Through a glass, darkly.

Does God heal today?

2005-05-06T11:48:00.000-04:00

In Luke 7:18ff, John the Baptist send messengers to Jesus to ask if he was indeed the promised Messiah. Jesus responded by saying: “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and good news is preached to the poor.” This is of course an allusion to Isaiah 35:5-6 and 61:1, and refers to events which are prophesied to take place in the year of the Lord’s favor, that time when God would rule in a new and powerful way. As we know, Jesus’ preaching was about the coming of the Kingdom of God. Wherever Jesus carried this message, there were signs which accompanied it – blind receiving sight, lame walking, deaf hearing and leprosy cured. As people who continue to live in, sacramentally signify and spread God’s end time Kingdom, we ought to expect physical healing to have an ongoing significance among us. This will take the form of the miraculous, and the medical. All blessings of health come from the hand of God, and all true knowledge is God’s knowledge.

‘Is it always God’s will to heal?’ I would have to answer yes; God’s will is for his humanity to be completely liberated from the effects of the fall, including sickness and death. So when we ask for healing for ourselves or someone else in our present age, we can be certain that we are asking for exactly what it is God wants for us. However, we live in an eschatological mid point (already, not yet). So perhaps the question is better put, ‘Will God heal me now in this present age, or will he wait for the consummation?’ We cannot live in denial that we still stand with one foot in “this age.” Even those people Jesus himself healed fell ill again and died. The mystery of who experiences as foretaste the gift of certain special benefits through Christ’s death and resurrection in our present age and who does not cannot be explained, and pastorally I have no answer. What I can reassure those seeking divine healing of is that they are indeed asking for exactly what their loving Father wishes to give them. The only question is ‘When?’, and the only response to ‘later’ is to carry on, whatever the circumstances, with faith and hope in the knowledge that “on that day”, “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

What is the role of art in Christian life/worship?

2005-05-06T11:45:00.000-04:00

Beauty is that which moves the affections and passions in a pleasing way. So when I say that I have an insatiable desire to experience beauty, that is to say, I long to be moved – I desire an ordering of things which upon observation causes me deep seated joy at the core of my soul.

Art is the creation of beautiful things. Dostoevsky’s Prince Myshkin says “beauty will come and save the world.” Call me an Idiot, but I believe him.

Beauty has the possibility of restoring humanity’s outlook on the world from a dominating view to a marveling one, thus causing us to relate ourselves to the world with amazement and thankfulness. In other words, the realization of beauty will teach us that the material world is not merely for utilization, it is for appreciation. Beauty enables us to be grateful for what has been donated to us – the world and everything in it – rather than to exploit it.

The way in which we judge what is ugly or beautiful is in many ways analogous to the way in which we judge right and wrong. In this sense, aesthetics is the mother of ethics. In a world where morality and meaning have eroded to the point of virtual non-existence, we have yet to entirely forget our sense of beauty. As long as we still have aesthetic good taste there is hope that we can continue to appreciate righteousness, and thereby be drawn to the beauty of God.

May the church be full of art and artists – may the world be moved to believe.

What is the Kingdom of God?

2005-02-28T19:44:00.000-05:00

The Kingdom of God is the central theme in Jesus’ preaching. It is like a fishing net, a mustard seed, a ball of yeast, a treasure buried in a field, a master forgiving debts. You must forget your family to find it; you must leave your riches to squeeze into it; you must be born from above to see it. Perhaps the best definition is seen in Jesus’ prayer for it:

“Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10)

The Kingdom of God is where God’s will is done: Where sin has no hold, where death has no sting, where the accuser is thrown down, where swords are beat into ploughshares, where the lion lays down with the lamb, where widows and orphans are loved, where cooking pots are holy like vessels in the Temple, where there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female.

With the way the world is today, the pain and suffering, the malicious treatment of one person to another, this Kingdom seems pretty far off. Yet Jesus also says:

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:15)

There has been a definitive and irreversible victory over sin, death, and the powers of rebellion in Christ. The sick are healed, the lame walk, the dead are raised, the captives are set free, the veil has been torn, and the spirit is poured out on all flesh. The war is won. He is on the throne.

How do we know? The Church is our proof. The Church is a sign. It is a sign that makes real that which it signifies. It is an outward sign of a spiritual reality. It is a sacrament of the Kingdom. Although we don’t always look it quite as well as we should, the Church persists in history as an assurance that what Jesus has accomplished has taken hold and will take hold in the fullness of time.

What is the Gospel?

2005-02-28T19:43:00.000-05:00

I once received the ‘gospel’ photocopied on canary yellow, stuck under my windshield. There was a three bullet outline about how to “go to heaven”, along with a bold, italicized headline encouraging readers to “Get a better life using God.”

Three point outline -– Should it really be that simple?

“go to heaven” –- Is that all there is to it?

“using God” –- Do you take God in liquid or pill form?

Of course I criticize because I love. I passionately believe in the revolutionary liberating power of the Gospel of Christ. But there must be something more to it than what it sometimes becomes. These days of ours, in which there is a crying need for a robust Christianity to feed the needs of a spiritually starving people, demand a Gospel that will satisfy, not just another appetizer from Oprah and Dr. Phil.

So what does this meaty Gospel look like?

“and the Word became flesh and lived among us”

The Gospel, signified most fully in Christ, is that God desires to communicate his very self to all humanity. The offer has “divinizing” effects on human nature, as God graciously makes himself a constitutive part of human nature. This process deepens over time through sanctification, at last realized in beatific vision.

In the reverse, with the Incarnation, human nature is taken up for all time into the reality of God. God has made the human to participate in the divine.

“By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity.”

We have been given an invitation to cut in on the ecstatic Triune dance of dynamic interrelated love for all eternity.

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Now the dwelling of God is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.’”

Good News.

What are human beings for?

2005-02-28T19:42:00.000-05:00

In the reality of the Triune life we learn that God is inherently disposed towards giving himself to another: ‘Father’ expresses himself in the whole through the eternally generated ‘Son’, at once creating a space in God which is held open by ‘Spirit’, and an utterly profound union that is bound together by ‘Spirit.’ The Trinity is God giving himself so completely to the other that the otherness is fully himself.

This mystery teaches us something profound about human life. While the divine processions of ‘Son’ and ‘Spirit’ must be radically differentiated from the creation of ‘Adam’, there is a sense in which they are not totally distinct. God is in his very self prone to create, to give and share life with others. The welcome to others that is rooted in the triune life spills over, freely, in the act of creation, and does so most fully in the creation of human beings. God was not forced to create in order to be fully himself, but it is precisely because he is fully himself – his triune self – that humans come to be.

What does this tell us about what we are for?

God made us to give himself to us. We exist because he wants to share. We are because God loves to love.

We are rain barrels to catch the flood; empty vases needing flowers; hungry stomachs craving bread of heaven; ears to hear the still small voice; incomplete puzzles awaiting a divine piece.

“Here I am. I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”

Open up!

Necessary Goods

2004-11-04T16:08:00.000-05:00

"Father Mackenzie,
wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave --
No one was saved!
All the lonely people --
Where do they all belong?"

This lyric always strikes me. I think it is at the heart of another problem seen by many in the Church today - the loss of mission and the rise of institution.

The Church is not worthy of the name if it is not living a resourceful witness, concretely addressing people's daily needs. We need to be in the trenches living the Commission and struggling to make it reality, not in ivory towers congratulating ourselves on a job well done. As Hans Hoekendijk put it, "mission isn't everything, it's the only thing." We are called to spread the Kingdom, not the Church.

However, allow me to play - I won't say Devil's - the Church's advocate on one point here. (My Catholic sentimentality again rears its head)

Many who analyze the history of the Church will evoke in one form or another the notion of institutionalization. Typically the response is to lament the seemingly inherent human tendancy for social groups to form into hardened structures. Some are more irenic, willing to say that institutions are, at best, necessary evils.

However, there are some serious problems with the notion of necessary evils. If institutions are so evil, why are they so prevalent? What is it that pushes human communities to develop concretized forms, be it families, social clubs, governments, and religious groups? Do we write it off completely as a result of the fall?

I think that is a bit unfair and totalizes human depravity just a little too much. Certainly human social interaction is defaced by sin and this can cause our institutions to become perverted idols. However, can we leave some room that this seemingly universal human characteristic is at least in part from God? "It is not good for man to be alone"

Can we consider that institutional forms arise to provide an efficient means to achieve certain recurrent needs within the community, and that while this happens in part based merely on human practicality subject to the taint of sin, that it can also be the work of the Holy Spirit leading us to develop a system of oversight in order to benefit the outworking of the mission?

For example, a rec hockey league, in order to play the game, has certain recurrent needs: Equiptment, an arena to book, money to pay for ice time, a schedule, teams to play each other, etc. An institutional structure needs to be put in place in order to make this easier on the players so that they can just go out and play hockey. While it might seem like these details are a burden on the game, from another perspective they exist for the good of the game because without them it couldn't be played at all. From this angle, the institution promotes the common good because it releases the players to focus on their goals rather than worrying about internal needs.

Could this be true of the Church as well? Could it be that we require certain people and plans to regulate and fulfill the tasks of administration in order to free up others to do the other work. Wouldn't it be true then that these same structures, when working at their best, are actually also on the side of the mission as well?

This is not to deny that institutions can be deformed and used to promote group biases and maintain power. These are the besetting sins that come with the territory. But, by God's grace, they can also be instruments of the divine. They can be more than necessary evils, they can be necessary goods. Rather than abandoning them altogether, why not engage in constant vigilance against their distortions towards reconscilation?

Peace be with you.

Theodrama

2004-11-03T23:54:00.000-05:00

I recently was given links to a couple blog/forums of some stimulating friends of years gone by, Edmontonians all. Dissatisfaction with the Church has lead them to some significant thinking and rethinking about the future, or lack therof, of the Old Evangelicalism. One of the percieved problems seems to be a Church that glories in itself and its doctrine rather than mucking it up in the dirt of human history.

I believe this discussion may benefit from an explanation of the contrast between what are called "epic" and "dramatic" visions of the Christian life. My vocabulary here builds from the work of the Swiss Catholic theologian Hans urs Von Bathasar. I think much of it will resonate with some of the concerns I've seen expressed here by others. I hope it might supply some categories to articulate the differences between the developing understandings of the nature and mission of the Church, and that of classical Protestant Evangelicalism.

The epic play is one in which the reader knows the story and how it ends. "Epic" approaches to theology, most common in modernity, are essentially spectatorial and depict the Christian life from the outside and with a degree of extraction, like a painting that captures a whole narrative in one frame. A true dramatic play is full of shift, suspense and surprise - throwing the reader into the fray of confusion along with the characters. Thus a theologically "dramatic" approach allows recognition that we are still on the way, that the play is still unfolding, that we are a part of it, and that our understanding, and especially our desire to claim total comprehension (and thus quasi-apocalyptic resolution) of our situation, should be chastened by the recognition that more awaits us in the future.

An epic minded Christian will be interested in a tidy system of belief and practice and will expect that the plot will run along mechanically towards a predictable end; he will want his Church to be a blueprint of completeness, normativity, universal application, and systematic coherence. This leads to an attitude that claims to have all the answers, and nothing more to learn. This is painfully all too familiar.

The dramatic follower of Christ revels only in the boast of the Apostle Paul - in the Cross of Jesus Christ. She will endure struggle, growth, and decline, twisting and turning with the plot, aware that God will have some surprises in store regarding how things turn out in the end. She will have an expectation of learning from unexpected partners in the play - truth from other religions, lessons from the social outcast, etc. This is a breath of the Spirit of renewal.

Evangelicalism struggles to be reborn from the epic to the dramatic. Ecclesia semper
reformanda est.

For your consideration and encouragement, the contemporary Catholic Church, although not without its own issues and remaining epic qualities, has been on the move in the latter direction as well. Stereotypically much more tradition oriented and institutionalized than conventional Evangelicalism (although some Evangelical churches are far more wooden in their views but just don't acknowledge it on paper), there is a deep-rooted Catholic spirituality that embraces the dramatic divine-human interplay and celebrates and encourages a faith that is real, earthy, sincerely communal, and holistically missional. While it is sometimes incorrectly characterized as a massive unchangeable religious monolith, the Catholic Church has, and in fact always is undergoing periods of tremendous shift and development. Perhaps its greatest strength, and the reason it has lasted the test of time, is its ability to understand that God's Revelation is dynamic enough to allow itself to be dramatically translated for new times and places, and that the Church must be embracing of new forms of worship and new doctrinal expressions. Sometimes this seems a slow process, but sometimes things happen fast.

In the new evolution, we will have partners we do not expect.

Rahner was an amateur

2004-09-24T15:11:00.000-04:00

Karl Rahner was a giant of Catholic theology in the 20th century (A lot of his writing was published in the 1960's and 70's). He engaged with the Wittgensteinian idea of language in multiple levels of meaning - i.e. that language doesn't stand still but shifts in its meaning all the time. He was also very quick on the uptake that 'Systematic' theology was over: as a late modernist ("pre-post-modern"?), he was already setting about writing theology in a different form. He called it 'Investigations'.

Rahner, as a Catholic, was from a tradition that holds continuity in absolute importance: For a Catholic, evolution isn't an option. Somehow though, Rahner was able at the same time to be faithful to his tradition, while being completely engaged with the culture and changing ideas of the period in which he lived, and developing and re-expressing theological ideas in forms that rendered them meaningful within their context. (Although, it must be said, he's not an easy read! When his brother embarked upon an English translation, someone encouraged him, saying "It would be so good to see Karl's work translated into English!" The brother wryly commented, "It would be good to see it translated into German!")

Rahner described himself as an 'Amateur'. He wanted the freedom of NOT being a professional theologian - with all the baggage that brings - so he placed his emphasis on being a priest, thus gaining the space to do theology, to some extent at least, on his own terms. But mostly, he described himself as an 'Amateur' in the original meaning of the word - someone who does something not through obligation, but simply for the love of it.

I like the description of doing theology that says its like "a little boy playing in the mud". I think, like mine, Rahner's eyes would have twinkled at that idea too.

Theosis

2004-09-07T11:35:00.000-04:00

Anyone who's listened closely to the words of the Catholic Eucharistic liturgy will remember that it contains words something to the effect of "by the mystery of this water mixed with wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity". In one of his letters, St. Athanasius, the fourth-century defender of the faith, made his famous statement that the Son of God became man "that he might deify us in himself." In his great work, On the Incarnation, he wrote similarly that Christ "was made man that we might be made God." Peter writes in his second epistle that our Lord's "divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness," so that through his promises we "may participate in [literally, "become sharers (koinonoi) of"] the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires" (2 Pet. 1:4). All of these examples speak of the doctrine that is known variously under the synonymous names of theosis, deification, divinization, or, as I prefer, participation in God.

The idea of deification, of humanity somehow participating in the Divine, is an idea more likely associated these days with New Age or Eastern religions such as various branches of Buddhism. In reality however, this is doctrine with Christian roots as far back as the ante-Nicene period (roughly the late 2nd to 3rd Century A.D.), and is found to a surprising extent throughout Christian history, despite it being practically unknown to the majority of Christians today (and even many theologians) in the Church of the West. In Orthodox theology however, it is a controlling doctrine. I would go so far as to suggest that it is not too much to say that the divinization of humanity is the central theme, chief aim, basic purpose, or primary religious ideal of Orthodoxy. With the growing interest in fostering dialogue and mutual understanding between Eastern Orthodox and Evangelical Christians, I believe it is essential that theosis studies be pursued. We Evangelicals may receive considerable benefit from a clear understanding and judicious appropriation of the doctrine. This is so particularly in light of the crying need for a robust biblical theology of the Christian life that will refute and replace the plethora of false spiritualities plaguing contemporary Church and society. Perhaps it is my own hunger for such a spiritual life that I have of late been captured by this concept and have felt the need to explore it further. In the coming weeks I will probably toss out a few thoughts here and there as I sort through some ideas and try to take hold of them for my own life. Those of you who have started to read some of my posts on this blog will likely see a few of my steps in that process. I understand that the territory I may venture into is new and that I may sometimes sound like I've gone off the deep end. Try not to worry too much if I sound like a wacko - I'm probably just speculating something a little out there to help me define the line of Orthodoxy (theology by reduction as my friend Joel and I so often do in our heretic humor). It is my hope that through a careful study of theosis which both affirms and critiques, this venerable concept might be appropriated in a way that is attractive to the contemporary North American Evangelical Church and that enriches the way we live out our Christianity.

At this point I'm just beginning to pull together some thoughts on the subject. At present, all I have to put forward is my working personal definition of theosis in language that I think is more comfortable and customary for Evangelical Christians. As I think on it more, I hope to draw some conclusions on how this doctrine can make a difference in practical life matters, as well as answer some of the tough issues it raises in regards to such things as the Incarnation of Christ and the nature of humanity in our Eschatological state.

But for now, my definition: With the fall of humanity and the advent of sin, we did not loose the image of God we were created with, but rather we damaged the likeness (Gen. 1:26). Theosis, as I understand it, is the reintegration of the divine likeness of humanity's original creation back into our human natures which have been seriously distorted by the fall. This work of redemption was made possible by the hypostatic union, death, and resurrection of the eternal Logos who was Incarnate in the historical person we know as Jesus of Nazareth. The process occurs today through the application of divine grace and the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, conforming the redeemed person into the likeness of Christ and transitioning the believer from mortality to immortality so that we are enabled to participate in the bliss and beatific vision of eternal communion with God. In this life Christians grow more and more into the very likeness and character of God, as God was revealed in the man Jesus Christ. This is more than the customary Protestant concept of sanctification, however. In theosis, while there is no ontological change of humanity into deity, there is a very real impartation of the divine life to the whole human being - an ontological sharing in the Triune life of God, yet never in such a way that theosis means sharing in God's essence (nature), because the nature of God is utterly transcendent and therefore inaccessible to any created reality (thus all forms of pantheism are firmly rejected). Our deification will only be realized in its fullness in the age to come, after the resurrection of the dead. This union has, nevertheless, to be fulfilled ever more and more even in this present life through the redemption of our corruptible and depraved human nature as we move towards eternal dwelling with God face to face.

I'm not sure if that's of any benefit for anyone to read, but it certainly is helpful for me to write. I'd appreciate any questions or comments anyone might have on the subject, and I hope to return to it periodically over the coming weeks.

Peace out.

The Soliloquy

2004-09-06T23:02:00.000-04:00

From his seat in the back row, Kyle perchanced to think.

I can't believe ENG 383 is Shakespeare and not advanced CAD/CAM. Who cares why Hamlet can't avenge his father's death? I hate my stepfather, but you don't catch me talking to myself about it.

Kyle looked down over the rows of students. Although, he thought, I did think about killing him after he made me get another job to pay for school. It was that time in church. I was embarrassed to be next to him with his singing all loud and out of tune. Every time the minister said something about sacrifice he'd start "Amen"ing. I remember thinking, when the hell did he ever sacrifice anything? He spends most of his life on the sofa sitting on his wide ass watching wide screen TV. He won't even get up to buy his own beer. He makes me bring it on my way home from work. This is supposed to be the best time of my life, and I spend half of it bagging groceries. How could Mom marry such a jerk? Right then I pictured the big ceiling fan in the church dropping down on his head. But then I thought, I wouldn't want him to die in a church. Maybe I could arrange it so the TV would fall and crush him? Well, I guess I don't really want to kill him. I just think about it a lot is all.

Kyle glanced at his watch. My God, he thought, another half-hour? Won't this class ever end?

If God is for me who can be against me?

2004-09-06T08:31:00.000-04:00

Me...

The Skating Rink

2004-09-05T21:59:00.000-04:00

The music from the skating rink
Drifts across the town
The stars of heaven high above
Forever looking down
I stand here looking upward,
And I'm listening to the sound
Of the city in the lonely heart of winter

The lights above the skating rink
Illuminate the scene
And on the snow the shadows show
Footsteps where we've been
And Danny's breath hangs motionless
Hovers like a dream
Above his head, in the lonely heart of winter

The sky above the skating rink
The blackened weight of space
Falls endless on the frozen world
Upon the saving grace
Of the lights around the skating rink
Laughing in the face
Of the darkness at the lonely heart of winter

Coupe du Monde

2004-09-01T17:13:00.000-04:00

With the 2004 World Cup of Hockey kicking off this week I am again reminded of my deep love for the game. During the Olympics I heard several enlightened athletic elites criticize Canada because hockey is the only sport that our culture has really embraced. While it would be nice if we were good at swimming like Australia or gymnastics like Eastern Europe or Ping Pong like China, I fail to see why we need to despair that our best sport is and probably always will be hockey. You can't be the best at everything. It seems only fitting that different nations have different sports that they excel at. It reflects the diversity of talents and abilities that make up our world. Hockey is Canada's thing. Other countries are good at it too, but it is a part of us in a way that is not matched anywhere else. We appreciate it beyond the technical elements of the game to the point where it teaches us about ourselves and becomes a metaphore for life. There is something indescribable about a fresh sheet of ice and the sound of blades cutting in - the thud of a cold puck off the hard wood of the end boards - seeing your breath in clouds above you while you gasp for air on the bench between shifts - watching the twine bulge and the red light blink. There is a language to hockey; a code; an unwritten Scripture. We know it subconsciously and feel it inside. Names like Gretzky, Lemiuex, Orr, Howe -and now St. Louis, Iginla, Heatley - they evoke a lifetime of memories: that certain pass, how he flipped the puck just so, the hit at the blue line, that one timer from the slot in the dieing seconds. This is the narrative of our being - a part of who we are collectively as a nation. It is a thing of beauty. May it never die.

GO CANADA GO!

Have I ever mentioned-

2004-08-31T08:28:00.000-04:00

-I love my girlfriend?

Of making books there is no end...

2004-08-30T21:09:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine asked me to put together a list of what I consider "must read" books in the field of theology. Some are heavy and academic, some are mystical and devotional; they have all shaped my life dramatically. I know there's probably years of reading here, but its well worth it. I'd love to talk to anyone who's read some of these.
___________________________

St. Augustine, De Trinitate: Self proclaimed his most important work, this writing was absolutely critical in the development of Western Trinitarian theology.

St. Augustine, City of God: This is another foundational book that deals with many theological questions of the day and focuses particularily on Church-State issues and the relationship between Christianity and Roman culture.

St. Anselm, Cur Deus Homo: Probably the most significant theologian in between Augustine and Aquinas, this work is Very important in understanding the development of the legal nature of Western theologies of the Atonement.

St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica: Massive as it is, you have to have some Aquinas in your diet. I would suggest you especially try to look at the Secunda secudea pars and the Tertia pars (Volume 2 part 2, and Volume 3). His work is still the backbone of most Catholic thought. His style is unique in that he almost arrives at the orthodox position by showing how 4-5 other positions are subtley heretical. You can find the entire Summa online.

Martin Luther, The Large Catechism: If for no other reason you have to read some Luther just for the comedic value of listening to him rant about the pope. His writing style is extremely polemical but it certainly is essential to study his contribution to the Reformation, one which continues to be felt today among both Lutherans and Catholics. This Cathechism will give you a good look at a lot of different topics and is not too long. Its on the internet too.

John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion: Again its lengthy, but its the standard of Reformed theology. The best sections are Book 2 and Book 3. Calvin has a reputation for being a little depressing and dry, but the Institues are spiritually rich and pastoral and a pleasure to read even f you don't agree with them completely. This can also be found easily online.

Desiderius Erasmus, Praise of Folly: A satirical novel and apologetic work written by one of the key Christian figures of the renaissance era. Erasmus used to be called the "smartest man in Europe".

St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Spiritual Exercises: An intense 4 week process of deep contemplation, confession, and prayer; written by the founder of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits).

St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul: The writings of John of the Cross are unsurpassed for mystical theology. The style may stretch you at first, but Dark Night is a must-read for anyone seriously concerned about growing spiritually.

G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy: The personal flavour with which Chesterton describes his own process of coming to faith is very captivating. While reading it there are points where a light goes off and you think, "how could anyone not believe all this?". This book still serves today as a profound witness to the Christian world view.

Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling: A long essay about Abraham and Isaac that is full of powerful insights. Against the moral rationalism of Hegel, and on the "strenght of the absurd", it ultimately provides an affirmation of individual self-determination.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship: A serious and sober look at the price paid by God for our forgiveness (no cheap grace), and the obligation we bear in response to it. "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die"

Paul Tillich, The Courage to Be: Another existential theologian, this book analyzes the different personality types and their responses to despair. His basic concern is how we can be truly human.

Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics: While I am not really a big fan of Barth, he is a must read for any serious theologian. The portions of most importance are Vols. 2.2 and 4.1

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, Christianity and Evolution: Thought provoking even if some of it is a bit too out there. Its not about the creation/evolution discussion but more about how the history of the universe is in a continual process of development towards a completion at the omega point (Christ).

Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain: The best auto-biography I've read. Merton is amazing and this is a great look into his soul. Read as much as you can by him (especially Thoughts in Solitude and Seeds of Contemplation), but start with this.

Gustavo Gutierrez, A Theology of Liberation: Prophetic and timely, you need to read Gutierrez straight for yourself rather than just getting caught up in the fact that he's popular and its cool these days for intellectuals to care about the poor.

Jean Vanier, Becomming Human: The founder of L'Arch, Vanier's theological insight into people with developmental and intellectual disability is beautiful and revolutionary.

Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith: The most important Catholic theologian of the 20th Century and my personal favorite. This is a good accessible read and touches on the important themes of Rahner's thought.

Bernard Lonergan, Verbum: The most important Catholic philosopher of the 20th Century. If Mike didn't put him on your philosophy reading list he should have. You can also look at his book Insight as a good trancendental Thomist epistemology.

Jurgen Moltmann, The Crucified God: I find Moltmann's ideas to be some of the most stimulating of the late 20th Century Protestant theologians. His insights into the incarnation will probably be the most influential in the future. See also his Theology of Hope.

Robert Webber, Ancient-Future Faith: Webber is a specialist in the theology of worship. This book talks about how and why things like liturgy and sacraments and the church year are becomming increasingly attractive to evangelicals who have been starved for these things.

"Why don't you just become Catholic?"

2004-08-26T08:00:00.000-04:00

Hmmm... good question. Its one I've been asked several times, and I've felt the force of it particularily strongly as I've heard it a couple times again recently. I'm not even sure I have a firm answer just yet, but here are my scattered thoughts on the subject to this point:

Fortunately many Christians these days are beginning to get over denominationalism and are becomming more an more comfortable with considering people of different Church traditions as equally part of God's people. Though not entirely, the days of determining if someone gets to go to heaven by listening to the vocabulary they use when they pray or which hymns they sing are for the most part behind us. There is even some room being allowed for consideration that even those who do not explicitly profess faith or respond to God in the typical "Christian" way may also mysteriously be in touch with true revelation and the grace of Jesus Christ. It has become increasingly acceptable to myself and many others that God's Holy Spirit can even work through what is true among other religions, pointing the Muslim or the Buddhist towards the Gospel as the fulfillment of their spiritual longings much the same way that Judaism was directed towards revealing Christ in a prepatory way.

Because of this, it has become possible for me to see all people as having recieved different degrees of divine revelation, and to understand that there are corresponding requirements of response by each individual based on the revelation they have recieved. In other words, we are held accountable for what we know. Therefore, for example, someone who knows God through seeing his power and love in created nature, or through what they correctly understand of his ways through Hinduism, has a different level of response required of them than say someone like me who has grown up in Evangelical Protestant Christianity and will have the benifit of 10+ years of theological education. The same holds true between myself and someone who is a devout Roman Catholic. We are all held accountable in different - avoiding words of quantitative classification such as "higher" or "lower" - ways. Now where this comes into play in regards to why I havn't become Catholic is that although I have studied Catholicism and love and appreciate a very great deal of it, I do not feel as though I have had the unavoidable tug within my spirit that you hear about from such one time Protestant intellectuals such as G. K. Chesterton or John Henry Newman who have progressed towards the fold of Catholicism later in their lives. For lack of a more accurate term, I have not had a "conversion experience" - I, as of yet, do not believe I have been called to accountability as a Catholic.

A second reason that I have remained in my tradition is that I have long believed that switching denominations is a deeply serious business. The consumer mentality that has arisen which tells us that if you don't like the Baptist Church you go to just head down the block and go to the Pentacostal one is a dangerous one. In my opinion, the only reason you should leave a Church is because you have moved geographically, or because it has fallen so seriously into heretical teaching and practice and all your best efforts at bringing reform have been exhausted. As a long time adherant of the Christian and Missionary Alliance Church, the son of two parents who have both worked in a pastoral role in this denomination, an attendee of the Alliance Bible College and Seminary, and one who has himself worked in a pastoral role within this Church, I believe I owe something in this community. I do not agree with absolutely everything the Alliance teaches nor do I always perfectly resonate with their style of worship or philosophy of ministry. However, God has blessed this Church and continues to do so and I care about seeing that continue and working from the inside to bring about some of the changes I feel are in need rather than just giving up on it selfishly and going somewhere else on a whim. It would be more harmful to my family and friends and the greater Alliance community I am a part of to see me leave over a few minor issues that are hardly of critical doctrinal or moral failure. It would be a slap in the face. It is not worth causing offense just because I happen to really like the style or worship or the spiritual flavour of Catholicism. The better course of action is to commit to my denomination, appreciate its strenghts, and become involved in working on its weaknesses. This is my calling.

So there you have a rough sketch answer, subject to revision as all true theological convictions should be.

Peace

Still

2004-08-22T10:15:00.000-04:00

I am the harm that you inflict
I am your brilliance and frustration
I’m the nuclear bombs if they're to hit
I am your immaturity and your indignance
I am your misfits and your praised
I am your doubt and your conviction
I am your charity and your rape
I am your grasping and expectations

I see you averting your glances
I see you cheering on the war
I see you ignoring your children
And I love you still, and I love you still

I am your joy and your regret
I am your fury and your elation
I am your yearning and your sweat
I am your faithless and your religion

I see you altering history
I see you abusing the land
I see you and your selective amnesia
And I love you still, and I love you still

I am your tragedy and your fortune
I am your crisis and delight
I am your prophets and your profits
I am your art I am your vice
I am your death and your decision
I am your passion and your plight
I am your sickness and convalescence
I am your weapons and your life

I see you holding your grudges
I see you gunning them down
I see you silencing your sisters
And I love you still, and I love you still
I see you lie to you country
I see you forcing them out
I see you blaming each other
And I love you still, and I love you still

The Bar Across the Street

2004-08-12T20:47:00.000-04:00

This is a very short story I wrote a couple years ago and just recently edited again. Thought people might like to read it.

***

So then what happens is: There's nothing. And I mean nothing. Tending bar Friday nights at Belluci's across the way from the college; trying to get the Honda started in the wind chill; watching the Leafs lose to Jersey on TSN.

I said to Bellucci, not that there was anything in it for me, but I said to Bellucci something like: "Why don't you change the name of this broke-dick place and get some college kids in here to drink beer? Get some music in the box instead of this Kim Mitchell trash. Put a pinball machine or something in the corner. Show something pay-per-view for Chrisakes! They got thirty thousand kids across the street looking for a pitcher of Becks and a Radiohead record and you got this third string Anne Murray knockoff in the corner with a fingers-on-the-chalkboard voice."

So then, when Bellucci hears enough, he goes: "Take a hike," which means get gone fast and don't come back. When you know Bellucci three minutes, you know how to read between the lines.

"Pack it in your kazoo," is my reply as I unhook my poncho from the nub and hit the door. With Bellucci, it's safer to read insults from long distance, or refrain altogether. Big as he is, you can't tell where the fat leaves off and the muscles begin.

"I'm leavin'," I said as I stopped by the open door.

He turned. His face fell slack. His jaw dropped and his mouth sunk open in mock surprise. "T'row a party for yourself."

That was the last time I saw him - until later when I had to ask him for my job back.

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Weinrhoder got rich somehow, trading fat-backs and rat-tails on the commodity exchange. He'd buy them when nobody wanted them and sell the rights when the scarcity set in. He sits around the bar a lot and sucks on limes that I float for him in a glass of gin. He says this is the only country in the world where you can get on a train and leave town without checking in with the authorities. "It's still possible to become a millionaire here," he says, "as long as you don't file any taxes." He bores the shit out of me really, except that I figure if a dumbass like him can make it, there's still some hope for me.

Zeidel is a weight lifter for Barbell City, down three blocks. He'll show you how to ride the stationary bicycle and how to row on the rowing machine. They pay him for this with a cardboard, computerized check from the home office, which I take from him on Friday nights and turn it into about twenty bottles of Lite beer from Miller, and then I give him the change. He told me how, although he is Jewish himself, he questions the Jew. "Too much emphasis on the affairs of the mind," he says, "to the neglect of the body. A healthy body and a healthy mind are one and the same. To neglect the body is to squander a valuable inheritance. Kill the body and you kill the head."

He told me the only thing he hates more than a phony intellectual is an underdeveloped pair of biceps or a man who didn't know where his next meal was coming from.

"Damn right," I told him, pretending to be listening. "I think you touched on something there." He tries to be friendly but on Friday nights, I started wearing long-sleeved shirts.

"What some of these stick-necked intellectuals need is a good beating," he said to me one night. I'm not an intellectual but when I'm working behind the bar, and everybody gets really drunko, I could be mistaken for one, and I'm truly on the cusp of being a stick-neck, so now I hang down the other end of the bar when he comes in, visiting only when he bangs his empties on the hardwood.

Craven owns the copy-shop across the street. "I'm sick of dealing with the public," he says. "I'm sick of all the mealy-mouthed mutts who want something for nothing. One day I'll set a match to the whole frieken' thing. I don't care if the whole goddamned block burns down."

Loughlin drives one of those beverage trucks. One night when Rev. Jesse Jackson comes on TV, Loughlin takes his hi-ball glass and heaves it at the screen and cracks the goddamned thing. Everybody ducks like it was a bullet until they realize it's just Loughlin again. "I hate that sonofabitch," he says. "Don't worry, I'll pay for the damages."

Mr. Gwynne is a banker. Branch manager. Steps in, has a few. Brings in a girl friend from the bank now and then because everbody in here could care less. Told me his wife goes to Colorado in the winter and Miami in the summer because she loves the intensity of the seasons. I used to give him the odd short beer like on the house, when Bellucci was gone of course. We talked politics: Pine Ridge, El Salvador, third world debt relief, the usual BS. I'd Soften him up, let him sound important. Then I bang on him for a loan. All I wanted was half decent car, not a loft in Yorkville.

"You think I could get me a car loan?" I ask him. "I can get it anywhere, but I figure, you're a customer, I'll throw you the business."

"Oh, no, no," he says. "I don't handle that stuff, I don't do anything under half a million, and even then, only to corporations, business loans."

I told him, "Loan me half a million, I'll give you back four hundred ninety-five right there at the table." I only need a used shit-box that starts up in the winter.

"Wish I could, my boy," he says. "It's just not my department."

Later, I see him downtown one day, squeezing his fat ass out of an twelve-year-old Chevvie and I realize he's broker than I am. From then on, he pays for his own drinks and I give him the cold shoulder. One Friday night when Zeidel is good and drunked-up, I'll whisper in his ear that that guy Gwynne down the end of the bar thinks you're a fag.

Stephen floats in on weekends to listen to the fingers-on-the-chalkboard voice. He's into interior design and I think he's got his eye on Freddie the piano player. Stephen wears those tight slacks and a Byron short, close at the waist, and billowy in the sleeve. One Friday he asks me if I want to go on a Sunday picnic with him in his restored MG. I told Bellucci: "Get rid of these gayblades or pretty soon they'll be dancing naked on the bar. And that includes Freddie."

Bellucci says Freddie is an artist and he comes cheap. Stephen drinks Marguerites and pays cash. "Besides, he's a fashion designer, that don't make him a queer."

"Maybe," I tell him, "he'll write this place up in Better Bars and Gardens."

Bellucci teaches some sort of real estate course two nights a week at some community centre up the road. He snuck in there through somebody he knows when nobody was looking. I guess it proves he does have that degree from Seneca like he says, but it forebodes bad times for his students. If the kids' parents ever for a look at Bellucci's expertise in real estate, they'd send their punks into the army for training, like in the old days.

I can only imagine this pile of mashed potatoes teaching somebody about floating mortgages, prime rates, equity-income ratios, etcetera, when he not only doesn't own a piece of real estate himself after forty-six years on the earth, but is even four months behind in his rent on the bar, and (he brags about this part) he hasn't filed a tax return since '76. So much for higher education.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So Bellucci takes off for Florida in February like every other bar-owner in the world. He goes down there to Lauderdale with his Bermuda shorts and thirty pairs of mid-calve socks, the shoes on his feet, three pairs of underwear, one blue Izod shirt, one green Izod shirt, one "Bellucci's Bar and Lounge" tee shirt and a green, plastic-peak half-hat with a band around the back.

He meets the other bar owners from New York, Boston, and Philadelphia and they bounce around the cocktail lounges with their shorts and their socks and their brown shoes. They throw around tips like a gang of Babe Ruths. The biggest tipper in the world was not John D. Rockefeller, he was a bar-owner with a load on. When he's up and around and sober, he won't give you the fuzz off a tennis ball, but put a shot of Jack Daniels in front of him with a beer chaser and he'll donate his liver and eyeballs to science. He'll leave a day's pay on the bar on the way to the next joint. Don't ask me why, that's just the way it is. It's tradition and the ginmill jockey who thinks he can do it differently is either new at the job or he will soon find himself a new occupation. It becomes clear to everybody that he doesn't belong.

Anyway, Bellucci does the wings of man and here I am, Undersecretary for Barroom Affairs, left in charge. Face the Nation. Shit-face the nation. The Honda's fuel pump is shot, and the exhaust system finally rotted its way into Japanese heaven. It's parked up at Yonge and Finch with a flat left rear. I think it has finally lost its will to live. It shows no interest and fails to recognize me. The headlights and grill are covered with frozen mud and somebody snapped off the aerial. One windshield wiper is in the up position, the other is gone altogether. Bleak city is the ditty. At this point, a smart guy realizes that bad as it is, it could be worse. You never know when there might be a new Terror Alert.

So, while Bellucci is gone, I devise a little merchandising ploy to put the place on the map. The method I'm not prepared to reveal because I'm truthfully thinking of taking this concept public and franchising it again and again around the world. International. Five days didn't go by from its inception to the point where there were lines of people literally out into the street trying to get in. Even the regulars, Weinrhoder, Zeidel, Craven, they can't get in anymore. It's too packed.

When Bellucci comes back from sun city, he can't believe his Italian eyeballs. He shoulders his way in, bull that he is, by bogarting his way past the people in front of the line. He muscles his way to the bar and ends up with his head between these two cougers who do Amaretto and are here almost constantly since about two days after my innovation, my master-stroke. Donald Trump would probably like to talk to me about this.

Bellucci, with his arms around these two old babes, leans up real close to the bar where he can get my attention. His eyes are wide and white, his nostrils flaring with excitement.

"Kid," he hollers, "this is incredible. There must be two hundred people crammed in here and another two hundred and fifty outside tryin' to get in. It's a zoo. I love it!"

"Go home," I tell him, loudly. "Give me one more week and I'll have this place floating. I haven't even started with my marketing. This place will be more famous than the Lido. 426-5050? Don't make me lose my chain of thought."

"No, no," he hollers. "You do it. You do it, kid."

"I can't have nobody bothering me," I tell him. "You go home. Come back in a week."

"Right," he says. "Right, I'm goin'." He looks square at the two women, one to the other. He's got a grin on his face like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"Are you ladies enjoying yourselves?" he shouts.

"Oh, yes," says one. "We adore this place."

"Great, great," squeals Bellucci. "I love it."

People are clamoring up and down the bar for drinks. Others are fighting their way from ten deep to get to the mahogany. "This is the owner," I say to the ladies.

"How nice," says one, the smaller one with glasses. "We're here all the time, every chance we get. Your bartender is a wonderful young man."

"The best," screams Bellucci. "The best!" He's smiling like a whale, his lower jaw open, his bottom teeth exposed, his tonsils dancing like Astaire and Rogers.

"We've been coming here for over a week," says the gray-haired, fatter one. "And he hasn't charged us for a drink yet."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So then what happens is: There's nothing. And I mean nothing. I said to Bellucci, not that there was anything in it for me, but I said to Bellucci something like: "Get bent." This is after he fires me. I told him too, don't think I'm going to do the Billy Martin thing where you hire me back and forth every time you get in a jam. Once I leave, that's it."

"Take a royal hike," say Bellucci. "I'll put my size 11 so far up your ass, the inside of your head will smell like leather."

That's the way he feels about it. Enough said. Some guys are afraid to spend a little money in the interest of promoting their business. Johnson's Floor Wax spends about twenty million a year getting their name in front of the public. Bellucci's brain curdles at the thought of a few shots that don't immediately translate into coin of the realm. That is why Johnson's are waxing the shit out of the western world and Bellucci is all out of roach spray.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days into the off-season and Zeidel and Loughlin catch up to me. "Let's go," they say. "We're takin' you out for a few pops."

"Oh, what's the use," I say. "Everything falls apart. That's the way it goes. It's entropy. It's Einstein. It's the quantum factor."

"Your ass is the quantum factor," says Zeidel. "All of a sudden you're a smart guy?"

"Hell no," says I, lying. "It's just that everything I got is broke, including me."

"Hey," says Loughlin, "you're with us, you don't go to your pocket. There's people waiting for us."

Before you know it, we're across from the college and I'm being dragged into Bellucci's. Craven is there in the corner. With Weinrhoder. And Gwynne. The big tub of whaleshit, the owner himself, is there, sitting at the same table, the wrong way on a chair with his eggplant forearms crossed over the top. He's lecturing them like he's John Kenneth Galbraith.

"Here he is," says Weinrhoder.

"Bring him over here," says Craven.

"Sit him in the chair," goes Bellucci.

"We thought we was a friend of yours," says Zeidel from behind, where he's got his claws dug into my trapezoids.

"You are," I say.

"You ran out on us," says Gwynne. "I told you I can't give you a loan. It's the bank, it's not me."

"I didn't run out on nobody," I say. "I was three feet in front of a size 11. That's not running out. That's self preservation!"

"So what are you gonna do?" asks Loughlin.

"Live in my car. Lose a lot of weight. Get my goddamned MBA and get done with it. Don't worry about me. Two years and I'm on Bay Street."

"Bay Street, your ass," says Zeidel.

"It's like this," says Craven. "Mr. Bellucci and us, we got an understanding. You don't work here, we don't drink here. And that's not Woody Allen talking. Who's talking is five right-down-to-the-wire alcoholics. Mr. Bellucci here, he sees you in a new light. He wants to give you your job back. Like a manager's assistant while you go to school."

I look at Bellucci square-on. "That right, fat-man?"

He hesitates five seconds to get his Italian temper back in the box. His eyes open up wide and he starts to chew on his tongue. "I'd like to have you back, kid. It's not that these guys spend a few hundred a week in here, neither. You got good ideas; you just get carried away a little. Just ask me before you do something crazy next time. By the way, if you do get to Bay Street, try calling the boss a fat man, see if he's as nice as me."

"You guys are all right," I say. "It's nice to be wanted."

And it is. Yeah, it can hold you back from a lot of things you should be doing, but when you add up all the columns, what the hell else is there in this short, narrow little life that makes a lot more sense than that? What?

santa maria!

2004-08-11T16:59:00.000-04:00

Let me establish two points of information before I tell this story. First you should know that for the summer of 2004 I have a gig as a glorified janitor at an wealthy suburban Church. You know the kind - with either mint green or fushia upholstery and accents. This gives me a unique persective on North American Evangelicalism because I get to see what rich Christians consider garbage.

Secondly, I am desperately in love with Sacramental Theology. Basically that means I like my Christianity soaked and dripping with liturgy, ritual, sybolism and tradition. Because of this, I have a very high view of the significance of the Eucharist (Communion as we usually call it to avoid sounding too Catholic). While I know the casual manner in which these acts are treated by many evangelical churches is for the most part harmless and well intentioned, we've gotten out of control when people begin to detest communion because it means they have to stay an extra 15 minutes in the service on Sunday morning and that the roast might go dry or they'll miss their Tee-time. I do my best not to be critical (at least not mean spirited) and to derive as much meaning as I can from the way we do Communion, while supplementing with the occasional trip to placate myself when the need arises. Of course, sadly, I can't participate in the Catholic Eucharist, but just seeing other people do it is usually enough to satisfy me.

These things established, imagine my horror when I walked in to change the garbage bins in the Church on Monday morning after a Communion Sunday. Trays and trays full of unused stoned wheat thins - the crackers broken for the sins of the world - the body of Christ, given for you - just dumped in the trash. I'll admit I crossed myself and considered doing my duty in line with Canonical practice by eating the reserve, but there were just too many.

I tell this story with a bit of tongue in cheek. I know the Zwinglian theology behind it and that the Alliance Church comes by it innocently. I don't think Jesus will be too mad about it in the long run. But, shouldn't it give us pause to rethink what we are doing when we participate in the Lord's Supper? We don't all have to believe in transubstantiation, but shouldn't there be a middle ground somewhere? Surely, if anything, this one act should be given some special consideration and not just put on the same level as the extra bulletins we printed being run through the paper shredder. Christ gave us the Sacrament of his body and blood for a reason. It is special. It is a source of connection to the grace of God that we don't recieve by other means. If it isn't, why do we do it? Just because Jesus said we have to? I hope our love of Christ is bigger than that.

Just some good natured thoughts - not a Temple clearing.

Peace be with you.

filles folles

2004-08-10T19:33:00.000-04:00

While the event you are about to hear described took place several weeks ago now, rest assured it is definately blog worthy. It has most of the unbelievable elements of the opening scene of a cheesy porn movie, and yet took place in the real life of a mild mannered budding theologian on his way home from Church.

I was riding home on the subway after a night of work at Bayview Glen Alliance Church in North Toronto. As is frequently the case, I was making use of the 20 minutes of travel time by reading a good book. On this occasion it was the venerable German Jesuit Herr Karl Rahner, PhD DPhil. As my eyes scanned a section dealing with transcendental revelation, my ears were perked by a female voice in the seat next to me saying "are you going out tonight?". I looked up to see that this girl, rather attractive in her early 20s with a slight accent, was accompanied by two others of similar description. Thinking they must be speaking to someone else, I glanced back down at my page. Again the voice, but this time "hey.. we're just trying to be nice.. people in Toronto are so rude". She's talking to me? "Oh um.. sorry.. I didn't realize you were talking to me.. no, i'm going home.. I just finished work". One of the companions, the one on the left, chimed in for the first time, "where do you live?". "Downtown.. near the UofT" I answered. This time it was the companion on the right's turn, "do you go there?". "I do, yes". Back to the first girl in the middle again, "what do you study". At this point I'm beginning to feel like I'm being interviewed for something, and I rarely perform well in interviews. Also, I often dread the question "what do you study" because when my answer is "theology" it usually means a very awkward few minutes of conversation ahead of me. This occasion was no different - in fact, it will no doubt go on record as the most memorable and uncomfortable of all. A few questions go back and forth and it turns out that these three young ladies are Catholic girls from Montreal. They "have their beliefs" but "don't follow them that closely". It becomes Obvious that the extent of their understanding of what it means to study theology consists of "so you don't get to have sex". I tell them I'm not going to be a priest so I am allowed, but it really is too late - these girls have something to play with now and they decide to run with it. "So, are you a virgin?" they ask. I know, I'm supposed to be ashamed of it but I answered them truthfully anyway, "yes, I am". The ladies are in full stride now, making a game of it - lets get the little virgin priest boy hot under the collar. As if it wasn't bad enough, their next question puts it over the top. "Are you gay?". My answer is a fairly confident "no", but they persist. "Well, if you've never f*cked a girl, how do you know you're not gay?". I attempt to mumble out something about sexual orientation being defined by more than the act of intercourse, but I wasn't in top debating form at the time due to the fact that my jaw was still on the floor. Then, the coup de gras, "we have condoms with us... and we're headed to a party at this hotel on Yonge and Bloor... you should come join us". Fortunately, on this occasion at least, I have a pretty low self esteem. This allows me to assume that there was no way these girls are serious and that they are just doing this to mess with me and amuse themselves so I manage to turn down their proposition relatively cool and unshaken.

I spent the final two stops before my destination trying to pretend to read my theology text while the girls whispered that I probably thought they were the devil. I don't know who they were, but they're still "on the loose" - with all puns intended - so keep your wits about you boys.

Begin Again

2004-08-10T02:43:00.000-04:00

On the advice of a couple good friends who have already embarked on the Blog enterprise, I have decided to jump into the fray. I remember the first time I heard of the idea of Blogging a year or so ago on some late afternoon 'get net savvy' type TV show, my first thought was "now all those pseudo-intellectual type guys who are wannabe writers will go around saying they're material has been published as a way to pick up girls". Now while i've never had much luck enticing the ladies with anything I do or say, I certainly am a pseudo-intellectual, so I guess I at least half fit the bill.

I study God for a living. (I know, I know, I can't believe they pay people to do that shit either but its true). Thus, many of my postings will probably be of an ecclesial nature: Either friendly ranting against my semi-FUNdamentalist Christian upbringing, or smitten remarks about post Vatican II Roman Catholicism. I used to fancy myself as one who had his ear to the ground on politics, art, music, and literature so there may be some of that too from time to time. And, I bleed the copper and blue of the Edmonton Oilers so I will rise and fall with them like the tides of my life (hockey and Christianity are intimately connected... ask me about it sometime). But, for my first entry, I thought it would be appropriate to recall a few things about the two aforementioned friends who inspired me to do this: Jeff C. M.D., and Sir Robbie J.

Jeff is my second longest serving friend. Our parents knew each other when the two of us were but toddlers. His Father is a gynocologist, his mother a benevolant dictator. While Jeff has 4 other siblings, I myself am an only child. They say only children develop fraternal bonds with one or two close friends. I would say Jeff is one of these. Although we've been geographically quite far apart now for 7-8 years, and neither of us are very good at keeping in touch, we always pick right up where we left off. In the future I will call on him to perform my coronary bipass surgery or blast away my kidney stones. In return, I don't know, maybe I'll baptize his kids into the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church. It all evens out, and we will always remain friends.

Robbie I have known I believe since the end of the 7th grade. I remeber playing lunchtime pickup basketball against him on the outside courts at Hillcrest Jr. High (home of the Mustangs), and we were both the biggest guys on our teams. I don't think I ever told him this but it was Pastor Paul Silcock who suggested Robbie and I become friends because we wanted to get him to come out to the Beulah Youth Group (damn Christians and their prostelytizing!). In spite of this, we did end up getting along very well and would go on to spend many an afternoon in Robbie's basement playing Super Nintendo, messing with the mind of our computer teacher Mr. Campsall, interacting with our special ed. friends EJ, Roy, and Keith, and trying to avoid being yelled at to get our "heads out of our asses" by our Football coach Mr. Belmont. I've always appreciated Robbie's adventerous side, his diversity of tastes, his ability to work hard, and his very evident concern for others.

So, thank you gents, and I'll see you in the days to come.