another sign that america is soft

i’m pretty stoked about the new movie 300. i can’t wait to see it. i’m pretty sure on my birthday, my lovely and gracious wife is going to take me to the show and suffer through this testosterone laden movie. the movie is based on a graphic novel, which was based on a movie, which was based on the historical battle of thermopolis, where the 300 spartans took on a million persians in a three day battle. inevitably, the spartans were all killed. wow. gives me goose bumps just thinking about such sacrifice in the face of such odds. to switch gears a bit – i often see sports as a microcosm of life. and in light of the defeat of the spartans, it sickens me to see such goofiness as what has become known as the 50 point rule in connecticut. you see, in that great state, it has now become too uncomfortable to beat your opponent by more than 50 points in high school football. if you do so, even with your third and fourth string players, running the ball every offensive down and playing the prevent on defense the entire game, the coach of the winning team is suspended for the next game. thank goodness this rule was not in place in 1916 when john heisman coached his georgia tech team to a 222-0 score against cumberland. and what’s up with the new rule in washington state that bans booing at high school sporting events? officials claim that if booing is outlawed, a more welcoming environment on the courts and fields will be fostered. are you kidding me? first amendment issues aside, how in the world can you regulate something like this? and what does this teach our youth about society? well, let me assure you that those 300 spartans at thermopolis did not give a rat’s behind whether or not the persians felt welcome in their house, and i’m pretty sure the persians were not at all concerned about running up the score. . . in fact, if they had been, they probably would have lost outright. all this is to say, that america is soft. war is ugly, but the stakes are too high to pussyfoot around. either go in and win it decisively and out right, without question (the persians did and the islamic extremists would if they could) – or get out. after all – if we can’t even handle our kids getting booed or losing a game by 50 in a high school sporting event, we should not be surprised that our society can’t stomach the difficulties that make up the essence and realities of war.

e pluribus unum?

early last month an article in the Dallas Morning News caught my eye. Pizza Patron, a pizzeria that "caters heavily to Latinos," began taking pesos as payment. although i do have my opinions on our nation’s apparent open border policies, as a business decision, i assumed that i could not care any less whether or not an establishment wanted to take the time and effort necessary to convert pesos to dollars or euros or vice versa or whatever. it did not really effect me in south mississippi. boy, was i mistaken. last saturday, my daughter and i followed our weekend ritual, frequenting the local shipley’s donuts (which i must say beats the socks off krispi kremes). we got our usual - one plain cake doughnut for her, one chocolate glazed cream filled for me, and change for the coke machine and the newspaper stand. as i tried to purchase a diet coke from the machine (yes, i realize the paradox of eating doughnuts with sugar-free beverages . . . hey, i pick my battles, ok?), one of my quarters kept getting kicked out through the coin return slot. now, at 8:00am on a saturday, i’m not the sharpest joker in the room; repeatedly, i kept futilely sticking the quarter back into the slot, each time jamming it with a tad more force and a bit more frustration, thinking if i could spin the coin just right, the quarter would fall on through and my diet coke would be dispensed to me in a timely fashion. only after about the twentieth attempt did i actually take a moment to look at the quarter. my first thought was, "gee, that’s one of them new finagled jobs. wonder what state it’s from." my second thought was, "that’s the most bizarre depiction of george washington i’ve ever seen. i think he’s wearin’ a do rag and mardi gras beads." and then i realized it was not even a quarter. it was a peso with the likeness not of our founding father, but of jose ma morelos, warrior priest (i had to look that up later). i immediately tried to exchange the peso for a quarter at the registar. you can imagine how that went over in south mississippi. probably would’ve been a whole other story at the Pizza Patron in dallas.

sos, different election cycle

one of the things that most disturbs me about politics is the lack of genuineness on the part of the players involved on the national stage. it does not matter which party or which candidate, but the level of disingenuousness is irksome, at best. for example, you can’t be a conservative and think spending beyond one’s means is healthy. as a conservative, i think the republicans have squandered the last decade in this area and have given away the farm, so i’m not really talking about sides here in this post. but, when a candidate’s major mantra is about “two americas,” i can’t help but think of the striking insincerity of owning a 28,000 square foot home on 102 acres. it seems that john edwards has whole-heartedly embraced the notion reagan set forth when he said of the republicans, “We’re the party that wants to see an American in which people can still get rich.” welcome aboard, johnny boy.

what country do you think this is?

i live in a growing hamlet in south mississippi. over the past decade our small “town” has been experiencing the pains that come along with that growth. the major concern for most of us is the amount of crime that has affected our fair city, especially in the last year. we had a 145% (not a misprint) increase in the murder rate, and felonies over-all jumped from 1,743 to 2,178. just this last week, there was a shoot-out one block down and three streets over from my home. last year there was a shot fired in the street immediately in front of my own home. the police department appears to be impotent, and the system seems broken. a gentleman was killed in a parking lot last year in front of his daughter while just this week, a grad jury refused to indict the suspect even though witnesses saw the suspect strike the victim in the head with brass knuckles. speculation is that the local police botched the investigation and did not gather enough evidence to prosecute the suspect. in fact, he was never even arrested. what bugs me is that the police chief cited in both print and television media outlets that one of the three main reasons crime is up is because of “insufficient vigilance on the part of citizens. many of the crimes during 2006 were crimes of opportunity, Wynn said, adding that people need to take precautions to avoid being targets for thieves.” so let me get this straight - i’m supposed to make sure no one shoots someone else? this is a personal slap in the face as i have, on multiple occasions, implored the chief and his department to investigate and shut down the drug traffic in my neighborhood. i have pointed out dealers, suppliers, and buyers to the local police, but have been told repeatedly that the police can not do anything unless they see the activity for themselves. the police have a standing invitation to use my front porch as a surveillance post at their convenience. they have yet to take me up on the offer. and yet, in a city such as this, the city council has, in its wisdom, decided to ban smoking in bars and restaurants. a line from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off keeps echoing through my head - “What country do you think this is?” i mean we can’t keep the murder rate down or the drug traffic off our streets, but we’re going to attempt to ban a legal substance from being used in establishments which are owned by tax-paying citizens? makes me want to cuss. and fire up a fine imported fatty right in front of the police department. which has an ash-tray just outside its lobby. which is well within the distance one must not be occupying while smoking.

you gonna eat that last piece of bacon?

sadly, football season is drawing to a close. the tigers didn’t do too shabbily, and did what they could to prove to the collegiate world that the SEC is the best conference in college football, bar none (just a foot note here . . . the tigers were the only team to beat those national championship gators this season). the ‘boys, on the other hand, just about drove me slap insane. for those of you keeping score at home, he who shall not be named led the league in dropped passes. is this like babe ruth leading the league in strikeouts? somehow i think not. i hope the era of the big tuna in big d is not over, but who knows what the off season mind of j. j. might dream up. the pearl river bunch managed to make it to the national championship game at the juco level but alas, victory eluded them (unfortunately for some both on the field and in the classroom). sometimes i wish, ever so briefly, that i had been born without the gene that makes one give a flying hoot about sports. it would make life so much more simple on fall and winter weekends. but then again, life would not be nearly as much fun with out gridiron competition. so - with that said - let’s look to the future. predictions: #1 - the tuna will stay, as will he who shall not be named, tony romo will rebound and go on to become one of the more stable qbs dallas has had since aikman. #2 - the hire of nick saban will prove not to be the salvation of crimson tide football, but will serve as a model of american appetite for sport over academics. #3 - sometime in the next five years, pro qbs will be required to wear flags and/or, as terry bradshaw has mentioned elsewhere, dresses. #4 - my classroom will continue to be woefully under-equipped while the sports budget of my academic institution continues to grow and be supplemented by alumni.

happy ramahanukwansmas

three cheers for wal-mart! in these bleak days of november, there is cause for celebration indeed. wal-mart is wisely choosing to avoid the “holiday” season and embrace the “christmas” season. not exactly putting the christ back in christmas, and charlie brown still might lament the marketing savvy driving the shift, but nonetheless - a step in the right direction. at the very least, the message of christ might be conveyed via the christmas carols being played via muzak in their stores all across the land.

just do it

why i'm sick of he who shall not be named

there are multiple reasons that would make for a good blog, but if i wrote about them, i would become part of those who have been sucked in by the deadly siren that is he who is over rated and full of himself. so - i will just briefly say that jerry jones is a fool for bringing this circus to town; the cowboys could have had a special year without the likes of an average receiver whose sound and fury signify little or nothing. sadly, i think we will lose the big tuna after this year because of i haven't caught a ball in a clutch situation since donning the silver star's presence.

GIMME SOME CANDY!!!

one of the things that undermines the american spirit is the entitlement mentality. every halloween, i am amazed at how this way of thinking creeps more and more into the mainstream. isn’t it in the very fabric of trick or treating to dress up? costumes don’t have to be elaborate or store bought, but come on . . . make an effort. on halloween night more than half of the nocturnal candy seekers who darkened my door made no effort at all to dress up. and often, the parents sans costume as well stood mute, bag in hand, often even glaring. no “trick or treat” no “happy halloween” no “thank you.” one goateed young man wheeled his bike to the curb, hitched his sagging pants, flicked his cigaret into my yard and pulled a wal-mart bag from between his jacket and wife-beater. again, no words, just kinda held the bag out like i should know what comes next. i could not contain myself. “what? are you thirty-eight? you’ve got to be kidding me?” he sorta shrugged and replied, “I’m eighteen, and I’m gettin’ candy for my four month old daughter.” i was is such shock that my brain hiccupped and could not quite remember that four month olds do not even eat hard candy or chocolate. i think next year i’m going to bring back the “trick” spirit of the holiday and hand out brussel sprouts to those who don’t dress appropriately.

and a good time was had by all

things i like and am grateful for in no particular order

the comforting smells
of a clean, freshly painted room
falling leaves
& a newly cut lawn
cheap oily torpedo cigars
& dogs;

the gentle sway of the hammock
& the taste of ice cold beer;

the soft squealing sounds of joy
& the slapping of smooth, tiny hands on my face
waking me from a nap

never forget

gridiron giddiness

one of the things i love most in life is sport. pretty much in any variety. but chief among them is football. and usually, at this time of year, i’m pretty jazzed about the season on both the college and the pro level. but for some reason, this year i find that i am almost beside myself with giddy anticipation and excitement. i rarely watch preseason stuff, but this year i savored every game i could watch. when the tigers are rated early in the top ten, my hopes are usually quickly dashed as history has shown they typically can’t handle the hype. when the ‘boys do something embarrassing and bone-headed (like hire t. o. in the off season), i sometimes find it difficult to proudly wear the silver and blue star. when the institution i teach for continually exalts the young men who wear the maroon and gold on thursday nights while showing a blatant disregard for their academic welfare, i typically find it taxing to hope they do well. but this year feels different. the tigers have cultivated an environment of success (both on and off the field), the ‘boys still have a coaching genius at the helm who has yet to cave into the prima donna showboat, and the young men in the maroon and gold are still showing up to class in the third week of the semester. so - it is well with my football soul. as i sipped on an unbelievably cold adult beverage while watching the steelers/dolphins game last evening, i contemplated why the overwhelming good vibes pervade this new season. and i think it is because last season was such a blur due to that little storm you may have heard of named katrina. in all the hustle and bustle to assess, clean up, and help out, some of life’s smaller pleasures - like watching football and having a cold one - sorta faded into the background. but it’s a new season and not even a blip thus far in the tropical storm department. so - whoever you are out there and whatever team you pull for or against, i hope you have as good a time this season as i’ve had the past several weeks.

i seen it on the road in alabama

in 1903, one of my favorite writers, w. e. b. dubois wrote of america, “The problem of the twentieth century is the problem with the color line.” And yet, during the twentieth century our country saw incredible strides in race relations in all facets of life. to name just a few: the end of jim crow, 1954's brown vs board of education decision (made segregation in public schools illegal), 1964's civil rights act (made discrimination in employment illegal), 1965's voting rights act (insured voting rights to minority citizens), immigration and national services act of 1965 (drastically altered immigration policy), 1968's civil rights act (made illegal discrimination in sale and rental of housing), and 1972's gale vs collier (ended racial segregation in mississippi’s state prison, parchman). all of these historical strides in race relations, and more, happened in the twentieth century. some even before dubois’ death in 1962. history records the success stories of minorities throughout the american landscape during the twentieth century. twenty four black women, seven hispanic women, and three asian women have served in the united states congress. it is not difficult to create a list of the colin powell’s, the walter williams’, the oprah winfrey’s, the tiger woods’, the spike lee’s, the denzel washington’s, the bioncye’s, the jackie robinsons, the shelby steele’s, the osceola mccarty’s. it IS difficult to exhaust the list. and yet, six years into the twenty-first century, concerted efforts to make the color line an issue in the new millennium persist. the latest attempt is via cbs’ survivor:cook island reality television series which pits asians, blacks, hispanics, and whites against each other. even as a metaphor, this portrayal of “reality” reflects neil postman’s claim that we truly are trying to “amus(e) ourselves to death.” be that as it may, i would like to recount an experience i had this summer that runs counter to the notion that america can not break free from the history of racism. as i was driving on I59 in alabama between the rural communities of hixon and epes, i saw two cars jockeying for position. one vehicle was a moderately priced, newer suv; the other a twenty year old beater. both vehicles were being driven by white drivers - one in their late twenties, the other in their mid thirties; one a man; one a woman; one license plate was from alabama, one plate was from mississippi. who was how old and driving what i’ll leave for you to decide. on one vehicle the bumper sticker read, “Al Sharpton - 2008.” on the other vehicle the bumper sticker read, “Condi Rice - 2008.” now i’m not sure what dubois’ ultimate take on the state of race relations in 2006 america would be, but i’d have to think he would get a charge out of that vision i witnessed on what too many folks see as the road to perdition.

am i my brother's keeper?

whenever i teach world literature, i tend to structure the class not around genre or chronology; rather, i try to make the classics relevant to students that, for the most part, would rather be eating their chicken nuggets, downloading the latest itune, or waiting in breathless anticipation for clerks ii to hit local theaters. one strategy i employ is to ask a central question that will focus the class for the semester. recently, i have been obsessed with the question, “what does it mean to be human?” and how literature from the ancient world, the middle ages, and the renaissance work to provide answers for this question.

part of what it means to be human, i think, is that we constantly strive (when not occupied by fast food and pop culture) to achieve our maximum potential, to be the very best that we can be. but often, it seems, that we forget to measure our potential. what happens when we over-extend? to what lengths will we go and what costs will we endure to achieve our goals?

man’s desire to assert his potential on nature is truly a fascinating struggle. whether white water rafting, harnessing aerodynamics to fly like the birds, or bending the landscape to our ordered imaginations, man’s arrogance in the face of nature’s full force is striking, but often proves illustrative in providing insights that plumb the very depths man’s nature. one such story, or set or stories, involves man’s quest to scale the highest reaches of our world. and the recent account of lincoln hall serves as a modern day good samaritan parable. on may 27-28, 2006, after summiting everest, lincoln began having difficulties during his descent from the dead zone. his own team had to abandon him to save their own lives and left lincoln for dead. some nineteen hours later, dan mazure, a professional guide, and his climbing team of two clients who had paid upwards of $20,000 each were ascending everest and were within sight of the summit when they stumbled upon lincoln hall . . . alive. without hesitation, dan mazure and his two clients abandoned their own goals and worked to organize a rescue for lincoln, a total stranger. others, that very day, faced with the choice to aid lincoln or continue toward the summit weighed the consequences of their actions and opted not to help lincoln hall, but instead, pursue a fleeting moment of glory. although mazur and his clients did not summit the peak, mazur has no regrets. “‘Oh yeah, it was worth it,’ he said shortly after the rescue. ‘You can always go back to the summit but you only have one life to live. If we had left the man to die, that would have always been on my mind . . . How could you live with yourself?’” (MSNBC.com)

charles dubois once said, “the important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.” such moments happen daily. on the mountainside. on the sidewalk. in the classroom. in route. how we struggle to react to such moments bear witness to the internal paradoxes of our humanity.

mother's day ruminations

it’s funny how subtle the shift is between generations. this mother’s day weekend, i got to visit with both of my wife’s grandmothers - grandma and maw maw. grandma lives in a catholic nursing home. although she has had congestive heart failure for years and is down to 104 pounds, she was having a good day when we saw her. she knew who we were; on some visits she thinks my wife is her sister, doris. grandma and doris have not been on speaking terms for years. maw maw’s 85th birthday bash was on saturday. all the kin folk from all over were present to pay tribute to the matriarch of the maholovitch clan. the teens were now talking of college and career paths. the twenty and thirty-somethings were showing off their new offspring or patting their bellies in anticipation of proving their reproductive viability. the fifty and sixty year olds were talking up retirement plans and maw maw presided over the brood while mixing sprite, fruit juice, and southern comfort with a frozen strawberry jello mold. maw maw is no longer just maw maw. she is great maw maw. the parents have become the grandparents and the kids have become parents. nothing new - the cycle of life as most of us know it. for me, the day was poignant because all of my grandparents are now departed. my folks are not even on the on deck circle of aging - they're at bat. anyway - i began thinking about snookie, my grandmother on my mom’s side. she hasn’t been with us for several years now, but every now and then i catch glimpses of her. usually, i see her in some sort of agrarian manifestation - she was a farmer at heart. sharecropped as a kid. maintained three acres of a garden until the end - always took the harvest to those “little old ladies” in need on a fixed income. never mind that the little old ladies were in their fifties and snook was in her seventies. another place i sometimes find her is in language - specifically, in the country language of the south. this sort of language is becoming more scarce as time passes on. but when the crisp images and memories of snookie start to become blurred or i can’t quite remember how she talked, i read the following two poems and they remind me of who she was.

Snapping Beans
Lisa Parker

I snapped beans into the silver bowl
that sat on the splintering slats
of the porchswing between my grandma and me.
I was home for the weekend,
from school, from the North.
Grandma hummed “What A Friend We Have In Jesus”
as the sun rose, pushing its pink spikes
through the slant of cornstalks,
through the fly-eyed mesh of the screen.
We didn’t speak until the sun overcame
the feathered tips of the cornfield
and Grandma stopped humming. I could feel
the soft gray of her stare
against the side of my face
when she asked, How’s school a-goin’?
I wanted to tell her about my classes,
the revelations by book and lecture,
as real as any shout of faith
and potent as a swig of strychnine.
She reached the leather of her hand
over the bowl and cupped
my quivering chin; the slick smooth of her palm
held my face the way she held tomatoes
under the spigot, careful not to drop them,
and I wanted to tell her
about the nights I cried into the familiar
heartsick panels of the quilt she made me,
wishing myself home on the evening star.
I wanted to tell her
the evening star was a planet,
that my friends wore noserings and wrote poetry
about sex, about alcoholism, about Buddha.
I wanted to tell her how my stomach burned
acidic holes at the thought of speaking in class,
speaking in an accent, speaking out of turn,
how I was tearing, splitting myself apart
with the slow-simmering guilt of being happy
despite it all.
I said, School’s fine.
We snapped beans into the silver bowl between us
and when a hickory leaf, still summer green,
skidded onto the porchfront,
Grandma said,
It’s funny how things blow loose like that.

Directly
R. T. Smith

“I’ll get it directly,” she’d say, meaning
soon, meaning when I can, meaning, not
yet, be patient, the world don’t turn upon
your every need and whim. Or, “the dogs
will be back home directly, I reckon,”
“the preacher will be finished,” “your daddy
will see to you,” “supper will be laid out” --
all “directly,” which never meant the straight
line between two surveyor’s points or
an arrow’s flight, but rather, by the curve,
the indirect, the arc of life and breath,
and she was right, and when she passed
or was passing, I could not say which,
in a patchwork quilt, the makeshift room,
the sweet hymn notes sung neighborly
across the hall, she whispered, “Learn to tell
what needs doing quick as a bluesnake
and what will take the slow way, full
of care and mulling, be fair in every
dealing with beasts and people and all
else alive, and surely, my dear, He will
come for you in His good time, the way
He comes for all of us, directly.”

no, i can't hear you! i've got an agenda in my ear!

the janus project really came about from late hour chats between my brother-in-law and me over pretty much the gamut of what brother-in-laws might cover - careers. politics. movies. religion. cigars. theology. doctrine. beer. our kids. sports. our wives. the future. the past. whatever comes to mind. often thoughts linger, like the hazy cigar smoke that fills the dos flamingoes on a humidly still mississippi night. other times, ideas flit away as quickly as the third beer reflexes that can still miraculously catch a knocked over bottle before a single drop of nectar is spilled. often - our ideas make about as much sense as a paying $10.00 for a stoggie or $5.00 for an imported beer. we each have strong opinions. sometimes we disagree. often we agree but have a different way of arriving at the same end. more than i admit out loud, his ability to perform mental gymnastics far exceeds my abilities to follow along. without fail, i leave our conversations with food for thought - and not just a junk food, but steak and potatoes stuff. usually, i have to take a doggie-bag home with me.

several times by the light of day, my brother-in-law mentioned that some of these thoughts might be worth sharing with folks on a broader scale, and blogging provided a forum from which one could perch from one’s very own soap box or wander around the virtual wide, wide world and hear others’ mental ruminations. so - i jumped in. and i must admit, i’m hooked. i enjoy the idea of a free exchange of ideas and have been, for the most part, having a ball with the give and take in the blogosphere.

however - i am a bit disappointed in some encounters. most recently, i have been putting together a post on the illegal immigration issue, when i ran across another site that was engaging the same sort of stuff i was interested in discussing. however, in less than two post cycles, the tone of the dialogue became shrill and the exchange basically ground to a halt, at least as far as i was concerned. i felt as if there was much fertile ground to plow given the information in the comments, but in response to my comments, rarely were intellectual arguments proffered. so - instead of focusing on the issue of immigration in today’s blog, i thought it might be more instructive, at least for me, to think about the concept of statesmanship - an idea that is certainly rare in politics, but apparently is becoming an endangered species in civil discourse as well.

paraphrased from the old standbys - webster’s and the oed - statesmanship is exhibited by those who exercise political leadership wisely and without narrow partisanship and promotes the public good from the position of disinterest in oneself. lincoln said, “honest statesmanship is the wise employment of individual manners for the public good.” hubert humphrey said, “the essence of statesmanship is not a rigid adherence to the past, but a prudent and probing concern for the future.”

more often than not, i’m convinced that most folks who are not career politicians, regardless of their political ilk, genuinely are interested in the well being of others and our future. what saddens me is that the narrowness of the professional politicians and the shrillness of party politics has spilled over into our public discourse. we the people, CAN and SHOULD have dialogue and disagreements. but after we pull the lever at the ballot box, we should also be able to carry on our conversations via civilized discourse despite how the professionals conduct themselves in the public arena.

GAS AT $75 A BARREL! WHAT THE @#$*!

sadly, one of the major failings of the american education system is that we no longer teach economics. gas companies are not sticking it to the public through severance packages such as exxon’s lee raymond got - $400 million. i mean let’s enter the land of make-believe and the liberal mind and give the $400 million to joe six pack to buy gas. folks must realize that the US uses 360 million gallons a day in gas. at $3.00 plus a gallon, you do the math. why is gas so high? government regulations via our green friends, taxes, and lack of using our own natural resources in the US (ie supply and demand and our lack of self-sufficiency). we’ve got the technology to do it clean. and it’s there for the taking. let’s do it. and if we run out (which ain’t gonna happen), the market will provide a suitable alternative. the last time i looked, the downfall of the horse and buggy and railroad industries did not impede advancements in travel. oh yeah - and if you point the finger at W, be sure you check the stock portfolios of your favorite dems who also hold oil stocks. god bless wall street, capitalism, and the free market system. and while we're at it . . . if anyone needs to be giving folks back their money, it's the federal government that needs get their hands out of our pockets!

it's getting hot in here. ice cream anyone?

i’m no scientist. i’m a humanities guy. so, for me, science is situated in history, not a lab. i read about science, but usually in straightforward layman’s terms type articles - nothing much heavier than national geographic. so maybe i’m wrong here. but - i’m convinced that the presentation of scientific “facts” are often sorta like looking at the debate surrounding the kennedy assassination. on the one hand, you can find qualified experts who swear lee harvey oswald acted alone; while, on the other hand, you can find equally bonafide scholars who claim that the russians were behind it. or the cia. or lbj. whatever. the point is, we may never know the truth.

but - we’ve got al gore at it again with his disney meets the sierra club movie, an inconvenient truth. and that’s fine. there are a whole slue of other folks, some even real scientist, that refute gore’s slickly packaged lecture. basically, there are two things that bug me about an inconvenient truth.

one is the basic knowledge of history that tells us that there have been at least four major ice ages. which means, if my reasoning via history is correct, there have been at least three interglacial, or non-glacial, periods of time that are, by default, NOT ice ages. during these warmer times what happened? i don’t know, but i’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with those theories that insist upon modern man’s ability to cause our current ice age to melt into an impending interglacial period. the industrial and technological ages are but a blip on the screen of the earth’s history. it seems folly at best and arrogance at worst to believe that we, mere mortals, can cause something so incredibly awesome as the end of an ice age.

the other thing chaps my hide until it begs for salve is how folks pervert a seemingly honest concern for our home into political propaganda. take richard cohen of the washington post. in his article, gore movie puts heat on bush, cohen claims that “‘An Inconvenient Truth’ is a cinematic version of the lecture that Gore has given for years warning of the dangers of global warming. The case Gore makes is worthy of sleepless nights: Our Earth is in extremis. It's not just that polar bears are drowning because they cannot reach receding ice floes or that ‘The Snows of Kilimanjaro’ will exist someday only as a Hemingway short story. It's rather that Hurricane Katrina is not past, but prologue. Katrina produced several hundred thousand evacuees. The flooding of Calcutta would produce many millions. You cannot see this film and not think of George W. Bush, the man who beat Gore in 2000. Bush has been studiously anti-science, a man of applied ignorance who has undernourished his mind with the empty calories of comfy dogma. For instance, his insistence on abstinence as the preferred method of birth control would be laughable were it not so reckless. It is similar to Bush's initial approach to global warming. It may be that Gore will do more good for his country and the world with this movie than Bush ever did by winning in 2000.”

now really - scientific data or not - doesn’t abstinence work 100% of the time? and was there a bush to blame in the first four ice ages?

i’m willing to cut gore a break on his green theories. clearly, he believes in protecting the environment. so do i. so does ben and jerry. gore lectures and makes movies. i bemoan those folks who toss their cigarette butts out the window or flick them onto the ground. ben and jerry, the faces of big ice cream - they support the green movement by encouraging the release of countless chloro-fluorocarbons into our air.

rolling stones theology

i went down to the chelsea drugstore
to get your prescription filled
i was standing in line with mr. jimmy
and man, did he look pretty ill
we decided that we would have a soda
my favorite flavor, cherry red
i sung my song to mr. jimmy
yeah, and he said one word to me, and that was ‘dead’
you can’t always get what you want
you can’t always get what you want, no
you can’t always get what you want
but if you try sometime you just might find
you get what you need


in this month’s christianity today, chuck colson, already one of my heroes of social commentary, hits a grand slam in my book. in soothing ourselves to death: should we give people what they want or what they need? colson rails against endless repetition in church of meaningless ditties that have zero theological content and could just as easily have been sung in any nightclub. he opines that churches are becoming more “theater-like” and christian radio stations are dropping “serious programming in favor of all-music formats.” The reason? because, as one station manager pointed out, “(w)e don’t want to do anything that will upset our listeners.” we are “so busy . . . taking care of the kids, family activities, Bible study, cooking etc., that (we don’t) even read the newspaper or care what is happening in the world around (us). Church for (us) is getting (our) spirits lifted.”

so, why the shift from active participant to passive receiver? colson notes, correctly, that cognitive thinking, which is necessary when engaging such heady stuff as discipleship and discussions of how christianity works within moral and ethical constructs, is becoming increasingly difficult in america. “According to a recent study,” colson notes, “the average college graduate’s proficient literacy in English has declined from 40 percent in 1992 to 31 percent today. The study defines proficient literacy as the ability to read lengthy, complex texts and draw complicated inferences. Think about it: one out of three college graduates cannot read a book or absorb a serious sermon.” sadly, as a professor, i witness this daily in the classroom. and, sadly, as a life-long church goer, i have seen it in the pew. life being what it is and humans being who we are, most of us find it more comfortable to be passive receivers than active participants in life. these facts beg the question, “why?”

in the article’s title and body, colson nudges us toward another of my heros who was on to the answer decades ago. neil postman knew that television would eventually impair our capacity to think. indeed, the center of most american homes is no longer the kitchen table, but the home theater - bigger screens, louder sound systems, and more comfortable chairs. postman prophetically predicted how television’s influence would effect the home. however, the effects of television have spilled out of the home and into the church. unfortunately, our churches are no longer setting the standards for the home; instead, churches are following the trends of the american family. more and more sanctuaries echoe the informality of the american living room, complete with comfortably squishy theater seats instead of hardwood pews, and projection screens that remove the worshiper from the text of things like hymn books and, well, THE TEXT. as an academic whose primary tools are texts, this is alarming. as a worshiper who sees american churches becoming a blend of the home theater and the country club, this is frightening. many american churches, in my estimation, tend to focus on filling, not a spiritual void, but a social void via egocentric entertainment as opposed to the individual focusing on god.

the projection screen is doing for american churches what larry mcmurtry says the 24hour gas station did for travel. in the latter case, a traveler can literally drive across the continent and never actually not have a roof over his head. he can leave his house and enter his car in a garage, obtain fuel under covered pumps, and purchase pretty much any amenity he needs in the gas station itself, most of which offer more choices than walmart did in the early days of sam walton. in other words - travel has become comfortable and, therefore, easy. similarly, in the former case, the projection screen has made the american sanctuary a mirror of the home. in other words - worship has become comfortable and, therefore, easy. come in on sunday morning in casual dress, flop down in a cushy seat, pat our feet to the band, watch the screen. this is fun stuff. but having faith in the real world is not always fun. in fact, more often than not, it’s hard work. and if we are not used to the mental and physical heavy lifting required of church worship, what will happen when the real world becomes uncomfortable? maybe this is why i am drawn to “high church.” preparation is a pain. i have to iron my shirt on saturday night. i don’t really enjoy wearing a coat and tie on sunday mornings. i get hot. my neck itches. and if i’ve strained or pulled a muscle in a weekend activity, the wooden pews acutely remind me of my physical limitations. sometimes, while juggling a hymn book, a book of common prayer, and the bible i drop things, and i am reminded of my clumsiness. at other times the predictability of the liturgy makes it difficult to keep focused on the task at hand, reminding me of my mental weaknesses as well. and yet, each of these inconveniences work in concert to keep me focused on the act of worship itself. each discomfort is a reminder that worship is not about me - it’s about god.

maybe mr. jimmy read chris van allsburg’s children’s book, the wretched stone. maybe not. but in the end, church ought not to be about what we want - our favorite flavors. church ought to be about what we need.