right Brained, Left Thinking

The Scottish Sense of Humor

2008-02-14T05:02:00.000-08:00

Of any place I've ever been in, Scotland has perhaps the best grasp on it's history. Unlike some places, they don't simply treat every little site as worthy of massive memorials, even when the event in question is massively important to their history.

For instance, two rather important things in Scots history are John Knox and the Act of Union, uniting Scotland and England.

For rather obvious reasons, the Scots are rather ashamed of these two. The Act of Union, because....well, Rabbie Burns says it best...

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame
Fareweel our ancient glory
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name
Sae famed in martial story
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands
An' Tweed rins to the ocean
To mark where England's province stands
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation

What force or guile could not subdue
Thro' many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor's wages
The English steel we could disdain
Secure in valors station;
But English gold has been our bane-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation

O, would, or had I seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration-
"We were bought and sold for English gold"
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation

And they don't like Knox....well, because he was a tit. Seriously, a absolute pompous, bloviating, Fundamentalist maroon.

So, how do the Scots honor these two?

Well, the spot where the finally signature was put on the act of union (the signators were moving about because a crowd of Edinburgh citizens were chasing them up and down the Royal mile, with murder in their hearts) is currently the ladies toilet in an Italian restaurant.

And John Knox?

His grave is spot #23 in the Old Parliment building's parking lot.

I really, really love this country.

A moment of your time..

2008-02-06T04:56:00.000-08:00

Interesting things from the net.

the foodstamp challenge: http://foodstampchallenge.typepad.com/

This is a challenge to live for one week, on $21, the amount of money that the foodstamp program provides.

There are, undoubtedly, those who will claim that "They lived quite well on twenty-one dollars a week when they were growing up!"]

Unfortunately, inflation and devaluation have taken their toll.

This is a problem I've found myself facing recently. You see, I'm spending a semester studying at Edinburgh University, where my dollar is only a half pound. And there is no such thing as a meal plan, you buy and cook your own food.

This has lead the other 7 americans and myself to band together, each kick in 20 quid a week and buy food for all eight of us. Now, this is the UK, and organic, fresh produce is readily availible, and even cheaper, in some cases, than the other stuff. And its still horribly expensive to eat. Whats more, we have two or three hours to wander around the store and pick the best deals, a luxury that a poor single parent running from one job to the other notably does NOT have.

So for those who have their doubts about the effectiveness of welfare, and the easy life of a so called "welfare queen" who "spend their money on booze," then take the challenge.

Piper at the Gates of Dawn

2008-02-04T05:10:00.000-08:00

Have you ever heard the bagpipes? Not just on a recording, but in person? And most especially up close?

There is a sort of vague impression of the bagpipes as meloncholy because come evening the noise can be heard drifting in over the hills and glens.

Yeah, it drifts over hill and glen because they are friggin' loud. Jet airplane loud. Punk Rock show loud. Angry Irish wife loud.

Loud.

The story behind this is my first upclose and personal with the 'pipes. Backstory? Of course.

One friday night about two weeks ago, as is the custom in the wretched hive of scum and villiany (otherwise known as Kitchner House) we had gathered in the upstairs kitchen for an evening of light entertainment. Pepsi and Orange juice were consumed, along with pate and french bread (one of the simplest and best meals I've had in long time.) Anyway, round about that magical time of night when its more morning than night but you just can't bring yourself to admit it, we were listening to Scottish music (you HAVEN'T heard I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) until you've heard "I will walk 500 miles" bellowed by about ten very proud Scotsmen.) One of the lads tapped me on the shoulder and said (well, bellowed) "Ross'll be coming in with the bagpipes in a second!" Being extremely...tired at this point, I assumed he meant that the song had a piping bit.

About twenty seconds later, the kitchen door swings open to reveal Ross, whose name, in a flash of brilliance, extrapolated from the set of pipes almost the same size as him. At this point, all the Americans let out a collective gasp of wonder and joy. The pipes were tuned (a ghastly noise) and then Ross lit into "scotland the brave." (a modern version can be heard here- http://youtube.com/watch?v=KK6jHFezO_8 )

Pipers are impressive in the open air. In a 20x10 kitchen at 4:30 in the AbygodM they are...mindshattering. "Loud 'n proud 'n bowld" as the Scots saying goes.

Which all goes by way of saying One) if anyone offers to pipe for you, open a window lest you end up bleeding from the ears. Two) Bagpipes are awesome, and Three) I found a set of miniature pipes I might send home to my baby sister.

That ok with you, mom?

Edinburgh

2008-01-22T05:30:00.000-08:00

Spent Sunday exploring the city. Fantastic place, seems as old as the hills in some places, and fresh as tomorrow in others. (my apologies, by the way, if all of the imagery in this post is that bad. It's been a long couple of days)

Anyway, my friend and I decided to wander up to the castle, through the Royal Mile. For those who aren't up on the specifics of Scottish cartography, the Royal Mile is the main street of Edinburgh, called the Royal Mile because at one end is Edinburgh Castle, and at the other is Holyrood (pronounced just like it's spelled) House, the main palace.

We decided to go the the Castle. The walk through the Royal mile is gorgeous, albeit filled with tourist traps. Lots and lots of tourist traps, filled with cheap kilts, and with the bagpipe music cranked up. Trust me, any possible travelers, get away from the Royal Mile as quickly as possible. You won't find anything there that you can't find anywhere else twice as good and twice as cheap.

Still, wandering along the Mile was fun, and, hey, if you don't fall into a few traps, then whats the fun of being a tourist? There are all the usual things you expect along heavily touristed areas...for instance, the man (who looked disturbingly like Mel Gibson) posing as William Wallace for the tourists. The castle itself, however, is so old and grand, that any attempt to touristy it up would just look cheap and really stupid. Fortunately, whoever is in charge of these things knows that as well and is more than smart enough to leave well enough alone. Anyway, just wandering around the castle takes several hours. We decided to start from the top and work our way down.

Now, those of you who are opposed to full on history-geek mode, might want to skip these next few bits, and go to the end, where I will be discussing accents. Edinburgh Castle isn't just old. It's frigging ancient. And that's by my standards, the Greek-Rome scholar standards. It's huge, blocky, and real. This isn't some fairy tale, 1800's rich man's folly filled with turrets and spires. This castle was designed for battles. You want pretty little spires and kings and queens in funny hats, it's only a mile to Holyrood.

Speaking of funny hats, the single coolest thing there, was the Scottish Crown jewels. A Sword, A Scepter, A Crown and a Stone to be precise. The Sword was a gift from the pope, the scepter was (if I recall correctly) from when wayyyyy back when the Scots and the Picts got together, the stone is the traditional place of crowning the kings, and the crown...well supposedly part of it is from the original circlet that Robert the Bruce wore. They were presumed lost until none other that Sir Walter Scott rediscovered them. Imagine, americans, that the Declaration of independence, orignal copy of the Constitution, Mount Vernon, and the White House had all been missing for 111 years, and then someone found them. You'd build them Scott's monument too.

Anyway, for my friend, who has a wee obsession with royalty (not really my cup of tea, as I will explain some other time.) the room where Mary Queen of Scots stayed was the coolest bit. As were all the pictures of James VI and I. (That little scumsucker Weldon (yes, I do get passionate about things that happened in the 1600's. HISTORY MAJOR. Jesus, people do I have to etch it in stone?) was full of crap about him, by the way)

There are also some other cool things, like the fact that several royal regiments are based here, and so there are wonderful little nooks to go and study their history. Yes, I know that "little nooks to go and study their history" has a technical term attached to it. I just can't spell it right now and I'm too lazy to look it up. Starts with M ends with M. Anyway, they have things in there that make my little history mind jump up and down. Like the flag captured from Napoleon's OWN REGIMENT.

Anyway, can't reccomend the place highly enough. I'll turn off the history geek now.

Accents! More specifically, MY accent. I've always picked up accents fantastically quickly. Put me in Georgia for ten minutes, and most people would swear I was born on the banks of the Chattahoochee. The only problem so far is, while surrounded with scottish people, I've also been hanging out quite a bit with a couple Irish people. I don't quite know what I'm developing, but it's interesting. And more than likely, given the almost fetishistic fascination some american women have with Celtic boys, incredibly sexy.

Anyway, have fun. Reports soon....Burns night is this Friday, so I will try to update on Sunday...when I wake up.

Loch Lomond

2008-01-18T04:31:00.000-08:00

Sorry this is later than I planned, lads and lassies.

So, the Loch Lomond trip. The day started off well, with everyone else in the group, save me, deciding that going off the night before and getting completely pissed was a good idea. So, since the bus leaves at 10 AM, and it is an 45 minute walk to the main campus, we should be up by eight, gone at nine. Guess who was still asleep at 9 am? Everyone. Finally, we got a taxi, and arrived just in time.

It's about two hours from Edinburgh to the Loch. This is two hours through some of the most astonishing gorgeous countryside I've ever seen. America, give up now. I've never seen anything like it. I've traveled through upstate NY, the Carolinas, Georgia, Maine, New England and everywhere in between, and this is the most beautiful countryside I've ever seen.

First getting to the loch is a bit startling. It's a national park, so it's built up, with a nice, if rather expensive, shopping center front and center. Going through this, you see the Loch for the first time. And at first, it's not impressive. But then, you come around the bend in the path, and you see the body of the lake, spread out before you. Shrouded in fog, with the far banks looking like a fairy world, and a town, wavering delicately in and out of sight. If any of you every wondered why this country produced people like David Hume, Adam Smith, James Connolly, Mark Knopfler, James VI and I, John Knox, Walter Scott, George Macdonald, A.A. Milne, Robert Louis Stevenson and Rabbie Burns, then you don't have too any longer. Stay too long in this climate, gaze too long at this scenery, and you'll turn into a poet sure as god made little green apples. No wonder this country produces such a disporportunate percentage of writers, poets, and scientists.

There is, among other attractions, a lovely little castle, set up by some early eighteenth century lord. Lucky bastard got to live there. To anyone who might be going there-when you first enter the park, you walk a bit, taking the main path. It will look like you are going into town. Cross over the bridge, and you're back in the park though. There is a point where the main path splits, and you can either go over field and fen, then up to the castle, or go along hugging the shore of the loch. What I did was stick with the loch, then cross over (wear waterproof boots or shoes.)If the fog is thick enough, you can't see the castle, until you're headed up the hill. My advice for a a good view, there is a small, paved path leading to the left of the castle (as you are facing it. There is a tree on one side, and a tree stump on the other. Stand on the stump, and you get a fan-tas-tic view of the loch, virtually unobstructed. I spent some time wandering about the lovely gardens, but most looking at the loch. My advice-pack a lunch, sit on the hill, or the stump and just look. It's worth it.

This weekend-exploring Edinburgh! Posts to follow!

SCOTLAND!

2008-01-09T05:32:00.001-08:00

Update from Scotland:

We landed at Gatwick about 6:30 local, on the 2nd of January. We then proceded to stand in line in this horrible que for about an hour, with me hauling my girlfriends horribly heavy baggage over hill and over dale. THEN I got singled out for special quizzing by the security people, followed by being singled out for the shoe scan. Apparently the 6' 1" unshaved american with the leather jacket looked suspicious.

We then hung around, converted some money, and finally got on ANOTHER flight to Scotland. Landing in Glasgow, after a freakishly long and miserable flight, we go to reclaim our bags, only to discover that my friend Laura(http://willyougolassiego.blogspot.com/) was missing her baggage. So we tracked that down, and went to get a taxi. The original plan was: taxi to train, train to Edinburgh, taxi to hostel. The guy heard us discussing this, said for �15 each he'd take us the whole way. Later we calculated that with the amount of baggage, it would have cost us nearly �25 to go with the original plan.

So, we're exhausted, haven't slept, eaten, severe jet lag, and it's only six PM. So we decide to head out and and find a pub for somehing to eat, since we can't go to sleep right away. So we are wandering about, when what should we discover but a carnival! Apparently the last night of Hogmanay there is a big carnival. So we wandered around, ate carnie food, and discovered how the money works.

Our first sight of Edinburgh was at night, lit with Christmas lights, in the middle of a huge party. Never say that Scotland doesn't know how to say hello. We wandered across the bridge to the other side of the central train station and turned around.

This place has the most stunning skyline in the world. On the right; Edinburgh castle, followed by St. Killian's Cathedral, assorted "smaller" cathedrals and churches, and most amazing of all, the Scott Memorial. I gotta say, this puts the Washington monument to shame. Not in size, but because it looks like a beautiful gothic spire taken off of Westminster abbey and stuck in the middle of town.

Thursday we went out for breakfast, then decided to head out to the main University check in point to make sure everything was in order. We decided to walk. THREE HOURS LATER we decided we were lost and decided to walk back.

OH! We had snow too. Not little flurries, but BIG FRICKIN' flakes. With strong winds. AND those little flakes that sting. All while rambling around Edinburgh. Actually, with the layering, the light jacket I had was more than enough.The only bits of me at all cold were head and hands. Since I didn't have gloves or a hat, my hair got all snowy and wet (although, I must say, I will look rather dashing when I get old, assuming I don't bald) and my hands were chilly, but I was surprisingly comfy. Moral, always layer.

Friday, we mostly stayed in, only venturing out for dinner. We went to a little hole in the wall diner. Oh, next time you get fish and chips: vinegar and salt. A pox upon ketchup!

Trips to the store have been very comforting. Basically, although the pound is almost 2-1, everything (or at least the staples) is about half numerically. Also, the places were were at was basically an in-city 7-11, so things are more expensive there. Our dorm is across from a standard grocery store so things should be cheaper. Also, shopping in bulk. However, that term "in bulk " is a bit misleading. More like, lots-of-small-packages-that-are-cheap-cuz-scots-aren't-fat-americans.

School has started since then. Classes look fascinating! I've sucessfully rearranged my classes so that I only have class Monday and thursday, WOOHOO! I've met some interesting people here. However, this week has been astonishingly busy with the first week of classes, so little more to report.

I'm really not sure how they are going to get me back from this country. It's fantasic. At thats only the running-around-the-city-dealing-with-red-tape bits. This weekend there is an excursion to Loch Lomond (yes, the one from the song) so I should return with stories.

Also, one last note. Any readers: quick, cheap, decent, easy to make recipies would be much appreciated. We are doing group dinners, so anything to add to the mix will be welcome!

Cheers,

Cary

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2007-12-31T21:42:00.000-08:00

It's that time, finally.

I'm going to Scotland! It's going to be the most amazing experience ever.

And I still can't quite believe it's happening!

So watch this space...as my offical blog I'll use this space to record the trip.

So theological musings, AND a travel blog. If I get a sprite comic I will be the ultimate cliche.

By the way- my friend Laura Rose is also chronicling her trip to Scotland; her blog's URL is: http://willyougolassiego.blogspot.com/

So goodbye to the US, hello to the world. It's one of those moments. Half joyful, half tears.

But that's the Celtic story, isn't it?

And because I can't resist...
"O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye."

First Amendment? We Don't Need No Stinkin' First Amendment!

2007-11-06T18:10:00.000-08:00

http://www.suntimes.com/news/education/636714,CST-NWS-protest06.article

Twenty-five students who staged an anti-war protest at Morton West High School in Berwyn last week have been punished, including 10-day suspensions and possible expulsions.

Parents of some suspended students are outraged, saying school officials went too far. They plan to meet at the high school today and demand the students be returned to class.

"This is about freedom of speech," said Adam Szwarek, father of a sophomore who was suspended after the sit-in last Thursday. Szwarek says his son now faces an expulsion hearing. "There has to be consequences, but 10-day [suspensions]?"

Let's see, where to start? First, of course, the school never should have overreacted. Quite frankly, the school system has a point when they say. The Superintendent says "I want to stress that this action has only to do with the students' disruption of the educational process."
Very nice, but this is, to use the vernacular, bull. We have little problem interupting the students, or at least we did when I was in school. School "Spirit" days, assembilies. We had time to bring in blatently religious orginizations to talk to us about how condoms don't prevent the spread of aids and didn't really work. We had time for my Sex Ed. teacher to talk to everyone about her church.

I can't count the number of times I was pulled out of pshychology, pre-calc, or AP US history to go to an assembly. Now, folks, this is HIGH SCHOOL! This isn't college. As a matter of fact, no self-respecting college would hold spirit rallies or any of that during class hours.

But high schools do. And I'll bet every dime I have that this high school did. But that doesn't matter to them. All that matters to them is that these students were a disruption. And what is different about these students? They were protesting the war.

Perhaps even more basic than that.

They were protesting.

What makes this even worse is that these types of students; the involved, the dedicated, those willing to risk punishment for what they believe in (and let me make this clear, I include students protesting anything: abortion, the war, the cover-up of the Lincoln assaination etc.) are far more likely to suceede in life. Far more likely to go to a good college, be active in the community, and actually make a difference in this cold, cold world.

But this school doesn't care. And they decided that, rather than standing up and celebrating the fact that they had students that cared, that were dedicated, that were trying instead of simply keeping on, they would decide to attempt to expel these students.

Let me repeat that. Among constant complaints that our students are trying, that our schools are falling apart, that our students are dropping out, this school district decides to kick out the ones who care and get involved. Oh, and they called the cops.

But just as depressing as that is the parents reactions. ""There has to be consequences???" Really, sir? For what? For protesting? Stand up for your children for the love of God!

This isn't the only recent event like this. Hannah Lindquist 14, who goes to Tri-Valley Central School in Grahamsville, N.Y. has been staging protests regarding her school banning the carrying of backpacks and bags. Realizing that this would prevent girls from carrying pads or tampons, so they decided that girls would be allowed to carry bags, but only during their periods. And that any girl carrying a bag would be quizzed on if she was actually on her period. She started protesting, with many of her fellow students and:

The small Sullivan County school has been in an uproar for the last week. Girls have worn tampons on their clothes in protest, and purses made out of tampon boxes. Some boys wore maxi-pads stuck to their shirts in support.
After hearing that someone might have been suspended for the protest, freshman Hannah Lindquist, 14, went to talk to Worden. She wore her protest necklace, an OB tampon box on a piece of yarn. She said Worden confiscated it, talked to her about the code of conduct and the backpack rule — and told her she was now "part of the problem."

This is a disturbing trend. Schools should exist to educate, yes. But they should also strive to make good citzens. And these schools have failed in that. They have served only in one thing: to teach their students that their protests, their opinions, are not only without merit, but they are dangerous and will only result in punishment.

And you wonder how Bush got elected?

Next time: Parents. Capable or Culpable?

The Apocalypse of Judas

2007-11-04T22:41:00.000-08:00

Seen the arrow on the doorpost
Saying, "This land is condemned
All the way from New Orleans
to Jerusalem."

Bob Dylan
"Blind Willie McTell"

(Editors note: The following was found recently, buried in the Temple Mount. It is believed to be a fragment of a much longer work. Although not verified, it appears to be the work of the Apostle Judas, written just before his death.)

…In the end, it came. Inexorable as the tide, final as the grave. He who triumphed over death had returned. From his mouth preceded the word, and the world bowed at the feet of the Lamb. In the end, he gathered them before the throne of His Father, whose glory shone like a thousand suns, and upon whose face none could look.
And on his left he placed the damned, and on the right, the blessed. And I saw with amazement, that those upon his right were bruised and bloody, their clothes torn and their eyes tearful. And those upon the left were clean, untouched by bruise or pain, dressed in robes of spotless white. Then the Lord spoke to those upon his right, and his words were like sweet honey, saying: "Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I hungered and you gave me to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you cared for me, I was in prison and you came to me."
Then those righteous answered him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you to drink? When did we see you a stranger and take you in, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
Then the Lord replied, saying, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these Lambs of mine, you did for me.'
Then he spoke to those upon his left, and his voice was like a lash of scorpions saying, "Depart from my presence, ye who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not take me in, I was naked and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not care for me."
And they wept, tearing their clothes crying, 'Lord, Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
And the Lamb replied, his face terrible as a thundercloud, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of my Lambs, you did not do for me.'
Then from the ranks of the damned a voice cried out, "Lord, Lord, I see those blessed upon your right, and I see there those who did not worship you! I see among the ranks of the blessed those who worshiped idols, those who worshiped devils and never took your name. And I see there those who were never washed in your blood. And yet here I stand, Lord, washed in your blood, hallowed in your name. I worshiped you my entire life, yet stand condemned before your throne. How is this, Lord?"
At the same time from those gathered on the right, one crept forward and threw himself at the feet of the Lord; crying "Lord, Lord! I am not worthy of salvation! I strove my entire life to help your Lambs. I tried to bring light to the world, but could not light a single candle in the darkness. I strove to help the weak, yet my voice was lost to the storm of hate and fear. I confess that I have failed you, Lord, and I am not worthy of your Grace, for I could not help even of your lambs."
The again the first spoke saying, "Lord, I gave to Your Holy church. Lord, I worshiped you, praised your name and preached your gospel to all I saw. Why am I condemned? Look at my robes! They are spotless, free of sin and stain. And look at those bloody, dirty souls who never once prayed to you, but gave their love to alien Gods. Why should they be saved?"
And the Lord again spoke, saying "Silence, Imp of Satan! How did you praise my name? It was often on your lips, but never in your heart. Never in prayer, but in my Name you issued pleas to deprive the widows of their last mite! When you spread my Word, it was not with My love, but with hate, saying that all who questioned you were damned. When the poorest of my lambs crept into your country, hoping for a better life, you expelled them, threw them into jail, and used them as slaves, in my name. When you saw my beloved children who followed a different path, you preached hatred for them, in My Holy Name. When those who did not love as you wished to be bound to their partners, you cast them as demons, denied them as I created them in their mother’s womb, forced them into a life that was a lie, and denied them the sacrament of marriage, in the name of my Gospel. You condemned many upon my right as damned beyond salvation, in my Name. Worst of all, you took my Gospel of love and hope, and used it to spread your hatred and bigotry. Leave my sight forever. I never knew you, and I deny you before my father."
As he spoke the last, the wretched soul was hurled into the pit, lost forever to our eyes.
Then he turned to the second speaker saying; "Do not weep, my beloved. It is true; you could not change the world. You could do almost nothing, and you could not give as much to my service as you wished. That which you could give, seems to you to have been wasted. No one saw your toils, and they changed nothing. But I saw, my child. I saw your struggles to help my beloved, to help the weakest among my children. Wear your bruises and tears with pride, for they are the symbol of a life in my service, the bruises upon your heart, upon your soul, from when saw how much pain there was to change. And in your darkest hours, you lifted your eyes to me, and crying, said "Lord, please, give me the strength to change one thing." I did not answer, and you thought I had abandoned you. In the end, you toiled on alone. You worked, not for your salvation, but for love of my children. And for that you are rewarded. Enter now into my kingdom, for the love you showed to the least of mine."
Then again from the damned a soul spoke up saying, "Lord, I understand why you condemned the other. But why me, Lord? I worshiped you. I never condemned your children; I never made the world worse. I sought only to live and let live. Why then, have you damned me?"
And the Lord rose, and his face was terrible to behold, as he roared; "Leave my sight! There is none worse then those who do not even try, those who simply pass by life. At least that other tried to change the world! For evil, it is true, but he tried to make a change. You saw the suffering of my Children, slaving in the outhouses, and you not only ignored their plight, but you continued to support their masters, for it was their "right" to do what they chose, as long as it was within the letter of the law! You saw my creation being destroyed, but did nothing to cause change, reasoning that there was nothing you could do, so you might as well not even try! Saw my children slaughtered, and starving, and turned away, reasoning that your voice was only one in a wilderness, and that your one small voice could not change anything. Viper! You saw the pain in the world, and you reasoned it was so great, that your small efforts could cause no change! You let my children be led into war by vicious leaders and did not speak out in rage, reasoning that your voice would not be missed, that there would be others enough. You saw my children in the Kingdom of Babylon slaughtered by your country, and you did not speak out, thinking that they should be punished for the crimes of a few among them! You have not acted for evil, but you let evil leave you silent. And evil took your silence for complicity and kept on. And you dare to be enraged at My judgment! Truly is it said that hell hath no fury like the uninvolved! Begone into hell!"
And then, the damned spoke as one, saying…
(It is at this point that the papyrus ends. This sole fragment, however, is sure to cause a great upheaval among the Christian church. As perhaps it should. Selah.)

Book of Faith

2007-11-04T20:10:00.000-08:00

I had the chance to read an absolutely magnificent book this week. The Alphabet of Grace by Frederick Buechner, probably one of the best little books I've ever read.

It is this; it's littleness and it's lack of presumption, that makes it so grand. We gain our theology in great swigs: from our parents, from our preachers, and from the great deeds of people we sanctify (in one regard or another.) But that isn't faith. Although we may be inspired by a Mother Teresa or an Saint Augustine, that isn't the core of grace.

Nor is the heart of faith in the most saleable aspect of religion; the great moment of conversion. The Slacktivist (slacktivist.typepad.com) describes these moments far better than I ever could, but they still aren't the heart of what faith means. As a matter of fact, the moment of conversion, whether my personal favorite, Anne Lamott's ("I hung my head and said, "Fuck it: I quit." I took a long deep breath and said out loud, "All right. You can come in.") or perhaps more simple, Pascal's ("Fire. Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy.") all have one thing in common. They are the moment (perhaps the only moment) of complete and total realization of the existance of God. The one moment, blinding in it's glory and it's simplicity, where we see beyond the curtain.
But that's a topic for later.
The conversion moment, and for the fortunate, one or two more moments in a lifetime, are moments of complete certainty. Faith is the rest of life. Faith is the great sustainer.

And that is what Buechner gives us. A portrait of one man's faith. Not the faith of the great men and women on the front lines (although the diary of Mother Teresa shows that even their faith is not unshakeable) but of one small man who questions everything in his world, including his God.

The reason this is such a magnificent book is that faith does not express itself in the great and glorious. It is in the small graces of everyday life. Children, loved ones.

But perhaps it is something quintessentially American, or merely the human, but not many of us are capable of this. In a bit of a paradox, it can be easier to take a stand as a martyr or great man of faith than it can be to simply live day to day, loving and being, giving thanks for what we have. Not the man fighting for the homeless, but the poor schlub dolling out the soup.

Or as Buechner puts it:

"My interlocutor is a student who under various names and in various transparent disguises has attended all the religion classes I have ever taught and listened to all my sermons and read every word I've ever written, published and unpublished, including diaries and letters. He is on the thin side, dark, brighter than I am and knows it. He is without either guile or mercy. ...
The interlocutor speaks. He is sitting at the opposite end of the Harkness table where I teach, as if to raise the question which is the head of this table and which is the foot. He tips back his chair. "You mean you think you should be down there in the thick of it, right? Salving your conscience in one of the more plausible ghettos? Slogging it out beside Spock and Coffin. Marching on the Pentagon. Delivering turkeys at Christmastime. The trouble is you don't have the face for it, sir. You don't have either the face for it or the guts for it. If you ever left this room and entered the real war, you know what you'd end up doing, don't you?"
I know, of course, but I shake my head. I would rather have him be the one to say it.
"You'd end up rolling bandages," he says.
"Maybe I should be rolling bandages," I say."

That is the Id of faith. The Alpha and the Omega of faith.

You can fight the big fights, and get all the glory here. But the people who receive grace, the people of God, are those who have the faith to keep slugging it out, without the accolades of the world, and in the face of a distant a seemingly unloving God. Because faith doesn't need big shiny medals, or even a little voice in the back of your mind patting you on the back. Faith simply is.

And faith rolls the damn bandages.

First time

2007-11-03T11:31:00.001-07:00

Hello world!

I, like everyone else on the friggin' web, have started a blog. Now my thoughts, dreams, aspirations, and random musings are free for the world to see.

Like the title says. I'm right-brained.

basically:

Right Brain:
Random
Intuitive
Holistic
Synthesizing
Subjective

That's me, a highly creative leftist who loves to write.

More on this as events warrent.

I figure I will try to post about once a day. Like other blogs I love to read, I'll try to dig up a list of links, and regular and semi-regular topics to post on. I figure theology, Eschatology, Axiology, and maybe even Proctology.

Anyway, until I figure this out....

-Peace, love and Chicken Grease