Living in the Land

As someone who tries to read the Bible regularly, I have been spending a disproportionately large amount of time in the Old Testament lately. Call it making up for lost time. I generally started my reading, years ago, in the New Testament, and have not spent much time outside of it for a number of reasons, but I eventually tired of this. It got boring because it was too familiar. But over the past year or so, I have been exclusively reading the Old Testament, and it has helped me to recovered my excitement for the Bible since it is, in a way, more new to me.

But even in doing this, I have made a new trend. I read Isaiah, one of the prophets, and then  I read Exodus, to get the beginning of the story of Israel. I read all of the post-exillic books (Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah), followed by some even more mysterious works in the Deuterocanon. And then I read all of the wonderful theology and poetry of the rest of the prophets. If you look at that list closely, there is something clearly missing.

Let me lay it out here chronologically:
1. Israel is liberated from her 430 years of  slavery to Egypt, and then wanders in the wilderness for 40 years.
2. Israel enters the Promised Land and lives in it for over 700 years.
3. Israel goes into captivity again for about 40 years.
4. Israel comes back to the land and enters the “400 silent years,” without any prophets, and grapples with how to understand God when God’s voice is no longer present.
5. Israel meets Jesus as we enter the New Testament.

Now in my reading, I have studied the times of wandering, the times of trials, and the deep images that come out of them. But I only briefly skimmed over stage two, and that done via Chronicles, a book written during the transition between stages three and four as a summary of the past.

In other words, I avoided the day-to-day life of Israel. I skipped the books that deal with life in the land and having a relationship with God that isn’t based on big highs and lows but just normal living.

Sometimes I have trouble finding words to say in prayer, and the words of Scripture can often be helpful in pulling me out of my silent complacency. Recently I tried using a saying of Jesus that comes from John 14, where he tells his closest followers, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” I asked God to guide me in the Way, to show me the Truth, and to give me… to give me…

I just couldn’t get that word out. I struggled, stumbled, stuck on what “Life” might actually mean. It is not a concept I am very familiar with. In fact, in that moment, it almost felt terrifying. What is “the Life”? It seemed so huge, and yet so absent from what I experience and know.

This is the hardest part of faith. We can all talk about incredible moments of redemption or of the deep times of darkness when we “need God the most,” but we often forget that we also need God in our normal life. In the boring, mundane, day-to-day life. I can get so drawn into the ache felt during the silent years, the inspiring triumph of the Exodus, the passionate cry of the prophets. But that middle? Well, it’s about time I start looking into that, and so I have begun reading Samuel this week.

At first, it was hard to connect. It was without context, some slightly boring, heard-it-too-often kind of stories. But then I dug into the history and the theological relevancy, and I realized I need this book right now. At this point in my life, I am probably living in the land. I have no real direction, no main goals, just a basic idea of staying connected to God as I go about my normal duties. And this is no “Life.” No wonder the Israelites fell away so often during this period! It’s tough maintaining that connection when you’re stuck in what seems so normal, when you aren’t out changing the world.

Jesus said he came to give us life, and to give it “abundantly.” I’m not sure what that looks like when I’m just going to class, going to work, studying, reading, writing, hanging out with friends. Where is my “Life”? How is it abundant? How can I make a meaningful experience out of the day-to-day life in the land?

The ancient Israelites entered the land, symbolically describing it as a place “flowing with milk and honey,” to say that it was rich and sweet. But eventually they got bored with it, and the prophets constantly talk about it being “without inhabitant.” Did the land change, or did they just lose their perspective? Is my life without inhabitant, or am I just blind to the milk and honey that are so abundantly present all around me?

Late Night La Salle

For dinner we made a cheesesteak run to Pat’s, but that was around 6:30, and by now I’m hungry again, so it’s time to heat up one of those cans that I’ve been saving for just such an occasion. Which one shall it be? Cambell’s Southwest-style Chicken Vegetable will fill my stomach tonight. 3 minutes in the microwave, a minute standing time.

I am on duty as an RA in the dorms tonight, and my last official time to walk the building was at 2. The dorm has been more active than usual tonight, but not out of hand. We are a quiet folk that live in St Basil Court, keeping to ourselves mostly. There was the room with beer pong and the girl who stumbled into her room to vomit, but these are mild compared to the stories I hear out of North Dorms, and so overall I am glad for a simple night.

Homework has occupied most of my time, wanting to get it out of the way while I’m stuck here tonight so I can be free to do whatever tomorrow, although I have no particular plans as of yet. When Steph asked what I was doing tomorrow night, I said my plan was to find something going on and join it, be it with Reuben, Kieran, Suzanne, Angelo, Jimmy… nothing big, just some good company is all I ask.

I have had three cups of coffee tonight. I knew I would, and so I made them all at once in the larger French press, based not on my need of the caffeine to keep me awake (it has no such effect on me), but based on the amount of time I would be working and the fact that I seem to always need coffee when reading or doing work at the computer. It is a habit of association, like all of my habits.

Tonight’s playlist was called, “I Had to Do It. What Would You Do in a Situation Like That?”

1. Eric Clapton – Layla (acoustic)
2. Elliot Smith – Looking over My Shoulder
3. Sublime – What I Got
4. Brand New – The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot
5. Imogen Heep – Hide and Seek
6. Bright Eyes – Lua
7. Rocky Votolato – Whiskey Straight

Twitter has amused me for the first time today, especially Shit My Dad Says and Gasoline Heart. They make me think I could start a funny one, though I know I could not, probably based more on principle than anything else. If I had one tonight, I would have written:

“Just watched a Chinaman refuse to deliver some chicken fingers to two black guys because they tried to pay with a hundred dollar bill.”

Not too long after, it would have read:

“Life is sharing.”

And now it would read:

“Why is the soup spoon the big one?”

So I can be funny. I can make meaningless observations and have millions love me and follow my tweets. No.

There are people in the hall, as I knew there would be. Maybe tonight will finally be the night that I venture out of my door and hang out with them. There’s something about tonight, a night like this, that makes me want to deny sleep for no logical reason whatsoever. I want to wake up, go to Penn’s Landing, and do my homework there, which is really no work at all. For my “Intro to New Testament” course, I have to read the second half of Mark for Monday and take notes. Should take about an hour, and it should be a good time, though I have trouble following the thought and message of this Gospel more than any of the others.

Lately I’ve been thinking about characters. I have two in mind. One is the Bitter Old Man, who can be quickly identified in roles such as Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino. There is something in his brashness and cynicism that makes me laugh to no end. Bitterness is quite entertaining to me, perhaps because I feel so little of it and it just seems ridiculous. Or perhaps because I feel so much of it and feel unable to express it as freely as they do. I guess this is a question that will need some serious reflection in the future. The other character is one that I have sadly seen around me a number of times, and this one yeilds no entertainment. It is the Angry Pacifist. This person violently opposes violence, hating those who hate. The irony is aparent, and it is the sad hypocrisy of my generation. I have been the Angry Pacifist many times, judging and condemning those who appear to judge and condemn. But as a wise man once said, doctrines are not truly known until they are put into practice. And as the (pacifist) singer said, “I need more grace than I thought.”

The Soup’s Too Cold.

Problems of Interpretation

“Shade blown trees growing in the distance, lining the horizon and glowing the bumble bees springing from the oxygen tanks of the earth. Walking faster, there is a man growing a mustache behind that bush and I don’t like the look of it, bush or stache, too close to tell, but the better answer is that the highbeams are bright and I’m running out of gasoline. The end comes faster now, and the almost there almost higher and faster penguin flies to the top of the mountain just to eat an apple and then falls back down tumbling over the rocks rolling and rolling like a cartoon to create a gigantic snowball out of proportion of the fall and then over the edge to sweet oblivion. The more important of the two, the breaker, is the one that didn’t get the time to walk and dine with each other. He was the dummy and he was the glue that held them together as they trampled down the dinosaurs and covered the books with melted fan.”

These are just words but can you hear them?
Pick up this rambling nonsense
And make elaborate interpretations,
Act like you know what I mean.

But it meant nothing,
Because there was no thought involved;
Just word after word
Of the first random phrase that came to my head.

And yet we “know” for sure
What the writers of the Constitution, Bible, literature, anything meant.

We don’t have a clue.

South Campus Foxes

Outside my window is the faculty parking lot. Across the lot is a patch of woods separating our campus from Ogontz Ave, and in these woods live many foxes. I watch them, each morning and night. I look out my window and they are there, adventuresome and wild, calm and natural. They are one, or two, or five. They are not small and cute, no Disney version of a fox. These are urban foxes that look more like how I imagine a coyote to look, tall and slim. No bushy tails, here.

These foxes like to travel out into the faculty parking lot, lounge there all night, three at a time. Two are standing back towards the trees, one is laying in the middle of the lot, two are coming closer then I’ve ever seen, walking all the way over to the sidewalk, right next to my building. But then a car drives by, and they are running back to the middle of the lot. They are acting differently this year, always showing up like this. A summer without any students has emboldened them. Will they disappear again when everyone returns?

One night, I am at my computer and hear screaming outside. I peek out through the blinds. No, I’m not nosy. It’s my job. I am an RA. I need to make sure everything is OK, right? And all my residents are OK. They have not even moved back yet. The screaming is coming from two foxes, tall, rugged; they are biting at each other, face to face on their hind legs, paws flying everywhere. They stop in mid-snap without warning and go back to sitting next to each other, enjoying the night’s cool breeze as friends who have worked out their differences.

Stripped of their typical habitat, I imagine there is not a lot of food available to these foxes and that is why they are so thin. And yet they are so tall! There are pieces of squirrels here and there. One day, before I got here, Kieran saw them, the whole pack, eating a cat. “It was a remarkable sight,” but it is even more remarkable in my mind. I picture it at night, four or five of them, circled around it, closing in slowly, then all at once jumping towards it and pulling the meat wildly, tossing it in the air and catching it in their mouths as lightning flashes through the air, washing it down with whiskey and cigars, telling a few jokes or talking about deep theology before retiring to bed.

I’ve always known these foxes live here. I saw one freshman year, outside the Communication Center window. It looked more normal then, but it only came out briefly as I was walking between classes. I saw one last year. Didn’t even know it was a fox. Couldn’t tell what it was, soaking wet, that thin tail, and so tall! I was walking back from the Union, and it was walking down the middle of the road, right between the dorm and the baseball field. It disappeared into the Wister Woods on the other side, and it wasn’t until this year, having seen more like this, that I realized it was one of these foxes.

The students are back now. Today was the second day of classes, and I’m already seeing the foxes less. Steph says I have a strange relationship with these foxes, my pets, because they are no pets at all since I have no interaction with them. But I prefer this type of pet. They are completely uninhibited, and no one asserts any dominance over them. Perhaps this is what I like about them so much. Not what they are, but what they represent. They are smart, avoiding unnecesary danger, but they know how to take care of themselves and do what they want. Life is simply a matter of being alive.

Something New

I like new music again! It took about a year since I lost interest, but it seems I’ve finally broken out of this phase. Right now I’m listening to the new As Cities Burn album online, and it sounds like something that I will definitely need to pick up, even if it doesn’t fit into the overly-selective range of music I had limited myself to for the past year. Part of what pulled me back out was that I got the new Emery and Project 86 albums, for old times’ sake, and they are both spectacular. It also helps that the next few records I’m reviewing seem to be pretty good ones too (especially Metavari).

It’s funny, but I think a camping trip that took me through a whole lot of middle-of-nowhere kind of places helped to bring me out of my obsession with folksy-influenced music to also appreciate more electric and “alternative” sounds like Farewell Flight and Modest Mouse.

Also, some recent vinyl finds have led me to two conclusions:
1. I need to work on getting Led Zeppelin’s complete discography.
2. Paul Simon is an incredibly personal and artistic songwriter.

Late Summer Blitz

It’s ben over two months since my last update, which by my standards is a bad thing. Not because this blog is especially important to anyone else or because I have some false sense of making a difference in the world by writing on here, but because it is important to me to get my thoughts out, and as a writer it is good to get as much practice as possible.

Lately I have been working with different sorts of writing, and it has been good for me, but I’ve also slacked off in other areas, such as this blog and music related stuff for IVM.

The biggest thing is leading the Wednesday night study for the college group at Calvary Baptist, the church of my youth. I have stayed connected with the young adults here even after leaving the Sunday services, and this summer we talked through a study I wrote, using Church history as a structure to talk about how we should relate to our culture and how we know what is true. I included a lot of theology, a lot of politics,  history, and churchy-issues, but by the end it seemed the biggest thing everyone came away with was a newfound need to look at the Bible creatively, to see it as a work of art (among other things), and to appreciate it for the depth that lies beyond a quick reading and a literal interpretation. I’m not sure if I had an agenda, but if I did, this certainly wasn’t it, which I guess just goes to show that God is always doing something bigger than what I have planned.

Right now, I am getting caught up on journal entries that will record the events and thoughts of a roadtrip that I just took with Reuben. We were gone for eight days in all, and tonight I finished writing the stories for the fifth day, so I still have a good bit to go. I am enjoying it, because it is forcing me to work with a style I normally avoid: storytelling. I am not a good storyteller in real life, but I’m definitely having fun practicing it in writing and trying to find ways to make it more creative and original. It also helps that I’ve been almost exclusively reading narratives in the Bible lately, which has my mind (and theology) working differently than it did back when I only read the essay-like books.

Last semester I took a short story class in which our teacher always asked the same question of each story: “What aspect of literature is this author best at?” Possible answers include theme, character, mood, plot, setting, etc. So far I’ve realized that I’m probably best at theme, and I’m pretty bad at character, so after this realization I’ve been putting extra work into character development and more in-depth dialogue. Plot seems to be working itself out, but, now that I think about it, setting is almost nonexistent, so I guess I’ll have to start working on that with the remaining three days, which is actually perfect since the beginning of day six is the part of the story that most calls for a detailed description of the setting.

I go back to school in two days, which means that my schedule will be completely different. I will not be too exhausted to read or write after getting back from work, and I will have a lot more free time during those hours that are best for writing, so I should be back on here a lot more regularly.

Until next time, “Dr. Pepper, you make the world taste better.”

Early Summer Blitz

The first two weeks home from school have been a busy time. My last two nights in Philly were somewhat sad ones, as I had just spent finals week doing a lot of bonding with my RA staff. I will and do miss them, and I look forward to going back in August to see them all again when we begin training for the coming school year. I will also miss my friends at The Well, but I will at least have the opportunity to go down and visit some of them throughout the summer.

But as sad as the ending to the school year was, the instant greatness of the summer made up for it as soon as I got to Reading. I arrived Sunday, Mother’s Day, and spent some good time with both families and with Steph. The next day I began work at 1-800-GOT-JUNK?, which was a good sign that I’ll be getting decent hours this summer. While none of my friends from last year have returned, it seems that I will enjoy the company of my new co-workers too.

Then that night I was sitting at home playing cards with my dad and brother when I got a call from my high school friends inviting me to join them at our local hookah lounge, The Pillar. It was perfect, and I could not refuse. It feels really good to have people call you and ask you to hang out when you’ve only been home for one day. The following day I joined these friends again at a bonfire/ camp-out at Jared’s house, which was equally awesome. Summer will be good as long as I’m spending time with these folks.

Summer will also be good as long as I’m spending time with my friends from Calvary Baptist. Even if I’m looking for somewhere else to go on a Sunday morning, I’m also starting to lead the Wednesday night book study in our college group, which looks like it will be going well and I’m excited about that, and I’m enjoying hanging out with Reuben, Dan and the rest.

Of course I got the change to hang out with both groups last summer too, even blending the two groups a bit, making it a really good summer. But I expect this one to be better for a few reasons, especially the fact that Steph will be in Reading! Last summer was fun, but her staying in Philly was kind of rough, and I’m definitely looking forward to not have to deal with that again. She just left on a trip to the Ukraine for two weeks, but I’m excited to be able to do normal day to day things with her in Reading this summer and to include her on all my trips to the Hardbean, the Pillar, Gravity, and elsewhere.

So far, I only have two complaints about this summer. One is that I have some things I want to work on, such as writing for IVM and this blog, but when I get home from throwing junk all day I’m usually too tired, so hopefully I find good time to keep up with writing, especially since I need to practice if I’m going to do this for a living. The other is that my voice is shot right now, which I really can’t complain about at all because it’s from going to a spectacular mewithoutYou show on Saturday night. It was an intense night, and the spiritual element of the music was a meaningful experience for me. It was a good reminder of the value of worshipping God through music, since I’ve been getting less into that part of church life lately.

So summer is looking good. I’m enjoying work, enjoying friends, enjoying life. Hopefully it continues to be this good, with as many cook-outs and bon-fires as possible.

Final thoughts:

1. I just got Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band’s latest album, Outer South, which is even better than the last one. If you like alternative country/ indie folk, go buy this record right now. “Roosevelt Room” is an anthemic highlight.

2. Sometimes it’s a really good idea to talk to people rather than hold things against them, because it may turn out you just misunderstood each other.

3. “God is good/ all the time/ and all the time/ God is good.”

“Better Than I Deserve”

Every Wednesday afternoon I join some other students from La Salle and head down to the St. Francis Inn, a soup kitchen across town in one of our city’s poorest neighborhoods. It’s run by a group of Franciscans, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know the Brothers and Sisters there over the past year. Last week, I walked up to the counter to get some food for the guests at my table, where Father Bill was dishing out more bowls of chili. Father Bill is probably in his eighties, although I’m not sure how long he’s been a priest or how long he’s been working at the Inn.

When I asked him how he was, he replied with a smile, “I am doing better than I deserve.” Another volunteer was noticeably confused by this answer, and Father Bill explained, “That’s my first prayer every morning: ‘God, don’t give me what I deserve,’ because I know I’m in deep doo-doo if He ever starts doing that!”

Here was a person who is by society’s usual standards a pretty good guy. Not only has he devoted his life to serving the poor and hungry, he’s also a clergyman who helps guide people to God. Yet he still considers himself in danger if he ever gets what he deserves, because the cheerful and compassionate man I know is someone who understands the weight of his sin. His humility is an inspiration, and something that I would definitely do well to learn from.

“The Text Message,” A Work of Fiction

“Dou-duu!”

He was getting ready for class, brushing his teeth when he heard his cell phone, in the next room, alerting him of a text message. It was 9:30AM.

I’m busy, he thought. It is morning, after all. Why would someone be texting me? What could be so important? I wish I could just get rid of that damn thing.

And then he caught it, his bad attitude, and the fact that it all pointed towards one thing: Why don’t people just leave me alone?

The real irony here lies, of course, in the fact that the night before he had been sitting alone in his dorm room complaining (on the phone, incidentally) that he has no real friends. He didn’t say it outright, but deep down he knew that’s what he was getting at. He had friends, sure, but no real friends. So he complained about his loneliness, the fact that no one understands him, no one appreciates him, and so on and so on. In a word, his isolation.

His generation is totally united in their isolation. It’s about the only thing these college students share in common in a culture of unending choices that only serve to further withdraw them away from others, keeping their lives at a superficial level. And they know it. They astutely blame it on their TVs, their computers, their phones. But they could never do without these drugs of technology, their precious scapegoats, because to give them up would force them to deal with even greater issues than an addiction to flashy screens and useless information.

So they continue to text each other, for fear of having a more meaningful interaction through an actual call or a face to face conversation. They avoid truly knowing others for fear of uncovering the plastic persona they’ve painted so well on all the social networking sites. They expose everything about themselves, giving every last detail, except for the things that actually matter. All this work, for fear of discovering who they really are. For fear of having to think, for fear of being alone with their thoughts, for fear of not being a celebrity, not being the best, not being as incredibly special as their parents always told them they were, for fear of, for fear of, for fear of, fear of, for fear, fear, fear fear, fear….

This was why he was so alone. Because he hated his cell phone.

This was why he hated his cell phone. Because he wanted to be alone.

After rinsing and putting back his toothbrush, he checked the text message, realizing for the first time that the isolation was not technology’s fault or the culture’s fault or other people’s fault; it was his fault. He was the one who had retreated, who had carefully kept others away.

“Hey, wanna get lunch after class today?”

“Can’t. I’m busy.”

Holy Week: A Recap

It seems I failed at my promise to bring continual thoughts during Lent and Easter. In truth, my experience this year wasn’t quite as full and meaningdul as I’d hoped for, which I guess makes sense for a first-timer who has no idea what he’s doing and isn’t really giving a complete effort anyway.  Still, there were some things that came up this past weekend, but in the business of the holiday I didn’t take the time to post my thoughts, so I will condense them into one post here, as a recap of Holy Week.

While my own church did not have a Maundy Thursday service, I did some reading on what the night is all about. In this reading, I learned two important things about why this night can be helpful in a fuller understanding of Easter. The first is that the word Maundy comes from the Latin for “command.” This is the night of the Last Supper, where Jesus gave the disciples a new command, to love one another. Here many congregations have a ritual footwashing to remind us that we are called to humbly serve each other out of love. The other important thing is that according to the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus’ last meal with his disciples was actually the Passover meal, and with that as a first thought, the rest of Easter becomes much more profound, since it sits as a reminder that Jesus is our Paschal Lamb.

My own experience began with an elaborate and memorable Good Friday service at my church where we had different people give reflections on ten of the stations of the cross. Personally, I would have liked to see all fourteen, but it was still a thoughtful and meaningful night, and I believe I saw more than one person cry during their look at the crucifixion. It still hasn’t really hit me what it must have been like for him. Traditional church teaching says Jesus is both fully God and fully human, but when it comes to the Cross, I’ve always had trouble figuring out how that works, so I’ve oversimplified it in my head and stripped it of all its power. May God continue to open my eyes to God’s true Word, Jesus Christ.

The thing that stuck with me most this night was actually not a part of the service. There’s a train line that runs directly behind our building, and while one of our speakers was talking about Jesus on the cross, a train went past. It seemed so out of place. Here was the Son of God being tortured and executed, and yet a train goes by. People don’t stop. They continue on their way, oblivious to what’s going on inside. And then I realized it did fit, because it gave a fuller picture of that day. The Empire didn’t stop for Jesus. Life went on, and all around the world no one had any idea what was happening. And 2000 years later, I’m still not sure we have a clue what happened. Today the Empire doesn’t stop for Jesus either, and even the closest of disciples continue to desert their Rabbi from time to time.

I feel like I should add something about Easter, but I don’t really have anything meaningful to say. But there are future years, Lord willing, and I will maybe add reflections then. For now, it’s back to my usual post about whatever I’m learning or thinking about, although I’m considering broadening my topical scope. So perhaps some new thoughts and even some new categories or new ways of posting in the future. We’ll see. I’m feeling a little bland lately, so pushing myself to do something more creative might be just what I need.