The Mayberry-esque exclamation "what in God's name..." is something beyond quaint for me these days. I've been thinking a lot about God/G-d/Yahweh/Elohim/Adonai/Jehovah/Allah/... What is in a name? More particularly, what is in "God's name?"
Names are given to distinguish an individual from others of its own kind. A thingy is a plant is a flower is a rose is a white rose is a... Names lend specificity, distinction.
But what about this God character we keep prattling on about? I am of the belief that there is one good, living, loving, intentional, creative reality that IS within, without and all around us. Our best impulses, thoughts and actions are seeped in this reality. Our "sins" are attempts at blocking, violating or turning away from its omnipresent flow. I believe Christ to be a brilliant manifestation of this reality in flesh. We, too, are called to be brilliant manifestations of this IS. That's my best current understanding of that which is far beyond my ability to communicate or even comprehend.
So how can we come to name it God? Do we really need to distinguish it from others of its own kind? What others?
No, the names we give to the reality -- the foundation and energy and impulse of all that is Shalom and beyond -- don't serve so much to distinguish the One from other gods. It serves to distinguish us from each other, making us peculiar. Separate. Rivals. Our various names for the good, living, loving, creative reality are so many team jerseys or - worse - military uniforms. How myopic. How misguided. How tragic. How mortally flawed.
For some who read this, it may seem I am breaking the rules of being a Christian pastor. The Christian pastor I am becoming is less and less about fences, more and more about open fields. I guess the pastor has been led out to wide pasture. Where are you flocking these days?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Parenting without Annette
I used to write articles for City newspaper. I'm tossing a few back out there to spur discussion without actually writing something new...
Knowing the constant gives perspective. – Tao Te Ching
As a parent, I love the commercial media. Every nasty, morally bankrupt minute is a Godsend. Cable is even better.
My folks started a family with Donna Reed and Father Knows Best as their standard. Wally and the Beaver were good, wholesome kids, and mouse-eared Annette had that marvelous, innocent twinkle in her eye. Marsha was hot, but modest. Shucks, even Otis the town drunk never gave Sheriff Taylor any real trouble. The television intoned what family and community life must be. Who could possibly measure up to such cruelly high standards?
Today’s media culture is far less sanctimonious. Our heroes are thrown up and torn down at breakneck speed. Motivation is almost always questioned. “Reality” show idols eventually stick a knife in whatever back they’re scratching. Dads tend to be inept. Moms are often shrews. Kids are conniving little manipulators. Who could possibly fall beneath such crass, low standards?
With the help of HDTV, my children see clearly that perfection is myth. As the digital screens get flatter and thinner, the current generation can see behind what we cathode-ray-tubers considered rock-solid. Cynical? Perhaps. But our children are also becoming far harder marks for the hucksters to hit.
Corporate media’s gradual abandonment of broadcast standards means we set our own. Every time my kids and I dodge a mass-murder commercial we say brutality is to be avoided, not celebrated. Whenever we channel-surf past people half out of their minds and their underwear, we affirm sexuality as a gift, not a ploy. Appear in public without Gameboy pacifiers and we join a human race already in progress.
So God bless our corporate media conglomerate. Thanks to them, any fool can create life lessons simply by turning off and finding something better to do.
Knowing the constant gives perspective. – Tao Te Ching
As a parent, I love the commercial media. Every nasty, morally bankrupt minute is a Godsend. Cable is even better.
My folks started a family with Donna Reed and Father Knows Best as their standard. Wally and the Beaver were good, wholesome kids, and mouse-eared Annette had that marvelous, innocent twinkle in her eye. Marsha was hot, but modest. Shucks, even Otis the town drunk never gave Sheriff Taylor any real trouble. The television intoned what family and community life must be. Who could possibly measure up to such cruelly high standards?
Today’s media culture is far less sanctimonious. Our heroes are thrown up and torn down at breakneck speed. Motivation is almost always questioned. “Reality” show idols eventually stick a knife in whatever back they’re scratching. Dads tend to be inept. Moms are often shrews. Kids are conniving little manipulators. Who could possibly fall beneath such crass, low standards?
With the help of HDTV, my children see clearly that perfection is myth. As the digital screens get flatter and thinner, the current generation can see behind what we cathode-ray-tubers considered rock-solid. Cynical? Perhaps. But our children are also becoming far harder marks for the hucksters to hit.
Corporate media’s gradual abandonment of broadcast standards means we set our own. Every time my kids and I dodge a mass-murder commercial we say brutality is to be avoided, not celebrated. Whenever we channel-surf past people half out of their minds and their underwear, we affirm sexuality as a gift, not a ploy. Appear in public without Gameboy pacifiers and we join a human race already in progress.
So God bless our corporate media conglomerate. Thanks to them, any fool can create life lessons simply by turning off and finding something better to do.
The Fear Monster
A few years back I used to write articles for Rochester, NY's City newspaper. I thought I'd republish a few here and see what gronks...
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. – John 14:27
When I was a child I marveled at the prospect of someday being big – courageous, strong and free of all fear, like Mom and Dad. The dark depths under the bed, the eerie silence behind the closet door, even the twisted shadows reaching through the window held no power over them. Life without fear held such promise!
At age 42, I’m still hoping to someday be bigger than my fears. Like most of us, I merely traded my childhood fears for mortgage monsters and well-being ghouls that sometimes overwhelm, robbing me of sleep far more aggressively than did any imagined threat of my youth. I haven’t learned my lesson: It is not a monster I fear; my fear IS the monster.
Fear is the opponent of peace. It constricts the flow of blood to our brains and narrows our thinking. It is the basis of all anger, crime and conflict.
Peace as the world gives – usually defined as the mere absence of war – is fearfully inadequate. Instead, let us with our children embrace a higher personal standard: peace as the absence of fear. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Do not let them be afraid, that wonderful man said. Examine and understand. Cast enlightenment on your darkest fears. It is what fear does to us in the darkest recesses of our hearts that leads to all that goes terribly wrong on this beautiful planet among these beautiful people.
Work through your nightmares and our world sleeps better tonight.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. – John 14:27
When I was a child I marveled at the prospect of someday being big – courageous, strong and free of all fear, like Mom and Dad. The dark depths under the bed, the eerie silence behind the closet door, even the twisted shadows reaching through the window held no power over them. Life without fear held such promise!
At age 42, I’m still hoping to someday be bigger than my fears. Like most of us, I merely traded my childhood fears for mortgage monsters and well-being ghouls that sometimes overwhelm, robbing me of sleep far more aggressively than did any imagined threat of my youth. I haven’t learned my lesson: It is not a monster I fear; my fear IS the monster.
Fear is the opponent of peace. It constricts the flow of blood to our brains and narrows our thinking. It is the basis of all anger, crime and conflict.
Peace as the world gives – usually defined as the mere absence of war – is fearfully inadequate. Instead, let us with our children embrace a higher personal standard: peace as the absence of fear. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Do not let them be afraid, that wonderful man said. Examine and understand. Cast enlightenment on your darkest fears. It is what fear does to us in the darkest recesses of our hearts that leads to all that goes terribly wrong on this beautiful planet among these beautiful people.
Work through your nightmares and our world sleeps better tonight.
The Do-Nothing Parent
I used to write short articles for Rochester, NY's City newspaper. Thought I'd revisit a few and see what discussion results...
The gods do not deduct from man's allotted span the hours spent in fishing. – Babylonian Proverb
I feel both gratified and somewhat guilty that you are taking the time to read these 300 words. It is my hope that you will gain nothing from them.
Your days are moving faster. This is no illusion. Your perception is accurate. Mathematically, a child experiences her second birthday as 0.13% of her life; her tenth, 0.027%; her thirtieth, 0.0091%. A sunny afternoon in the park does last longer for a five year-old than a twenty-five year-old because our days become ever-smaller portions of our lives. I believe this also explains why it takes so much more strength of will for children to wait for something eagerly anticipated or to endure something unpleasant or non-stimulating. Think of it from their perspective and understand.
When I was a child and summer was just shy of eternal, nothing was a perfectly wonderful thing to do. I had few obligations, and life came to me in giant blocks of time. As an adult, there are too many tasks to squeeze into the ever-shrinking hours. I’ll huff and I’ll puff and another day has blown by.
As I write this, there is a child in the next room waiting for me as patiently as he can. He wants to spend whatever time I will spare for him doing little or nothing in particular with me. He wants to feel my presence and know he’s loved. Sure, for me this will mean adding three more tasks to some other, already tightly packed hour. But for him it will mean so much more.
The less time we have to spare, the more critical our choice of how we spend it. What’s more important than your work? Nothing.
The gods do not deduct from man's allotted span the hours spent in fishing. – Babylonian Proverb
I feel both gratified and somewhat guilty that you are taking the time to read these 300 words. It is my hope that you will gain nothing from them.
Your days are moving faster. This is no illusion. Your perception is accurate. Mathematically, a child experiences her second birthday as 0.13% of her life; her tenth, 0.027%; her thirtieth, 0.0091%. A sunny afternoon in the park does last longer for a five year-old than a twenty-five year-old because our days become ever-smaller portions of our lives. I believe this also explains why it takes so much more strength of will for children to wait for something eagerly anticipated or to endure something unpleasant or non-stimulating. Think of it from their perspective and understand.
When I was a child and summer was just shy of eternal, nothing was a perfectly wonderful thing to do. I had few obligations, and life came to me in giant blocks of time. As an adult, there are too many tasks to squeeze into the ever-shrinking hours. I’ll huff and I’ll puff and another day has blown by.
As I write this, there is a child in the next room waiting for me as patiently as he can. He wants to spend whatever time I will spare for him doing little or nothing in particular with me. He wants to feel my presence and know he’s loved. Sure, for me this will mean adding three more tasks to some other, already tightly packed hour. But for him it will mean so much more.
The less time we have to spare, the more critical our choice of how we spend it. What’s more important than your work? Nothing.
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