets eight years). But what does this say about the financial realities of the Republican party? The only conclusion I can draw is that they are no more committed to spending less or equal to what it takes in than is the Democratic party; the Republicans have just done mostly won the rhetorical battle.

But this post is not about bashing Republicans. The Democrats have sent just as many messages that don't line up with realities as the Republicans have. One of the most obvious is the way in which they have convinced so many Americans that they are the more peaceful party as it relates to foreign policy. Remember how much Democrats vilified Bush for Iraq? What they always forgot to mention was how Congress--filled with Democrats--voted almost unanimously to authorize Bush to lead the effort in Iraq. Remember the Democratic presidential debates before the 2008 election? It was like a contest to see who can make the most outlandish comments about withdrawing from Afghanistan and Iraq. Well, since Obama was elected, we've escalated in Afghanistan and Pakistan, we're newly involved in Libya, and oh yeah, we're still very present in Iraq. Iran and North Korea still hate us, and so does Venezuela. How's all that peaceful diplomacy working for you, President Obama? But it's not just about bashing Obama. The history of the Democratic Party shows as much warmongering as the Republican Party. During the Vietnam War, for example, no less than two out of the four U.S. presidents with a major decision-making role were Democrats. The war ended during a Republican administration. How about the World War II? Last I checked, it was a Democratic president who pulled the lever for the atomic bombs that were dropped on Japan. I could go on and on. The Democrats are no more peaceful than Republicans.

These issues--fiscal responsibility and foreign diplomacy--are only two of the many areas in which one party has out-messaged the other in a particular area. We are bombarded with messages about Republicans being more oriented toward family values. Democrats as "the party of the poor." Republicans keep us safer. Democrats care more about the environment. Blah blah blah. If I had more time, I'd try to debunk those claims, too. More often than not, the perception does not align with the reality. I've always loved the way my older brother characterizes the two major parties: "the Republicrats." Big government and big business are pretty much one entity: the rich and the powerful. There are exceptions, of course; I do not want to over-simplify too much. But as an overall trend, the main things both parties care about go hand in hand: getting elected and "getting there first."

Grateful for the Rain

2011-07-24T12:13:00.000-07:00

Like so many other things, I often take rain for granted and barely notice when it does or doesn't happen, unless it inconveniences me in some way. But in case you haven't been watching the national headlines lately, the Midwest has been unbearably hot for a couple weeks. The heat has been coupled with a lack of rain, which has unnerved everyone, most notably the farmers. That I currently live and work on a farm has me more aware than usual of precipitation patterns. But we are not the only ones affected.

This morning at church, I was talking to a friend who runs a lawn-mowing business in the summer. He hasn't worked in two weeks because everyone's lawn is scorched, stunted, and browning. He said even commercial sites have not needed anything because in this economy they haven't been spending money on sprinkler systems. Needless to say, he was a little anxious about paying his family's upcoming bills.

That others depend on the farmers for food production was one more reminder of how needy we are as people, dependent on the Divine, nature, and other humans. Because I--like so many others--am so prone to believing the illusion of my own control, it is a painful but necessary realization. It is humbling to understand how fragile we really are, how something like water--when taken away--can have drastic effects on our well-being. It is one of the great human paradoxes that our capacity is both great and deeply limited.

Throughout a sweaty service, we continued in on our study of the book of Genesis. In several instances throughout the Bible's beginning, the people of God find themselves in a famine. In the midst of those situations, people become desperate, doing crazy things like pretending wives are sisters (multiple times) in exchange for food access. As a church body, we prayed for rain, which was in the forecast. (Now before a reader goes there--It didn't rain because you prayed for it, you idiot!--the point of this post is hardly about the answerability* of prayer.) And sure enough, by the afternoon, huge droplets of rain pelted cars, roofs, and pavement.

As I drove through what could only be described as violent rain--my black Chevy Cobalt hydroplaning in spots--I experienced a grateful joy I have never before known from seeing and hearing rain, in part because I have never been as aware of the need and also in part because this particular need was greater than usual. What I felt was something like awe. And I knew that it was not only I that celebrated, but other local farmers, my lawn-mowing friend, food consumers, the grass in the meadows, and crops in the field, all shouting a unified Thanks! Nature's systems can seem so simple at times, and they're easy to overlook, but how deeply complex and gratifying it all really is.

*I realize this is not actually a word in the English language. But it should be!

War and Peace in The Odyssey

2011-07-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

Upon first glance, it might be tempting for a reader to dismiss Homer’s work—including The Odyssey—as primitive and war-crazed. A closer look, however, reveals a more complex and nuanced view and perhaps even a critique of the Greek Code of Honor that served as a perpetual instigation of a masculine competitive mindset, often starting and sustaining violence and war. Homer, particularly through the character development of Odysseus, reveals some of the problems with such a lifestyle and perhaps even points toward a different way. In particular, three events—Odysseus’s interaction with the Phaiakians, his encounter with the Cyclops, and Odysseus’s winning back of Penelope at the end—serve as hints at what Homer is trying to say about living peacefully.

Those who have read The Iliad know that Odysseus is a warrior from the Trojan War. His reputation as a skilled competitor and soldier precede him; he is called a “sacker of cities,” “great-hearted,” and “like the immortal." While Odysseus is definitely not free of Code of Honor expectations in either epic, the reader sees that the epic’s protagonist at least seems to be wrestling with the code and its implications, particularly during an incident with the Phaiakians. After they feast together, Odysseus is invited into athletic competition by on of his hosts: “Try these contests, if you have skill in any. It beseems you to know athletics, for there is no greater glory that can befall a man’s living..." But a thoughtful Odysseus, still somewhat fresh off of the brutality of war, initially refuses, saying, “Cares are more in my mind than games are, who before this have suffered much and had many hardships, and sit here now in the middle of your assembly, longing to go home."

But mindsets and habit do not die quickly, and Odysseus is no exception to that rule. All it took to change his attitude was a little appeal to his pride. “You do not resemble and athlete," Euryalos teases. Having been raised into a Code of Honor that glorifies triumphant men in such situations, this mockery “stirred up anger deep in the breast within (Odysseus)." He responded by out-throwing his competitors in the discuss and declaring, “Now reach me that mark, young men, and then I will make another throw, as great as this, I think, or one even better. Let any of the rest, whose heart and spirit are urgent for it, come up and try me, since you have irritated me so, either at boxing or wrestling or in a foot raise..." After this incident, it is apparent that the pride of the Code of Honor still drives him, particularly when he is challenged.

In the very next book of the epic, that same aggressive quality leads Odysseus to break the Greek Code of Hospitality. His hosts in this episode are, as Odysseus describes them, “the lawless outrageous Cyclopes who, putting all their trust in the immortal gods, neither plow with their hands or plant anything." But Odysseus’s seeming respect for the civilized agricultural life does nothing to prevent him from entering one of the caves of this fringe group, inviting his companions in to build a fire and enjoy the Cyclops’ cheese, all without any sort of invitation and against the advice of his friends. Indeed, the host was not even present when Odysseus and his followers entered. It is quite possible that Homer is making a point about how certain people groups are treated and how this behavior is rationalized by the Code of Honor. Interestingly, the justice Homer chooses in this instance sides with the Cyclops, as the god Poseidon honors Polyphemos’s prayer that Odysseus would “come (home) late, in bad case, with the loss of all his companions, in someone else’s ship, and find troubles in his household."

These two incidents are two of the more obvious ones in which Homer plays with the various expectations about the Code of Honor, competition, and war-like mentalities. But he works his protagonist toward an end in which Odysseus’s brash toughness will not be enough to win back his long-estranged wife, Penelope, away from her many suitors. After Penelope announces that whichever suitor wins an archery contest, Odysseus, having arrived back in Ithaka, predictably wins and then, with the help of Telemachos, Athena, and others, kills the suitors. But these competitive and warlike acts are not enough to win Penelope, which is at least how Homer embraces the tension between war and peace, if not completely landing on the side of a more civilized, peaceful lifestyle. Penelope, “her knees and the heart within her went slack," does not embrace Odysseus until he offers recognition of and demands the bed “with the hole of an olive tree, which he made with his own hands. It is there, as the craftsman, that Odysseus is irresistible to his wife.

It is too simple to say that Homer has written—in The Iliad and The Odyssey—anti- or, much less, pro-war epics. But what is clear with close analysis is that he was definitely saying something about the societal structure that led men in particular to regular violence. From the aforementioned examples and others, it seems that Homer at least questioned whether there might be a better way to live.

***This piece has been adjusted from an academic piece I wrote. The citations have been taken out for better reader flow, but if you want to know exact publications or page numbers, shoot me an e-mail, and I'll gladly let you know where I got certain quotes.

Involvement From the Gods in The Iliad

2011-07-20T10:30:00.000-07:00

If there is a God, how much does he/she/it drive human experience? Or does this God leave his/her/its creation mostly alone, allowing humans and nature an essentially free state? How much power does God have? Can God’s mind be changed through petitions of prayer? Does God have favorites? Does he/she/it take sides? Does God have a will that his creation is inevitably working its way toward? These questions could easily be found in modern discourses among Muslims, Jews, or Christians, or even New Age spiritualists. But these questions are perennial, as evidenced by Homer’s The Iliad, from the culture and context of Greek mythology. As Seth Schein writes in his introduction to W.H.D. Rouse’s translation of The Iliad, the epic poem is part of a collection of works that comprise “a kind of poetic and mythological history of the cosmos." Schein adds that “The overwhelming fact of life for the humans in The Iliad is their mortality, which stands in contrast to the immortality of the gods."

From the beginning of Homer’s first major epic, it is clear that gods are major characters with real power and influence. The narrator explains that a human feud was initiated by divine action: “What god, then, made the feud between them? Apollo, son of Leto and Zeus." This is only one of many examples in which the gods act directly in a way that affects humans. Later, Athena plays a role in battle, by “(guiding) the point upon the man’s nose beside the eye." And while this language reveals involvement from the gods, it should also be pointed out that Diomedes, a human, had to throw the spear before a goddess could guide it.

The gods gather in a political sense, vying for their own individual agendas that sometimes conflict. It is there that roles are established. As Zeus tells Aphrodite, “War is not your department. Leave all that to Ares and Athena, and busy yourself with marriage and love." This is not to say that they always agree or that everyone is treated equally. They are definitely not a monolithic entity driving humans toward an end on which they are all united. For example, the reader is told in Book V that Zeus hates Ares “more than any other god alive." This statement is significant because consensus seems to be that Zeus is the most powerful god—he is referred to as “the lord of hosts”—although even he is not completely omnipotent. Nestor observes in Book XIV that “not even Zeus Thunderer himself could undo it," hinting again that humans have at least some agency. Zeus also seems to contradict himself—on separate occasions he helps and harms Hector—at times, rather than consistently pursuing one end with a set of favorite humans winning out in the end.

Despite that degree of agency, the human characters in The Iliad consistently demonstrate a fear and reverence for the power of the gods. On separate occasions, King Agamemnon, Achilles, and even the Trojans offered prayers to the gods. And not only do humans offer prayers, but gods, at times, answer those prayers. For example, the reader is told that “Apollo heard (Glaucos’s) prayer. In a moment he stilled the pains, he dried the blood that ran from the wound, he put courage into the man." Elsewhere, Phoinix counsels Achilles that “Even the gods can be moved and they are greater than you in excellence and honour and might." But the possibility that prayers might be answered again allots human beings with some responsibility, even if that degree is only the decision of whether or not to pray.

That is not to suggest that prayer is their only agency, just that it is some agency. Clearly, there are also times when gods choose not to act, which gives human decision great weight. Characters in the poem, like people today, get caught up in blaming the various deities for what are often the consequences of their own actions. Helen, for example, laments to Hector that “Zeus has laid a cruel fate upon us." But the end—Hector’s death—would not have come to fruition had he heeded advice from his wife to fight more defensively or not at all.

Put simply, gods and humans in The Iliad are characters in the story because they both have important roles to play. Both make decisions that affect outcomes; both have agendas; both vie for influence throughout the poem. This dualist plot sets up a fascinating dynamic, but it does not necessarily follow that gods and humans are equals. The gods are immortal and definitely more powerful than humans, and especially more eternal. As Glaucos observes in Book VI: “The generations of men are like the leaves of the forest. Leaves fall when the breezes blow, in the springtime others grow; as they go and come agen to upon the earth do men." But this mortality does not absolve the human characters of all responsibility.

Knowing Versus Meeting: A Reflection on Interpersonal Relationships

2011-07-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

"It's a great place to meet people," we often hear people say about a particular city or perhaps bar or other social event. The statement is a compliment; it usually adds a positive connotation to the place. And to be clear, the purpose of this post is not to destroy the notion that "meeting people" is a good thing, but rather to suggest that "knowing people" is a much higher aim, and one that is overlooked with our "as many friends as possible," transient, social-media-driven culture.

Meeting people is useful in two situations that I am aware of. When one moves somewhere new, he or she wants to meet people at school or church or work or in social settings in order to develop a support network. That makes sense to me; it is needed and good.

Another instance in which it really makes sense to be intentional about "meeting people" is in finding one's spouse, a lifelong mate, which often occurs in the twenties. This process is thousands of years old--the word "suitor" used to be a common one, like in Homer's The Odyssey--although the age for such action has risen and the responsibility for it has shifted from the family to the individual. Our culture is more indirect about the process, and arguably more passive and dishonest. We pretend it's about a certain bar or a football game or the cup of coffee or the dance floor or dinner party. But make no mistake; it is about finding a mate. And it's nothing to apologize for. We are simply responding to how we were made, and it makes sense that we would seek out large groups of people to "meet" with the hopes of authentic connection with at least one of those people.

But outside of the above purposes of "meeting people," I'm not sure "meeting people" for its own sake is any sort of virtue. Particularly for a Christian who thinks he is supposed to "love" everyone, this can be so easy to misunderstand. My girlfriend often uses the phrase "savior complex." That's when we think we have to know and love everyone, as if all people depend on one person's nurturing. But the trap here is that when we "know" everyone, chances are we don't know anyone, and no one knows us. One of my close friends borrows from Jesus by using a gardening analogy in order to better think about relationships. If we have too many gardens, or farm too many crops, chances are we are not tilling, fertilizing, and weeding enough, and the crops suffer. We do not produce as sweet and full a fruit as would otherwise happen if we would take greater care of the land. The same is true for relationships. If we are stretching ourselves with dozens of "appointments" with people we hardly know but met a few times, chances are our most important and intimate relationships are suffering. We may not be as emotionally connected as we could be or perhaps once even were.

I am as guilty as anyone of building as many friends as possible trap, as if having acquaintances in every city in the nation is somehow as valuable as really knowing and being known in the very place I inhabit. Part of me understands that to prioritize relationships in a healthy manner will require dealing with some loss. There are tons of amazing people out there, and I cannot be fully intimate with all of them. It's hard to admit. With a boarding school network from high school, a liberal arts university network from my college years, an off-campus semester network from D.C, and a Teach For America network from Jacksonville and two summer institutes, it can be pretty easy to believe that I know a lot of people, when the truth is my knowledge of the places I've lived and the people I've encountered is more surface level than I would like to admit. It's pretty easy to hide our faults and our ugliest aspects when everything is short-term.

A mentor of mine has said that really knowing and still loving is as hard as anything in this world, and yet there may not be anything better. It's easy to love a person when we only know the beautiful parts. It is when we begin to expose the more shameful parts that relationships break down, commitments fall apart. I mean this in a romantic sense for sure, but also in a much more broader sense. Families, neighbors, colleagues, and church bodies are all at this risk.

Who are your most important relationships? Are they getting enough of your attention and care? Do you really know the people you spend time with? Do they know you? Or are you just "meeting" a lot of people?

Youth Group Revisited

2011-07-11T17:31:00.000-07:00

I'm writing from East Moline, Illinois, of all places, at a youth group work camp. A friend I met several years ago at a similar camp in Decatur is directing the whole thing, and he invited me out to help.

It's been a while since I've been so engrossed in youth group culture, but I can't say it's changed much. Youth group is a good babysitting service, slightly about helping out society and sometimes about a compartmentalized Jesus--indoctrination is definitely in full force--but as I look around at the 400+ campers, it is mostly and always about hormones and the opposite sex. Girls giggle in huddles, while boys--depending on whether they are junior high or high school students--either chase each other around trying to impress or stand aloof, acting "too cool for school." As youth groupers develop boldness through the week, the divide between boys and girls shrinks, and the lucky ones will find themselves flirting awkwardly and probably causing late-night trouble.

To be clear, I offer this as an observation, not a criticism. There are certainly worse places for American teenagers to hang out at than youth group. (The only thing I find completely repulsive is all the plastic plates, cups, and silverware that get cheaply deposited in trash cans, but youth groups learn that from America, not the other way around.) Even though I am pretty far removed from the scene, I have lots of youth group memories, and two of my college friends are youth pastors these days (you can see their fine blogs here and here).

Many of the memories predictably center around the opposite sex. A game of (surprise of all surprises) "Truth or Dare" at a youth group lock-in. An attractive girl I didn't know picking me out of the audience and calling me up to the stage so that she could put make-up all over my face for some obnoxious youth group game. Kissing my girlfriend-of-the-time in a hotel room on a Cedar Point trip. The alluring touchiness of a cute girl at a work camp. And yes, balling my eyes out at an Acquire The Fire conference in Indianapolis. Curiously, on that occasion I remember standing next to my no-longer girlfriend from the Cedar Point trip with my then-girlfriend in the same building but in a different section. (It's a complicated story.)

But always, I was aware of the girls. Apparently, I am not the only one whose main youth group memories were about the opposite sex. My current girlfriend kissed a boy for the first time at church camp. One of my good friends married a girl he met at church camp in middle school.

These things are not accidental, and I do not blame them. It is simply a reflection of how we were made--even as junior highers and high schoolers--as sexual beings. If you put that many of them together in that intimate of a setting for a week, things are bound to happen, faux love affairs bound to begun, trouble surely to be gotten into.

If We Outlaw Texting While Driving, Why Not Eating, too?

2011-07-06T08:07:00.000-07:00

"When I think of texting, I think of Chris Schumerth," a friend once told me. Another friend once told me he felt like I would not answer the phone no matter what time of day it was, but that if he texted me at 3:30 a.m., he would receive a response within seconds. There is some truth in that. Admittedly, I was one of the main culprits who forced my family into the unlimited texting monthly phone plan.

Unfortunately, having a hand on a steering wheel and an eye on the road has never really gotten in the way of my habit. It made a carpooling friend in Florida unsafe, so I used to hand my phone over before starting the car. I am going to have to change this habit apparently, because my state has joined several other states by enacting a low that makes texting while driving illegal and punishable with a $500 fine.

Though one more instance of the government telling me what I can or cannot do does not exactly thrill me, I would not be foolish enough to make the case that my texting while driving doesn't affect the safety of the road (even though I, like many other texters, can send a text message without looking at the phone). There is already statistical analysis being done on texting while driving, and the conclusions are not favorable. At the office, one of my supervisors often says "People don't use 'common sense' so we have to legislate it." There are all sorts of problems with that statement, but I'm sure texting is one example of what he's talking about. I already don't pay attention enough as a driver, and texting simply provides one more distraction.

While I think there is plenty of legitimacy in the Libertarian argument in this case, I'll save that one for another time. My real issue with this law is what is not included, that we all do, and which makes us just as unsafe as texting. I'm talking about eating, of course. Most of us do it while we drive. You might say that doesn't take as much concentration as texting, and it doesn't on the surface. But think about what we tend to eat in the car. Fast food, right? We have a whole drive-through system to encourage this! So not just pick the sandwich up, take a bite, and put it back down. How about unwrapping the food? Maneuvering a straw out of its wrapper and poking it through a lid? Putting ketchup on some fries? All of those moments are a car in front breaking and a rear-ending collision waiting to happen. And these are all common fast food behaviors, and no one that I know of is explicitly attacking it with legislation. (To be fair, we can be punished for reckless driving, which might stem from eating, but that is not the same as the very act of texting while driving being illegal).

So why is texting being singled out when we do so many other things from the driver's seat that we all know are unsafe? Why the inconsistency?

The Hard Work of Forgiveness

2011-07-04T17:25:00.000-07:00

"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain."
~James Baldwin

You are more than the choices that you've made
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes
You are more than the problems you create
You've been remade
~10th Avenue North, "You are More"

The local church whose life I am a part of has been intentionally placed in an old school building in a high-minority, high-poverty part of town for several years. The reasons for doing this are many and complex, but essentially we believe we are called to those places by the Gospel, we believe in community building, and we believe that our own perspectives and views are changed and perhaps even healed by being there. (That attempted explanation reflects my own understanding, not anyone else's.)

Last week, our building was broken into and several doors, windows, and other items were damaged. Whenever something like this happens in life, for larger entities or for individuals, there are four responses I can think of:

1. We can pretend it didn't happen and deny that it hurt us. We might even cheaply vocalize some sort of forgiveness.
2. We can go on an investigation to find the perpetrator so that we can strike back in vengeance.
3. We can board up our windows and doors, go somewhere else, and speak ill of that place and people for the rest of our lives.
4. We can be honest about the way in which we were violated, do the emotional work it takes to feel our own pain and to try and understand why someone might do this, then we can forgive authentically.

If it's not blatantly obvious, I think the fourth response--albeit the hardest option--is the healthiest response. But if we're not careful, it's really tempting to start using all sorts of "us-them" language, vilifying the "other," as if we're self-righteously perfect, blameless, and wholly healthy in the situation. This is true for one-on-one relational disputes, but it's also true for educational reform debates and disputes among nations.

Our pastor presented this scenario to the congregation yesterday, and--as he often does--offered it up for some discussion mid-service. One person asked a really important question. If we "caught the person" or found out who did it, how would we treat that person? What would be our response? I also really resonated with the guidance our pastor gave. He said basically that we needed to be honest about the fact that we had been violated, but that this was a part of the work we are doing, and that whoever did this to us was, like us, acting out of woundedness. There is still much work to be done in rebuilding relationships that weren't broken over night.

A therapist once told me wounded people wound. Truer words have never been spoken, and I know that as both the wounded and the wounder.

I think I grew up with the misguided perception that forgiveness was simply about saying "I forgive you" to someone who has hurt or wronged you. While I've tried that method, the problem is I rarely actually felt like I was forgiving him or her. Instead I felt like there was an angry bitterness building inside me, wanting to strike back.

When I have actually reached some state of forgiveness, I had to realize that it wasn't some cheap act of the will; forgiving meant first dwelling in the pain for a while, through thoughts, prayers, conversations, and journaling. Tears would also probably be healthy in times like these, although I can't honestly say I get there much myself. But I had to admit the hurt and the anger, maybe even pointing a few fingers. But eventually I had to get to the other person, either mentally and emotionally or perhaps even directly. I had to see the other person as wounded, too, acting out of that woundedness. I had to ask myself, what needs have been unmet in this person that cause him or her to act this way? It is there that we can empathize, and eventually be freed from our bitterness. That is forgiveness.

It's not very "safe." And it is harder than simply speaking a sentence we may or may not believe.

The Serenity of a Canoe Trip

2011-07-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I canoed with some co-workers on the White River from Daleville to downtown Anderson. The last time I had canoed was, I think, during my short stint as a boy scout well over a dozen years ago, so as you can imagine, the three-hour trip gave my core quite the workout. Somehow my amateur partner and I managed to avoid capsizing with only one main scare to tell about.

But between rows, the experience turned out to be quite a serene one, something I definitely needed. Never mind touristy visits to enslaving zoos, I have not felt that connected to nature in a really long time. For parts of the trip, it seemed like I was taking notes with Aldo Leopold; other times I felt like a character in Apocolypse Now.

For almost the whole trip, a magestical blue herron sat purched on land just ahead of us, only to fly ahead just before we passed it. It was almost as if the bird was our guide. We passed what appeared to be female mallard ducks and a flock of Canadian geese, but my animal recognition is too elementary to be confident in my identification. Small fish jumped out of the water, and squirrels darted across slanted trees that met just above us on the river.

While I cannot vouch for the cleanliness of the water composition, I was pleasantly surprised at the appearance of both banks. The occasional abandonned tire or overpass above did nothing to diminish the beauty of the landscape, particularly around Mounds Park, where hikers walked up and down forested hills, the soil erosion providing smooth and slick inclines from the water. While the hectic pace of my lifestyle does not earn any environmentalist or conservationist labels, our journey did reinforce the need for thoughtful human stewardship over creation.

The part of me that wants control kept trying to figure out where I was, but with the exception of an occasional graphiti-sprayed label, it was difficult to know, which provided all the more reason to get lost in the experience.

The Christian-Secular Dichotomy: A Flawed Construct

2011-06-28T11:17:00.000-07:00

"God blessed them and said to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.'"

~Genesis 1:28

"He answered, 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and love your neighbor as yourself.'"

~Luke 10:27

"I downloaded the new Josh Garrels' album," a friend told me yesterday. "It's really good, but I'm surprised he keeps singing Christian music. I thought he would move more toward secular themes."

In the moment, I chose not to nitpick the comment, but I still cringed inside. What my friend meant, rightly, was that Garrels' continues to develop his talent while doing nothing to hide his Christian faith and worldview. Never mind whether or not Garrels would appreciate the term "Christian singer" (I doubt he would), but my friends' implicit acceptance of the "Christian" and "secular" divide is what made me cringe. I grew up in a home that celebrated "Christian music," so I know the divide well. But the more I have thought about it, the more problematic it seems. The fact is, the word "Christian" really makes a terrible adjective. The word means "follower of Christ," which makes it a natural noun.

There is one world, and God made it. (This is one reason why "Church and State" could never be fully separated.) Genesis tells us that God "saw that it was good." This is not to suggest that evil does not exist; of course, it does. The Fall is tragically real, and it consequences are seen in every facet of life, even "Christian" pockets, like churches and industries and tee-shirt companies. Calling something Christian doesn't make it good, and calling something secular doesn't make it bad.

The truth is more complicated than that, more messy. I would like to suggest that "how" we pursue our vocations is more indicative of the honor or dishonor we do to God and ourselves in the process. I'll never forget hearing Rich Mullins--the late singer/songwriter--tell a story about someone who told them "God gave me this song" that they wrote. After listening to the song, Mullins thought, I think God could have done better than that. The point was, the guy wasn't very good, and his conviction that God gave him the song is questionable theology at best.

I think we honor God, worship even, by heeding the various callings in our lives--painter, writer, student, mother, brother, boyfriend, etc.--and by doing those to the best of our abilities. I would even suggest that is true whether you call yourself a Christian or not. Because we are created beings, our existence is not unlimited. But within those limits, there is a huge spectrum of what we can do with our lives. I could spend the rest of my life pouring my heart and soul into making the NBA. I would be wasting my life and talents and probably adding a few knee surgeries to my repertoire, not honoring the God who created me. In fact, to some degree, I would be rebelling against God by pursuing a life and career that wasn't mine to have.

Similarly, I could come to work with a cross on my neck, a WWJD bracelet on my wrist, and pass out soul-saving tracts on my home, and that also would not necessarily honor God. Am I making the most of my gifts? Am I being honest? What are my intentions? Whose glory am I seeking? Those are some of the questions that can move us toward loving God with heart, soul, and strength as the aforementioned verse in Luke calls us to.

It can be helpful to look at human relationships as a microcosm for our relationship with God. Do we measure the love others have for us by the number of times they tell us they love us or whether or not we are mentioned on the tee-shirts they wear? Of course not. (This is not to diminish the importance of telling someone you love them; of course, there is a place for that.) But we know and feel love by more nuanced, less definable, acts. Does a person give us time? Speak to us respectfully? Tell us the truth? Apologize when he or she wrongs us? Does this person give us his or her heart? Does he or she return our calls? Ask us the tough questions? Those are what make up love. So why do we cheapen love for God by making this superficial divide between Christian and secular?

I have spent much of my time criticizing the "Christian" side of the divide--mainly because that is the side I have mostly known--but I think people from the opposite side are equally guilty. Whether it's a film or a book or an album or whatever, there are those who judge art or services based on whether or not there is any religious faith implication in the entity. I've heard people say that no matter how good the work, they would never give to any organization that had a religious element to it. I also have friends who would listen to someone like Garrels and would love him if his Christianity was not so central to his work. Instead, they would not take him seriously. Let me go a step farther: someone who happens to tattoo their favorite Bible verse on their bicep is not a good reason to dismiss that person and their work. Put simply, whether or not something or someone identifies itself as "Christian" is simply not a good measure of quality, in either direction. There are both good and bad artists who call themselves Christian, and there are both good and bad artists among those who would consider themselves adverse to anything Christian.

Garrels, like so many others, moves us because he is developing his created talents with some degree of integrity. He is a good musician and songwriter by any standard. Not because the number of times the name of Jesus does or doesn't make an appearance in his songs. He could do that by singing about the Bible or love or the ocean or a tree or church or hope or despair.

It's all the world that God made, and all of it can be explored to and for His glory.

An Ethics Manifesto for Memoir

2011-06-23T07:26:00.000-07:00

In a publishing world that often includes the likes of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code and William Young’s The Shack, fact and fiction are so often blended into one book, which can cause great confusion for a reader and controversy within the public discourse. Nowhere is that discussion more necessary or weighty than in the genre of memoir. As Sven Birckerts acknowledges in The Art of Tim in Memoir, even Mary Karr’s highly successful The Liar’s Club was originally written as fiction. Memoir is placed in the nonfiction section of bookstores and libraries, but as Thomas Larson points out The Memoir and the Memoirist, memoir is not nonfiction in the same sense that autobiography is. As is so obvious from some of my own failed attempts at writing memoir, dialogue has to be created from memory, and places and characters need dramatization in order to satisfy the reader. To use Vivian Gornick’s word from The Situation and the Story, memoir is “composed," rather than an arbitrary collection of facts thrown together chronologically.

But this blend of dramatized nonfiction is messy work, both as a reader or as a writer. Which personas are trustworthy ones? The following is my ethical framework for writing memoir. The framework can be broken down into the following parts: ethical appeal, emotional verses factual truth, and a note about dialogue.

I. Ethical Appeal

Writers can lose readers quite quickly if they do not establish ethical appeal. Ethical appeal is what makes a reader trust a memoirist: perhaps a little self-deprecating humor, grappling with the complexities of a character a persona may not like, or evidence of the emotional “search” or “quest” to find the real story. That a writer must wrestle with both his remembering (current) and remembered (former) self does not make the task any easier. But to search for that story is not the same as factual perfection; memoir relies on memory, which does not get always get the details right. Mary McCarthy makes this clear in her preface to Memories of a Catholic Girlhood: “There are cases where I am not sure myself whether I am making something up. I think I remember, but I am not positive.

Larson lists out several potential lies from a memoirist, borrowing from the work of Andrew Hudgins. The lies that struck me as the most tempting were “leaving stuff out,” “not writing about the things one is truly ashamed of,” and “emphasizing a narrative arc of one’s life so that one’s life has a meaning and significance if may not have had." To be clear, a lie of omission is not the same as selection. Memoirists must be selective. But a selective memoirist makes choices based on episodes and narration that fit the theme, rather than on what he or she wants or does not want the reader to know.

II. Emotional Verses Factual Truth

It cannot be denied that a memoirist sometimes makes a mistake—intentionally or unintentionally—in the area of factual truth. But memoir is not fact-checked nor considered fiction because the greater truth of a memoir is the emotional experience of the persona. We call this theme. This may give a memoirist permission to imagine the color of a character’s shirt or the smell of a hallway (with the experience of the reader in mind), but it does not give the memoirist permission to make up events or characters that just so happen to advance the theme. McCarthy admits that “Many a time, in the course of doing these memoirs, I have wished that I were writing fiction. The temptation to invent has been very strong…” But to take the full liberty of invention is to abuse and perhaps lose one’s ethical appeal, as outlined above. Birckerts adds that “This really happened is the baseline contention of the memoir."

That emotional truth is at the of center memoir is not the same as saying, as some readers may suggest, that memoir is simply therapy, the vomiting of all one’s personal problems on the page with the expectation that readers will buy the book, care, and empathize. Memoir is not the same as writing journal entries. A persona’s psychology is part of the story to be sure, but the development must be crafted carefully rather than exploited cheaply. Birckerts makes that same point: “I’ve even heard people venture that the writing memoirs is more a therapeutic than an artistically expressive occupation, and that the results are best put away in the desk drawer than shopped in the market place. I could not disagree more." If a memoir makes the writer or the reader feel good, that is fine, but it is by no means the intent of writing a memoir.

III. An Approach to Dialogue

One of the tricky techniques for an ethical memoirist is that of writing dialogue. In Frank McCourt’s popular Angela’s Ashes, the characters speak widely and freely, which caused at least me to suspect that he created and imagined far more dialogue than he remembered. Some of the dialogue was surely true in spirit; that is to say that there are certain things we remember our parents saying repetitively in certain situations, and those memories almost certainly aided McCourt in his dialogue writing. But I take a more prudent approach in my own dialogue. I will recreate for sure, and it is not exact, but I have to at least remember something about an actual conversation in a moment of time in order to include it in my own memoir. As McCarthy wrote, “My memory is good, but obviously I cannot recall whole passages of dialogue that took place years ago…The conversations, as given, are mostly fictional. Quotation marks indicate that a conversation to this general affect took place, but I do not vouch for the exact words or the exact order of speeches."

In conclusion, ethical decision-making for memoirists is not clear-cut, and nor is it universally agreed upon. My framework starts from the ideal of ethical appeal, values emotional truth over factual truth (without resorting to pure invention), and allows for creation of dialogue out of remembered conversations. It's a good start, but will no doubt evolve as I continue to write in this genre.

A Biblical Distinction Between Judging and Discerning

2011-06-21T07:28:00.000-07:00

"Don't judge me!" is a saying that so many of us resort to, usually when we're exhibiting questionable behavior that we're uncertain of ourselves. But what does this statement mean? And what are its biblical implications?

The loaded word here is "judge." Some definitions are in order. Judgement is when we cast a guilty sentence on someone; we condemn; we dismiss their legitimacy; or we make a decision about someone's salvation. Think of a literal judge: it is his (or her) job to decide whether someone is guilty or not and then to sentence them to prison or fines or whatever. That is quite different from, say, discernment, which is to make commitments regarding what is right or wrong, good or evil, or healthy and unhealthy. These convictions can be solely personal or they can be fully universal.

Sadly, we all do both at times, but I would like to argue that while I--as a Christian and as a human--have no right to do the first (judging), I should and must do the second (discerning). As I have written elsewhere, we all discern, whether we like that or not. There is just no way to live in this world without making such decisions.

I believe this distinction is in line with both the Old and New Testaments. Both are full of moral and ethical instructions. The "everything goes" philosophy certainly did not come from Scripture. But the Bible is also clear that God is the judge; He is the only one qualified to make decisions about one's salvation. "Vengeance is mine," God says in Deuteronomy 32:35. "Judge not, lest you be judged," Jesus says (Matthew 7:1) at the end of the Sermon on the Mount (interestingly after a long list of moral instruction).

There is one story that illustrates both of these characteristics so well. It is the story about the girl who was caught in adultery and in the midst of a trial of sorts in which Jesus played a central role. Jesus tells them, "He who is without sin be the first to throw the stone" (John 8:7), or in other words, "Who are you all to judge here?" The point was well-taken; they all leave. But in his next breath, he makes a discerning statement to the woman. "Go and sin no more" (John 8:11), He says, making it clear that the behavior that brought her to trial was not good or healthy, but that grace freed her.

Decisions demand our discernment every day. But we have no right to judge--read: condemn--the people around us, and in turn, they have no right to judge/condemn us. It would be easy to read this as license to live carelessly immoral lives, but Paul addresses that in Romans 6:1-2: What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?" That, of course, from the same person who wrote, "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23).

We are also not let off the hook from speaking discerning truth into the lives of those around us. "The Matthew Principle" comes to mind: “If your brother or sistersins,go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.' If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church..." (Matthew 15-17). But even that is checked by "First take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye" (Matthew 7:5).

None of this is easy, that's for sure. The cheap answer is "The Bible just keeps contradicting itself!" But a better understanding is that there is actually a difference between judging and discerning. The former is for God to do; the latter is for us. There is a full life to be lived in that tension.

David Tyree: Mothers, Fathers, and How Media Drives the Discourse

2011-06-17T12:10:00.000-07:00

If you google David Tyree right now, most of the first hits you'll find will have pretty much the same headline. They will all say something about how he said gay marriage will lead to anarchy. And he did say that. But as is often the case, if you watch the video of what he was actually trying to say, it had little to do with anarchy.

In case you haven't been paying attention or you don't know who he is, Tyree was a hero of sorts in Super Bowl XLII a few years ago as a receiver for the New York Giants. In response to a teammate who recently when on record in support of gay marriage, Tyree came out and expressed the opposite viewpoint.

As I watched the video, I was struck by two things. One, that Tyree is quite articulate and has thought out his viewpoint. And two, how little his point really had to do with anarchy, which has become the headline for almost every news source that I have seen take on this story.

What was his real point? Well, I would encourage you to check out the video for yourself. But as I watch it, I hear Tyree expressing, in one more form, the need for children to have both a mother and father. That major media outlets refuse to report on this aspect of what he said tells me two things. First of all, the mainstream media--sports or not--is biased and mostly in one direction. Secondly, it is much easier to paint Tyree as an idiot for making the anarchy comment (if he really thinks gay marriage would lead to anarchy, I definitely disagree with him, but I wouldn't be surprised to see him make a clarifying apology in the upcoming days) than it would be to actually engage with what he was saying about our need for mothers and fathers.

Now, as a society we have screwed this up father-mother thing royally, no questions asked. But that does not change our need. Need is the right word. That many of us unfortunately do not get it does not change the fact that we do need both a father and a mother. This statement shouldn't even be controversial. We can talk in biological or spiritual terms; it doesn't matter. That people even try to combat it says more about the length we go to rationalize our behaviors than it does about about the legitimacy about such a view. I use "our" intentionally; my own wounds and unfulfilled needs and desires also manifest themselves in unhealthy ways, and I am prone to rationalizing those behaviors.

Thank you Mr. Tyree for calling us, again, to real motherhood and fatherhood. And I, for one, will give you grace for the comment about anarchy that sounded so ignorant.

Josh Garrels: A Different Ethic and Sustenance for my Soul

2011-06-17T07:55:00.000-07:00

"Tempted and tried, I wondered why
The good man died, the bad man thrives
And Jesus cries because he loves em’ both
We’re all cast-aways in need of ropes
Hangin’ on by the last threads of our hope
In a house of mirrors full of smoke
Confusing illusions I’ve seen
Where did I go wrong, I sang along
To every chorus of the song
That the devil wrote like a piper at the gates
Leading mice and men down to their fates
But some will courageously escape
The seductive voice with a heart of faith
While walkin’ that line back home
So much more to life than we’ve been told
It’s full of beauty that will unfold"
~Josh Garrels, "Farther Along"

"Hold fast my people and sing
Through peace and through suffering
All for the joy that it brings, to be free
It’s gonna cost us everything
To follow one Lord and King
True love endure everything
To be free"
~Josh Garrels, "The Resistance"

Sometimes we get lucky. That's what happened six or seven years ago when I trekked with some friends over to Muncie, Indiana, for a concert in a church by a guy we'd never heard of. Truth is, we were looking for something to do. Amongst the twenty or thirty other onlookers that night, what we found was a very raw but hidden gem by the name of Josh Garrels. Belted out of his tall, lanky frame, his music blended several styles and watching him play it was a spiritual experience in and of itself. The lyrics were passionate and intelligent, overtly spiritual but not preachy.

He told us his story, that of a college dropout dragged to the very church in which we were sitting by his sister until he was moved one Sunday, alcohol on his breath, to tears and a submission that has set off a career that feels incredibly right and rich and beautiful to this observer. After a short stint pastoring a church in Indianapolis--he was at least good at the preaching part because I heard him once and his lyrical gifting shined there, too--he committed to music full-time, and I think the heavens are grateful for that decision. Once in a great while you encounter someone you just know is doing exactly what they were born to do. Michael Jordan was that way in basketball. Rafe Esquith is that way with teaching elementary school. And Josh Garrels is that way with playing music. There is just something so beautiful about watching someone live out their calling really well and get the most out of their giftings.

I have since seen him play more than a half dozen times from local shows to a bar in Jacksonville to Cornerstone Festival in Illinois. His songs poetically play with the beauties of creation alongside the corruption of our culture and politics, while calling us to a better way of living, Kingdom-of-God ethics perhaps. He has always taken time to talk with fans afterwards, even when his wife and kid were standing by. With roots in South Bend and Muncie, sadly he has moved on to the Carolinas and now to Portland, where it appears his family will settle, as much as a touring musician can, anyway.

To illustrate the kind of man he is, let me offer one anecdote. I was listening to the CD I purchased after that Muncie show one night when I realized the beats had been borrowed. There was no indication of that on the CD, so I e-mailed him and asked him what was up. Within hours, I had received a response. He apologized, and acknowledged that yes, he had borrowed the beats without ever really expecting his music to spread wide enough to matter. He quit selling the CD and no longer plays the song at shows. It spoke to me of an integrity and accessibility that is incredibly rare in his industry. Even as his music has become more popular and established, he has kept at it completely independently with his wife contributing her art on album covers and such.

Admittedly, I become a little bit evangelistic about Garrels' music every time a new album comes out. His Love & War & The Sea In Between came out two days ago, so here I am promoting it. I won't review it because I don't know enough about music technique and I definitely wouldn't do it justice. But there is clearly so much thought and creativity that goes into every song, and he is the rare type of artist that seems to get better with every new project. "The Resistance" gives me chills.

Here's the kicker, though: he's giving away his new album for a year. Who does that? How radical is it? In an e-mail newsletter, he wrote: "We've really felt the Lord asking us to give this album away for one year, and it's our joy to do so...Not only have all the collaborators been paid, but mixing and mastering costs have also been covered. This is the first time we’ve not gone in debt while making an album...We want this to be a 'year of jubilee'!"

He's returning to that church in Muncie for a show next weekend. Hope to see you there.