Walk the line

Rainy day yesterday. Silvi and I went out for breakfast together while Annie and Ian chilled out; Annie's chin deep into a Murder She Wrote marathon on Netflix Instant Viewing. I spent much of the weekend revamping my business website, making it more corporate (gack) and minimalist. A bit embarrassed by the *yawn* booooring videos I've put up as samples, but - that's all I's gots.

Also embarrassed by the cheesy Christian videos up there, but again... Man, I've made a lot of crap over the years. Sold out to the man. That's part of the reason I've started my own company, to create videos that I can be proud of and that won't come with a warning to not watch my videos late at night or before operating heavy machinery.

Lately, I've been working with a corporation on the side that is paying enough for me to invest some of the extra money into my own projects, which is pretty stinkin' exciting. (Thanks, Jim, for throwing the business my way.) I'm looking around for a writer for my philosophy video series; need to find someone who can walk the line between curriculum and documentary. So if you know anyone...

Speaking of walking the line, I'm delving into two books in my attempt to better understand, know, learn about, comprehend, find, discover what Jesus was like, who he was/is, etc. One book was written by an atheist, Jose Saramago and the other by an evangelical Phillip Keller. When Saramago, who wrote the killer book Blindness, published his novel - The Gospel According to Jesus Christ - it was renounced as heretical by almost everyone, Protestant and Catholic alike. Not hard to see why, since, according to Saramago, Joseph was the real daddy.

Keller, best known for his classics A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23 and Lessons from a Sheepdog, is no doubt a fine writer, and more accurately reflects my own beliefs concerning these events, but, man, some of his book on the life of Jesus that I'm reading - Rabboni - is just downright cheesy. Stuffed crust cheesy. He's got Mary and Joseph sneaking lovey-dovey looks at each other, Mary not complaining (why add this interpretation) about riding - pregnant - on a donkey across the desert, Joseph a strapping tanned young man, etc.

That's why I have to read Saramago, a brilliant writer, in the other hand, to balance the story out. Same goes for a lot of other stories or books I read: If I'm holding Kierkegaard in one hand, the other hand's got Nietzsche.

Of course, I'm defaulting back to the original stories recorded by the Jewish writers of old to give me sure footing on this path, walking the line, struggling along the narrow ridge.

Big Bird vs. Goliath

I'm revisiting some thoughts from a few years ago because I still haven't found an answer that is satisfying.

I begin with this question: How do I teach my kids about God? I know that Silvi and Ian will emulate me, which is a terrifying prospect. They'll learn about God first through my example. It's true, I love God deeply but the fact is, I often screw things up. And besides, I don't want my kids to love God as I do: I want them to love Him better than I do.

I've been wandering through the kid's sections of bookstores, looking at the religious books. It's a bit frightening, really. Children's Bible stories with pictures of everyone smiling the same sticky-sweet smile. I mean, come on, when David was walking around town with Goliath's head in his hand, I think more of William Wallace than of Big Bird. Of course, I don't believe that my two-year-old daughter will cuddle up with me at night while I flip through a picture book of Braveheart. And so I have a dilemma. Do I buy the Bible picture books with all the happy smiling prophets and lepers and warriors?

I drive my wife crazy with my penchant for focusing on minutia. But I really do think this matters. A lot. It's taken me a couple of decades to get rid of some of the religious baggage that caused me to walk around like Quasimodo. I know that it is impossible to prevent my kids from having a lot of their own misconceptions about God; it's part of living with limited perspectives. But I don't want to make Silvi and Ian's trek with God more tiring than it has to be. And I have to believe that a childhood of looking at pictures of real people of history like Moses and David and Solomon portrayed with pasted on Crest-white smiles has got to have some kind of an impact.

Maybe I'm making too much of this, or maybe it's "a guy thing." I can't really get into a bunch of smiling vegetables acting out the Last Supper. I did find a few books online at Eerdmans publishing that are at least artistically inspiring. Maybe that's the best I can hope for in a children's story book.

"Teach, your parents well..."

I finally got around to uploading the pictures of Silvi playing a lamb/dog/calf for the Christmas pageant. It was actually a very moving experience for me, seeing her take part of this annual tradition of remembrance and worship.

Silvi didn't know the words to most of the songs; maybe Away In a Manger. But she tried to sing along anyway. For all the theology books I've read, the few years spent at Bible college, the hours of listening to sermons and reading through the Scriptures on my own, nothing can make the reality of those sacred words more evident than when they spring from my daughter's mouth. Some nights as Silvi is lying in her crib, I hear her singing "Jesus loves me, this I know," softly and innocently in the darkness of her room. Then I understand. I understand everything that is important to understand, that Love is real and permanent and tangible and graspable.

And I want to experience that Love all over again. My little girl teaches me to love, and about Love, and keeps drawing me closer to the source of all Love, that little child "away in a manger."

Not quite sure what we're doing here, but I dig the tunes.

Next year, I'm auditioning for the part of the baby Jesus. My feet are killing me!

Stop doing what?

Trust, and a little OCD

I probably shouldn't be blogging today: The first snowflakes are drifting down, the Vikings won yesterday and Britney Spear's scowl continues to make going through the checkout counter an irritating experience.

But I'm committed to writing each day this month (thanks a lot, Isabel). Oh well. Let's hope my self-censoring radar will kick in before I become inappropriately transparent.

I think one of the benefits to having good people in our lives is their ability to act as mirrors. Without Annie, I would probably consider myself to be a normal and well-rounded guy. I would think that it's perfectly sane to refuse to drink milk more than three days old, that everyone buys journals in bulk without writing in them and that reading for eight hours straight is a good way to improve my social life. (Who says imaginary friends can't make you happy? Try telling Calvin that Hobbes doesn't make him happy.)

Without my wife, I would also probably think that buying a new/used Bible every other week is a reasonable use of my pocket cash.

I used to buy lots of Bibles. Every translation I could get my hands on. NIV, The Message, NKJV, NLT, RSV, with and without cheese. I won't bore you with a list of them all.

I'm not very "religious," at least I don't think so. I pop into a traditional church service once or twice a year, I have no idea what to do when Lent rolls around and haven't the foggiest which side goes first when making the Sign of the Cross. I just try to mimic Jesus, like a little brother following around big brother, annoying the crap out of him (no offense, Luke).

I'm sure I would have annoyed Jesus. "Umm, Tom, it's cool you want to hang out with me and all, but I'm heading out into the desert for some alone time."

Anyway, I'm getting off track here. I knew I should have just posted more pictures today.

Over the years I think I've figured this Bible-buying compulsion thing out. It comes down to a matter of trust.

See, I just don't trust many "Christians." That goes for Bible publishing "Christians" as well. For instance, it's hard for me to read the English Standard Version translation because one of the professors on the translation team is friends with an organization for which I have a strong dislike. I struggle to read the New Living Translation because Pat Roberson likes it. (Sorry, Pat, I know everyone uses you as a whipping boy, but you bring it on yourself.)

Yeah, I know, like I'm Mr. Perfect. Shhh... I'm bearing my soul here.

I also don't trust advertising. Probably because I'm in the industry. I know how jaded and skeptical - and manipulative - advertising is prone to be. Walk down the religion section of any bookstore and look at all the brightly colored Bibles. Try not to think of the team of graphic artists and sales associates and marketing personnel and MBA's who helped put that Bible on the shelf. I used to tear the covers off of my Bibles because it bugged me so much.

Alright, so that last part is pretty weird. And I knew that before Annie told me so. But, hey, you're the one who's still reading about my warped sense of trust.

I suppose that I am still trying to find a Bible that is untainted by flawed people, although I realize that it's a futile search. It's just so hard to learn to trust, you know? My wife's helping me in that department. So are Silvi and Ian.

Stupid winter. Making me look like a freak in front of everyone.

Barbeque

We went over to some friend's house on Saturday night for a barbeque. Annie met Sarah through a children's developement group a year or so ago and they have become good friends. Sarah's from London and has been married to Rob for about five years, and their son, Gabriel, is around Silvi's age. It's fun to watch the two kids interact and grow up together.

On the way to work in the mornings, I've been listening to some mp3's from Covenant Seminary. They've been examining the teachings of Christ in the Synoptic Gospels, and one particular point struck me as I thought about the barbeque. I've only met Rob once before, and, as is often the case, chit-chat does not come easy to me. I think it's because I'm so self-aware, and probably spend much of the conversation wondering what the other person thinks of what I am saying. The curse of the people pleaser. Sometimes I'm not the best of listeners.

But Christ didn't have this protective wall around him. He could put people at ease because he was at ease with himself. He didn't struggle with wanting affirmation or a bad self-image. Christ was the world's best listener.

To become more like him is to lose the masks we wear, giving us opportunities for genuine conversations.

Cristo degli Abissi

(click picture to enlarge)

Christ of the Abyss

[Updated] I was just sitting here, thinking about why this picture appeals to me. I posted it about an hour ago. It's Good Friday, so I felt compelled to post something to do with the occasion. I nearly posted this picture (too... artsy), then I nearly posted this picture. (from a place Annie and I visited in Lisbon... not quite right)

There is a feeling when you're diving, the weightlessness, the otherworldness, the... helplessness. When you're thirty to forty feet under water, you are at a threshold, a crossroads. Any deeper, and you begin to lose the light and your dive-time decreases. At fifty feet and deeper, your risk of the bends increases. Moving into shallow water brings more safety, yet many of the most beautiful sights lie in deeper water.

Cristo degli Abissi lies in 50-feet of water.

I guess I thought this picture was a great metaphor for my relationship with Christ. He keeps calls me into the deeper water. Not really an original thought, but it's mine for the day.

(or maybe I just couldn't think of a way to tie Nanni Moretti to Easter.)

Theology

"Theology is supposed to be the study of the fire and light that burn at the center of the world. Theologians have reduced it to the turning of pages in a catalog of ideas — a kind of butterfly collection for the mind.

As soon as we regard God from without as a mere object of knowledge, or a mere occasion for speculative study, without freshness of heart and the unrest of love, then all is over, and we have in our hands nothing but a phantom and an idol."

Hans urs von Balthasar

"Lovers are the ones who know most about God; the theologian must listen to them. Love must possess the innermost heart of man and must then 'reorganise' him. Man is then able to be a fragrance of Christ in the world."

Hans urs von Balthasar

Interruptions

I want to learn to be more predisposed to be interrupted, like Jesus was. (Is "learning to be predisposed" a contradiction in terms?) Jesus, sent by God on this enormous mission of restoring creation, was constantly stopping to talk to whoever had a question for him. Or to share a meal, to ease someone's suffering.

My life is full of interruptions and the truth is, sometimes it drives me crazy. I've got a task to do, people. How do I learn that these interruptions are, in fact, an integral part of the journey?

Living Water

I love the way Nikos Kazantzakis writes with such passion. In The Fratracides he examines the constant battle to live in the midst of oppression. Greece is wracked by war, and the main character struggles to remain truely alive during the chaos around him.

How do we remain alive - completely alive - in the midst of the mundane? We, too, are at war, a war against losing our thirst for life. The desert often parches our lips, and we long for water. Like Father Yanaros in Kazantzakis' novel, we must struggle never to let go of the desire to be fully alive.

Christ says that if we drink of his water, our thirst will be quenched. Oh, if we could but grasp his cup with both hands and drink deeply.