Tornado Alley

Growing up in Kansas I became accustomed to that Rite of Spring known as Tornado Season. Beginning in late March as the Frosty Arctic Chill would begin its thaw in favor of the warm, gentle southern breeze (Kansas is roughly translated as “people of the south wind’), the local stations would pepper the airwaves with ominous warnings regarding the fury of nature that has an affinity for wreaking havoc upon trailer parks and empty prairies. With each gathering storm my mother would be glued to the TV waiting for any signs of danger so she could scoop up the kids and hide us in the basement. And with good reason.

Tornadoes are not pleasant, despite the excitement one gets when seeing one on TV. The town I grew up in never had a direct hit, but we have been in the path of several, only to have them change direction moments before entering the city limits. This was in 1991, when that tornado destroyed the town of Andover just ten miles away and produced this memorable video. I watched it roll by from my back porch. I’ve had to huddle in tiny closets, mall bathrooms, and once in a Borders Books break room as the sirens glared.

My father lived through the worst tornado disaster in Kansas’s history (see photo). On March 25, 1955 at 10:35 pm, a tornado ripped through and demolished the small Kansas town of Udall. The surrounding area had experienced some bad weather, but the local news had stated that all was pretty clear by 10:00 pm, so the residences of Udall went to bed without proper warning. The result was 77 people dead and a town destroyed. My father recalls his mother forcing him from bed just moments from impact and as he was trudging down the stairs his bed started hopping after him.

And now we have the latest one to strike a Kansas town. Greensburg, alone out there on the open prairie, and vulnerable to the elements. Here’s to a speedy recovery.

MM

Reason # 152 We'll be Moving Back: That's Are-Can-Sussss

Did you know how to pronounce The Arkansas River? In the 49 states other than Kansas it is pronounced just like President Bubba's homestate. But in Kansas, since we suffer from some sort of delusional impairment regarding proper pronunciation, the windy river is pronounced R-(the state of) Kansas. That's right. There's no "saw" on the end. It's more like a "sus" as in "versus". When travelling through the South Central region of the state, be sure not to pronounce it like that other state or you maybe chased out of town by a posse bent on revenge for your audacity.

What the H**L?

I mean, come on! I haven't blogged since March. And looking through the posts, I write a lot about not blogging. I even had a re-launch which fizzled. Not good. So, gentle readers, I'm asking you, in that time-honored Methodist fashion, to hold me accountable to the blog. Write Congress, call the police, smear me on the tabloids if I don't blog at least, let's see, once a week. I challenge you just as I challenge myself.

Pax,

MM

March Zaniness

Ok, so far I've filled out at least 252 NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament Brackets. I have some with crazy upsets and others with dull predictions. Despite discretions in the early rounds, my Final Four is always consistent, Florida, Kansas, Georgetown, Texas A&M. Kansas, of course, always beats Georgetown in the final. Hailing from Kansas and currently living in D.C. basically means I'm letting my regional bias get the better of me. Then again I always do that, except, as I recall, in 1988 when I picked OU to win it all. You'd think I'd learn. Maybe I should try to predict when my Bracket will get totally blown? Anyway, good Luck everybody! Oh, and Rock Chalk Jayhawk!

Marty's Big Night and Other Oscar Predictions

Tomorrow night Marty will finally win the little golden statuette that has eluded him oh these many years. He will leave behind those legends behind the camera who failed to win, including Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kubrick, and the recently departed Robert Altman, and finally join the ranks of such cinematic geniuses as Ron Howard and Mel Gibson. In other words, does Marty really need Oscar to validate his career? Certainly not, given that winning won't make him any better than he already is on Monday, but given his past egregious snubs (namely Raging Bull & Goodfellas) a win on Sunday would hopefully make up for some of the cinematic sins of the Academy.

However, The Departed will not win Best Picture. That honor will go to this year's little VW that could Little Miss Sunshine. That's right, early favorite Babel will prove incomprehinsible enough to not win the top prize (a warning, however, Babel is the only BP nom I haven't seen. The same thing happened last year when Crash won and that was the only one I hadn't seen either, though I did predict it to beat out Brokeback Mountain.)

For some of the bigger awards, the following will most definitely be true. In Best Actor, though I haven't seen any of the films, I'm going with what everyone else is saying and pick Forest Whitaker. Having not seen any of the films does not disqualify one's judgment. After all, Academy voters don't have to see any of the films either.

Best Actress will be Queen Mirren, hands down and ten years from now Kate Winslet will pass Meryl as the most nominated actress. In the always wild card Best Supporting Actress, it will be Jennifer Hudson in another performance I did not witness (though I would not be shocked if Abigail Breslin wins). The BS Actor will go to Hudson's counterpart from the same flick, Mr. Murphy of Norbit fame.

Original Screenplay will be for LMS and Adapted for The Departed. The evening will be long and fun with Ellen hosting and I am especially looking forward to her opening monologue. If I were to make only one change, though, I would love them to flash up what the vote percentages were for each category. Wouldn't that be great to see that 90% of the Academy voted for Marty or that somebody only got, say 1% of the vote? Or even that the reason Eddie won his award with 26% of the vote was that Alan Arkin and Djimon Hounsou each had 25%, thus basically cancelling each other out. I'll make sure The Academy gets the memo. Monday I'll let everyone know how I did with all the noms (I promise not to cheat).

Enjoy!

Blogger Malaise

I have absolutely nothing new to post. Sure, there's a war going on, the Oscars are around the corner, Spring Training has started, March Madness is about to begin, the church is divided on a bazillion different issues, the race for the White House is in full swing and it's only 2007, it's super windy in D.C. today (reminicent of Kansas), Wilco and Son Volt have new albums coming out, Lent is here, I'm blogging at work, and so on and so forth.

Chilly Weather Needs Warm, Happy Thoughts

As D.C. endures this arctic blast I find myself needing to think of happy warm thoughts. And so my mind wanders to my youth and I try to recall my first live experience with Major League Baseball. It was a Royals-Red Sox game involving four future Hall of Famers (George Brett, Gaylord Perry, Carl Yastrzemski, Wade Boggs). Pat Sheridan hit a home run and the Royals won 1-0. I got to meet George Brett. I was almost nine years old at the time. Thanks to a most awesome website www.baseball-reference.com, I can look up the box score of that very game and re-imagine the experience, and hopefully stay warm.

MM

"I Believe..."

Over at Beliefnet.com noted conservative political blogger Andrew Sullivan and committed Athiest Sam Harris are engaging in an interesting blogalogue dealing with God, faith, and fundamentalism. Harris is the author of The End of Faith and believes that all religion, not just its fundamentalist fringe, ultimately leads to violence and destruction. Sullivan, as a mainstream Roman Catholic, provides a counter-argument suggesting that despite its radical fringe, religious belief actually is more helpful and hopeful for the human condition than lack of belief. I've definitely over simplified the context and content, but the extensive blogalogue itself is most illuminating, regardless of one's own beliefs on the matter. Both get rather technical in their defenses, and their is a sense that since both already have a pretty firm pre-supposition regarding their viewpoint, any attempt at persuasion is futile. However, for those curious regarding two distinct worldviews examining each other in a less hostile environment, I encourage taking the time to take a look. I, of course, agree with most of what Sullivan says, especially the linking of faith and reason as wholly compatible, which Harris has a tendency to dismiss. However, Harris does bring up some compelling and important issues, especially regarding the role of fundamentalism in any religion that should not be ignored. Again, click here to read through the debate.

Enjoy!

MM

Freaky Friday Photo

When I was much, much younger, I was deathly afraid of ventriloquist dummies. I would have nightmares of them watching me through a hole in my bedroom's ceiling. To the left is a photo from an upcoming film that would certainly confirm my worst fears regarding those little wood monsters. Needless to say I will not be rushing out to see the film which shall remain nameless.

Sermon! Luke 2:41-52

Following is a sermon I delivered to Millian Memorial United Methodist Church on New Year's Eve day titled "Did He Just Say That? A Story of Holy Boldness". Enjoy!

I.

Over the past couple of weeks we have been eagerly awaiting Christmas, the celebration of the birth of Jesus, the King of Kings. We have decorated our homes and our church, stuffed our stockings and emptied our wallets. More importantly, we have read the Gospels and sung many carols describing the miracle of Jesus’ birth. We have imbedded in our mind the sight of a baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger as visitors come to worship. And for many of us, that image becomes stuck in our heads until around Easter when we start giving more attention to the Adult Jesus on his way to the Cross.

With Christmas ending a lot of us spend the week recovering from all the anticipation and work. We have reached a physical and spiritual peak and now must wind down as the days wind down to the end of the year. The time and energy that went into preparing for the holy days of Christmas are now spent in leisure and anticipation of the New Year. Top ten lists dominate the cultural landscape as we spend a few moments reflecting all that was good and bad in the past year and resolve to make the coming year better. It’s as if we are determined to slow down temporarily our spiritual awakenings as though we have become too indulged in our own faith during Advent.

Much like the discarded Christmas trees I saw in front of homes the day after Christmas, we to have an unconscious tendency to shed some of our Christmas spirit and cheer. We return unnecessary and unwanted gifts and seek out year-end savings. We aren’t helping bring joy to others but rather are trying to, to some degree, serve ourselves, because that is what society is telling us to do this time of year. In Church, once we have celebrated the birth of Christ it is time to give it a rest for awhile. We jump ahead nearly thirty years in the life of Jesus, not really knowing what happened in between his birth and the start of his ministry.

And frankly the Gospels really don’t help us out here. Though Matthew includes the birth of Jesus, virtually nothing is written about his growing up. The Gospels of Mark and John don’t even deal with the birth, opting to jump right into the start of Jesus’ ministry. That leaves us with one exception, of course. The author of Luke, perhaps feeling the need for some remarks regarding Jesus’ childhood, includes this brief, yet important, anecdote when Jesus was twelve.

II.

Luke describes the journey Mary, Joseph, and Jesus took every year to celebrate Passover. It is important to note that much of Luke is in fact a travel narrative. Of all the Gospels, Luke’s would most likely wind up in the travel section of a book store. And here Luke feels compelled to frame this little section as a travelogue. Coming from Nazareth to Jerusalem would have been a bit of an arduous trip. They would have traveled both ways in a large caravan for safety. Yet Jesus here takes a risk. He stays behind in the Temple after the Feast. Mary and Joseph, thinking Jesus was with the large group headed back to Nazareth, don’t become aware of Jesus’ absence until a day into the journey home.

The situation is truly frightening for any parent. I can only imagine what Mary and Joseph were feeling as they searched the group for their Son. The caravan would simply keep going, and no one would notice a child missing until it had stopped for the day. This incident reminded me of a scene in Lawrence of Arabia when a man gets left behind during a long trek across the desert. It isn’t until the caravan has stopped for rest that it is discovered that someone is missing. The caravan didn’t have the time or resources to go back for the man (though Lawrence does bravely do just that). It just keeps going. Given this reality, Mary and Joseph certainly feared the worse. I remember once when I was 12 or 13 and was at the mall with my parents. They let me go off by myself for a little while. However, my mom gave me explicit instructions as to when and where to meet up again. Of course I didn’t quite follow the directions and when I showed up fifteen minutes later than intended I was in trouble. My parents had been frantically searching for me. My mother was very angry and a little scared that I had been lost. And that was only because I was late fifteen minutes. Now imagine what Mary and Joseph were feeling after three days of searching.

Fortunately the text has a happy, if somewhat ambivalent, ending. They find Jesus in the Temple. And here Jesus responds to his parents’ worry and rebuke, quite frankly, as many near-teenagers would. He justifies what he has done. I think it’s even safe to say that Jesus here looks less than stellar because of the anxiety he has created. Jesus is very confident in his reply. He asks them pointblank “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” It’s an answer that doesn’t easily settle what the parents went through. So what is Luke trying to express here? Why this somewhat bizarre story from Jesus’ childhood?

Actually, compared to other stories of the young Jesus found in the various non-canonical writings, this one is rather tame. Because the Gospels lack incidents in Jesus’ childhood, other writers tried to fill in the gaps. In these other so-called Gnostic Gospels, gospels which were rejected from the writings we know as the New Testament, we have magical stories of a mischievous Jesus turning clay birds into real ones and striking down dead children who make him angry. Not really the Jesus we have come to know and love. So Luke here does present a more believable scenario. It is more about one’s emerging identity, about how Jesus is growing into his role as the Son of God. He is maturing in his faith, though somewhat to the dismay of his parents. No miracles are necessary to demonstrate this. In his boldness, after his parents have searched long and hard and endured three days of worry, Jesus simply proclaims his holy vocation. He says he “must be” in his Father’s house, Father here meaning God.

And Luke ends this section by stating in verse 52 that “Jesus continued to increase in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.” After all, Jesus and his family have been obedient Jews, following the prescribed customs as evidenced by this Passover journey. Luke is careful to show that what Jesus is doing is correct within the customs of his own identity as a Jew. Despite this incident, Jesus remains an obedient child. And in his holy boldness, as Jesus comes to accept who he is, this provides a foreshadowing of things to come. Luke shows that the boy Jesus is maturing in his faith and provides a model of discipleship for us, a model that we should strive for and seek. Admittedly this does not fully temper the anxiety Jesus has created, though Luke does his best to spin this in as positive manner as possible. Luke has other intentions to show us.

III.

I believe this text to be entirely appropriate for following our Christmas celebrations. Once the trees and decorations have been taken away and all the parties ended, our devotion can easily slip. For too many of us our faith reaches an emotional peak at Christmas. That’s not too surprising because our culture tends to gear our hearts and minds toward December 25 without much thought as to what should occur afterward. Yet here in Luke we are offered a glimpse of one’s faith maturing. Jesus’ faithfulness doesn’t peak with his birth, but is allowed to grow, just as our faith doesn’t simply peak when we decide to follow Jesus, but rather is the gateway to a lifelong journey.

This should be a time of continued growth, not stagnation. Yes, we as Christians do become exhausted this time of year and deserve a break. Yet that break should not come at the expense of our spiritual selves. As Christians, we are called to be counter-cultural, to break from those social trappings that inhibit our relationship with God and one another. As disciples we need to continue on our Christian journey, always seeking to become closer to God, even if it means challenging a culture that wishes to replace the sacred with the secular. We are too often tempted to give our faith a break. However, we need to be constantly maturing in our faith, to always be willing to grow.

We have experienced emotional highs as we have gathered with families and friends to remember the very miracles that often bind us as Christians in community. We begin to see God in the unlikeliest of places, despite our hectic schedules during the Holidays. We want to better ourselves as the year comes to a close because we once again are reminded of Christ’s transformative nature. Unfortunately we all too easily fall back into business as usual and the spirit of Christmas gets packed away with the rest of our decorations. Yet, here in Luke, we are given a demonstration of how to continue in our growth in the Spirit.

Jesus’ time in the temple demonstrates one model for growing in wisdom and stature. As he entered adulthood, Jesus found a home in the Temple for theological reflection. He chose to stay behind in order to gain in wisdom and holy boldness. He held on to the traditions of his faith in order to become a better reflection of God’s purposes. Also important to look at is Jesus’ age. These past few months I have had the privilege of working with the middle schoolers in Sunday School. There talents and gifts never cease to amaze me. We have much to learn from our children, but only if we allow them space to speak to us, to help us, and to guide us as we guide them in their faith journey. As a community we must strive to be in partnership with those who may not have the years or experience we have, but can offer wisdom that transcends their age. Only by encouraging them in Christ’s love can they grow and flourish in the Christian community.

We, too, must continue in growing in our faith. As Methodists, we affirm the practice and discipline of John Wesley. He understood the Christian journey to be a lifelong process of continued growth. Yes, in an instant we can and are converted to the faith, experiencing rebirth, but the journey doesn’t end there. We are continuing forward on the road to what Wesley called “Christian Perfection.” In other words our task as Christians is to continue to grow in our faith until we have achieved total love of God and neighbor. We don’t simply quit living and wait for the endtimes. Because of our faith we participate in the life of the church and seek to be servants of God in our daily lives.

Theologian Bruce Epperly, a former professor at Wesley Theological Seminary now teaching in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, has a very clear understanding of our task. He insists that our growth “calls us to take our faith seriously enough to study scripture, wrestle with traditional theological doctrines, explore new images of God, Christ, and salvation, and spend time in prayer, meditation, and service. A growing faith is not accidental, but requires going to the “temple” regularly to listen, ask, and share.”

The church is a place to keep us spiritually strong and emotionally capable of maintaining and transforming our lives. Practicing our faith in isolation simply is not an option. It is within the community that our faith potential can be fully met. Here at Millian we have the capability of continued growth throughout the whole year, whether it is through bible study or community outreach, through the work of Stephen ministry, or on a mission trip in and outside the United States, or simply the interactions and support of each other in Christian love. Everyday is an opportunity to experience transformation or to reflect upon our role as Christian believers. So, I ask, how will you seek new ways for growth? What opportunities or tasks will you undertake so that you may participate more fully in the life of Christ, the life of discipleship? How are we serving God and neighbor? What can you and I do to better increase our Wisdom, our faith? How will be harbingers of your peace? The new year brings new opportunity.

I believe Luke is inviting us to be part of a movement that revels in Holy Boldness. The call to discipleship is an invitation to be part of something greater than ourselves. It is also a journey that requires the help and fellowship of others. To be a Christian is to be in community. If we are to take the Gospel story, the Good News, seriously, we must understand what is required of us as Christians. Now, I am not suggesting doing what Jesus did. Creating undue anxiety is not the point of Luke’s message. I think it is even safe to say that Jesus is an exception, though there is no doubt that he is obedient to his parents, Mary and Joseph. But our calling as disciples requires boldness in order for us to fully experience God’s love. Yes, we will experience the high moments of Church life, such as Christmas and Easter, yet more importantly, we must also be open to God’s transformative power the whole year. As a faith community, devoted to growing in love, we owe it to each other to be as bold and holy in our faith as possible.

Amen.

Where Have You Been?

Well gentle readers, as a New Year's Resolution, I promised myself I would blog much much more. I promised some key players that I would start posting on a much more regular basis, say, 4 to 5 times a week. I have even thought of a new feature, called "Night Cap" that I hope will become a hit among the masses. As with many NYRs, I told myself I would have until February to get it off the ground. Well, today is the last day of January, and, as if by magic, a new post has appeared! Granted, this is a simple re-launch without much pizzazz or fanfare, but as I try to become more disciplined my promise to you is to have at least three new posts through Sunday (which may or may not include this one). I'm going to add more religion into the mix, though will attempt to stay away from politics (if possible. In this country the two are sometimes inseparable. Perhaps a "wall of separation" is needed?) I also invite any suggestions for making this a better blog.

Thank you,

MM

Bond Returns along with Meddling Methodist

Greetings gentle readers, those who have continued glancing at this blog only to find that nothing has been updated in over a month. And this following a promise for more prolific blogging. Perhaps I'll shove that to the New Year (resolutions are always kept, right? Just like my four-year promise to get back into running).

Anyway, last night my wife and I enjoyed the new and improved James Bond soon-to-be-classic Casino Royale. Having devoted large chunks of my life to watching Bond (including many a bad one in the latter years, the latter years being, oh, 1986 on), I was exciting at the prospect of Daniel Craig as the new 007. Now I wouldn't consider myself a fanatic, but more of a traditionalist in the sense that the recent years' reliance on gadgetry and over-the-top stunts without the sense of humor really didn't appeal to my own inner-Bondness. I suppose I wanted a character-driven Bond in the Connery mold, along with a Goldfinger like villian. Well, one out of two ain't bad, and the one that mattered for this film, Bond, was very good.

As a coming out party/series re-boot, CR delivered the goods. Craig as Bond is a bit rough around the edges, still learning the ropes, taking risks beyond his capabilities. And that is a good thing. The plot, of course, is ridiculous, involving high stakes poker and unbelievable hands (why can't movies ever show the guy winning with just a pair of threes?), as well as a somewhat dull terrorist-financier who weeps blood, but that isn't the point. The point is an intro to the New Bond, and I for one am excited about the prospects. And when Craig as Bond delivers his signature intro, the transformation is complete

One final note. I recognize that these films stretch the boundaries of believabilty, but this one had the most unbelievable moment I have ever encountered. In the Bahamas, the suave and sophisticated MI6 agent opts for a Ford Sedan. My wife and I could only laugh at the peposterousness of it all.

MM

Greeting Fellow Wilco Gazers! Part 2: Resolution in the House of Wilco

I’ve spent most of my life avoiding these types of situations. Once in college I was punched over a girl. And the punch was kinda wimpy and the girl turned out not to be really worth all the fuss. However, on this night it became apparent that the possibility of fight no. 2 would commence in the midst of a strange turn of events. Boston Rob basically dared me to throw the first punch. Having assessed that he was taller, younger, and in much better shape than myself I doubt if any punch from me would’ve helped the situation. Also, the absurdity of the ordeal wasn’t worth taking it so seriously as to succumb to a violent resolution. Luckily, the doors opened, and as expected, Boston Rob and Short Round made it to the front row (as did we). Dude apologized again and again, not knowing when, as my father would say, to quit while ahead.

So, the show was off to a bad start, threatening to impact our enjoyment. The opening act sang of politics and cats but not alleviating the bad taste in our mouths. Could Wilco save us? The minutes passed as the roadies set the stage. Idle chatter grew louder and louder as the club filled to maximum capacity. The lights dimmed, the crowd cheered, and the sounds of Debussy filled the room. Debussy you ask? From the depths of childhood memory this little ditty re-emerged in an unexpected place. This familiar tune from childhood preceded Wilco’s appearance. It was the legendary opening theme for the Star Gazer (formerly known as the Star Huster, check out the FAQ for why the name was changed). I was hoping the band was going to glide out on a moonbeam and tell us about the stars. But they were, in a sense, to use a tired cliche mixed with bad writing, the stars. With the moment any bad mood was lifted and Wilco came out and took control for two hours, confirming again their status as a GREAT BAND.

In the end, no punches were thrown, by myself or that other Jeff onstage. The House of Wilco is a safe haven to enjoy the transcendent power of music. The evening will forever be etched in my consciousness.

Greetings Fellow Wilco-Gazers! Part I: Confrontation

Last Thursday I enjoyed a pleasant evening of standing and listening to the joyous noise that is Wilco at the 9:30 Club. Friends arrived early to stake their place in line (my wife being the first one there—at 12:30), and we gawked at the usual suspects who frequent these shows. Things were pleasant by the time I arrived by five to complete the quartet of friends clamoring to be in the front. (A fifth showed up perfectly content with hanging out by the bar.)

A few minutes prior to the doors opening a 6’4” lad clad in a Boston RedSox hat strolled up and began chatting with my wife. Most fans at a Wilco show are a gentle lot so this sight was not out of the ordinary. I was only half paying attention when the conversation turned a little heated. Boston Rob began pointing at us, angry that we had jumped ahead, thus depriving his 5’2” girlfriend a chance to see her favorite band in the front row. Somehow we had allowed at least 20 people to jump ahead in the line in a blatant effort to disrupt his and her viewing and listening pleasure. And for him, the main culprit was my wife.

Line jumping is a serious accusation, often-times resulting in ejection from amusement parks. Waiting in line at clubs prior to shows has its own set of rules, I believe, which require examination. One or two people arrive early to claim a spot in line. In my wife’s case she showed up nearly seven hours early to claim the top spot. She has the right to hold that spot for one other person prior to the doors opening. Person #2 showed up by around 3, over four hours before the doors opening. By this time another small group had formed. Our group informed this group that a couple more people would be arriving later. So things seemed to be ok. Two people were holding spots for two other people, maintaining the proper ratio. We were all operating in good faith and trust.

Or so we thought. Boston Rob didn’t see that. For him, we had broken that trust. The fifth person of our group who had no intention of joining us up front told BR to chill and not to worry. Then BR was demanding a place at the front of the line, saying that we had all shown up late. Things were getting a little surreal. In an attempt to diffuse the situation I even said fine, move up. But the guy still was not satisfied, stating that if he and his girlfriend didn’t have a spot up front, then he’d have a “problem” with us. A “problem?” This understandably kinda set my wife off a bit. Her personal space was being invaded by now (though he pointed out that he was at least two feet away.) She had been there since 12:30 and having a good time, looking forward to seeing her favorite band and this bloak was wreaking havoc on a peaceful evening. But, instead of yelling at dude, my wife stared at him, to which he asked something like “Why are you just standing there stonefaced?” in a very rude manner.

Normally I too am a gentle soul who operates to some degree under the mantra of live and let live. I am not a confrontational person, preferring the path of peace to resolve disputes. We had been reasonable with this guy. But then he called my wife “stonefaced.” Now, that is not so much an insult as it is an affront to respectful behavior. BR had chosen a path of confrontation when it wasn’t necessary. To some degree he dared us to create a “problem” for his girlfriend. He could have played the sympathy card because he had been there for a long time. But, since he chose a different way, I came to the defense of the one I loved….

To be continued…

Wilco Tonight and Other Stuff

Dear Fan(s):

Tonight is a Wilco night at 9:30 Club, which will be blogged about, hopefully, tomorrow.

Also, in the near future I'll be blogging about politics, The Departed, with some religion thrown in. So Stay Tuned!

For now, check this awesome YouTube out. It's one of the greatest covers of a great song ever, and also further proof that YouTube is the best thing on the internet (don't screw it up, Google).

Peace Out!

Apocalypse When? (Updated 10/10)

In Wichita, the Rolling Stones came and went without ringing in the Apocalypse. I think a more sure sign would be, say, the Tigers winning the World Series (especially after last night's not-so-stellar performance). Just as well. According to this article, we Americans are ill-prepared for the cataclysmic event, AKA the Second Coming, anyway. But, it got me to thinking, which band(s) would I want to ride out the Apocalypse with? (And since the dead will be raised, the previously deceased are now options.) If there is anyone still reading this blog, please let me know your thoughts. I’ll post mine later.

Additional Info:

After thoughtful consideration, here are the five bands I'd like to hear live.

1. The Beatles
2. Beck
3. Bob Dylan
4. Uncle Tupelo
5. Neil Young

And here are five albums, always subject to change depending on time and mood (should probably make this ten albums).

1. Wilco Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
2. Sonic Youth Daydream Nation
3. Bruce Springsteen Nebraska
4. Jimi Hendrix Are You Experienced?
5. Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon

Sophie's Trifecta

After church on Sunday my wife and I enjoyed an afternoon at the Kennedy Center watching opera, courtesy of some tickets we received for petsitting a cute little dog named Roxie. The opera we saw was Nicholas Maw’s adaptation of William Styron’s novel Sophie’s Choice.

With this viewing I hit an artistic trifecta, having in the past six months read the novel (courtesy of a 25¢ purchase at a thrift store in Williamsburg, VA by fellow blogger I Love Taco Bell) and seen the film version. If I had the time or the inclination (or was enrolled in some expensive graduate film school), I believe I could come up with an esoteric thesis for dissecting the material and comparing/contrasting the various artistic modes used to tell the thoroughly depressing material in three different mediums, and whether those mediums enhance or detract from the story itself (as well as shed new light on the nightmare and evil of the Holocaust). But who has time for that?

Obviously all three have their strengths and weaknesses. As source material for the film and opera, the novel provides a wonderful framework to work from. Director Alan J. Pakula does a very faithful adaptation of Styron, and Maw does a faithful adaptation of Pakula and Styron. Each version is tragic without resorting to false notes or manufactured emotions. The novel and film effectively use realism to get the story across. The opera (at least this version of it), with its sparse set and use of many, many photographs dangling from the rafters, creates a dream-like vision of memory and loss. Of course some of the audience members complained, wanting more realistic sets (perhaps reflecting their fondness for the film) and others debated the omission of some details from the original story (I suppose wanting more detail regarding the character Stingo's various sexual mishaps) as well as the significance of the title, “what exactly was Sophie’s Choice?”. Those complaints of course were trivial to the visceral appeal.

Spoiler Alert!!!

The opera ends with the narrator asking “Where was God at Auschwitz?” a classic theological questioning dealing with, among other things, theodicy and suffering, to which the narrator retorts, in some ways as the voice of God, “Where was Man?” The layered complexity of such questions only adds to the overall power and impact of all versions of Sophie’s Choice.

Discovering something worth writing about

Ok, ok, ok. I know I had previously stated that I will attempt to blog twice a week. Of course that hasn't quite panned out, but that is still my intent. I've got to keep my fans happy!!! Also, a component of the mission statement of this blog was not to post too much about those issues that have a tendency to raise the ire of a variety of people. Well, for today I'm letting that slip a little, without apology. I mean I am supposed to be a Meddling Methodist, aren't I?

The past couple of days I have had the opportunity to sit and listen to Donald Dayton, a religious scholar who has refused categorization as well as defy the status quo, as any good Christian should. Thirty years ago he published a little book that still resonates with many across the broad spectrum of American religious identity. His Discovering an Evangelical Heritage is a seminal work that provides refreshing insight into the true nature of the roots of, I suppose, the uniqueness of American Christian culture. It overturns current assumptions about the formation of the "mainline" and "evangelical" protestant branches in American history. And it seeks to move beyond the current false dichotomy perceived to be the main cause of division within those two traditions. In other words, most of what we think we know is wrong and lest we take an honest look at the true nature of our history, then we will continue on a trajectory that both denies the past (thus ultimately denying the true nature of the Gospel) and will continue to divide us into the future. Let us regain what has been lost.

Reason #47 to quit my day job

Check this article out. A bartender in Hutchinson, KS gets a pretty nice tip. Gotta love those Kansans. What I find particularly amazing is the fact she's been at Applebee's for eight years. Further proof that all the time and money I've spent in college has not yielded any financial benefits (not that that's a bad thing.)

Rove-in Around D.C.

D.C. is a place where those with the keys to power can brush up with those destined to stay on the margins. Chance encounters between the governmental elites and the majority of non-entities forced to cling to singular hopes and pipedreams intersect, sometimes with glorious results, most of the time with narry a ripple in the cosmic fabric binding the world together. So it was this past weekend when my wife and I enjoyed a quiet Italian dinner in NW D.C. I have no illusions regarding my place in this democracy. I vote as often as I can when I can in a city that has very few voting rights. But I do have a variety of eating establishments to choose from, and this night we ventured to a little family venue that serves very good spaghetti.

As we left the restaurant in the middle of a rainstorm, the remnants of Ernesto creeping up the Atlantic Coast, I noticed a man in a raincoat approaching us. The spark of recognition ignited in my brain as he drew closer and my mind raced through the millions of cells searching for a name to match the face. The brain opened the celebrity file, and in doing so the rest of body stopped and stared. The man came closer and looked at me and cracked a subtle smile, as if knowing that I knew him from somewhere, perhaps on TV or in a movie. He had that knowing look of one used to being recognized. And it hit me.

My wife was not transfixed as I was, for she was thinking of other things, of places to be and things to accomplish, her mind not cluttered with the mundane task of celebrity sighting. Yet I was pleading with her, telepathically, to look over, to see this giant of American culture, this person that both she and I have admonished in mixed company and questioned his integrity as a human. Yet she would not, could not.

Thinking back there are things I wish I could of said at that moment. Thousands of times I have rehearsed with me and my friends arguments to make regarding the political movements of this country. Those arguments involve disagreeing with the strategies and public persona of this one who now was walking past me into the restaurant. It donned on me that yes, he needs to eat and enjoy the food just like us. He has friends somewhere to enjoy a glass of wine with, to talk about sports and weather and other fun items. So I let him pass me by to enjoy his dinner without the distraction of political engagement. This person that I have built up in my mind as the root cause for all America's ills (an exaggeration to be sure but one reflective of our political culture in general, perhaps pointing to its sorry state for all involved), simply wants to be. My chance encounter with the corridors of power will not even appear on any radar screen as having any effect on the shifting tides of culture, political or otherwise. Yet I did noticed that Karl Rove in person has appeared to have lost some weight. While engaging in a variety of wars, intellectual, physical, sociological, etc., Rove, aka Bush's Brain, aka numerous expletives, and aka numerous affirmations, has time to exercise. Now if only I could do the same.