A Prayer for Right-Things -or- Sore Knees and Burnt Necks

From "Little Gidding" by T.S. Eliot
"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one."

Look around us at this mess. A mess of time and history and humaness. A mess of wars and defeats and victories. A mess of only dead and dying. We work so hard over so much mess. We weep and scream and argue and struggle over it.

I've heard myself say in my own voice; "Don't let life happen to you, you happen to life." and I have no idea what that means. I guess I think that is so many parts truth and so many parts funny. This is the equation that I release so many breaths over?

We reason and we calculate and we colate. We can compile and measure and plot. But our business is still the same old broken business of living and dying. Somehow we've managed to use the calculations to speed up the living and the dying and our humaness; but when the smoke clears, when the silence pours over, we can't do anything but wait and watch and listen and hope.

There is so much weight to life, and we carry it; alone and in little groups. It's heavy and it makes our knees sore and our necks burn. We amass lives full of stories and scars. We fluctuate between good news and bad news. We generate noise and kick up dust. We try so hard to be something--to mean something; our best efforts lift off the ground for a moment in ecstasy just before things fall apart.

And inside, all we want is peace. Everything in us longs for a quiet space where we cannot hurt or be hurt. We want to rest sore knees and rub burnt necks. The chaotic mess of humanity banging out our existence as loudly as we can; angry with ourselves that we can't make it all mean anything more than broken pieces.

"O God, make us children of quietness, and heirs of peace." our insides all pray like St. Clement. But we do not know how. So we bang and stumble and cry out loudly and weep softly every moment as we rotate on our axis and believe we can measure our existence.

And all we are is tired and lost. There are no more games to play or battles to fight. Only aching for peace and rescue.

God, give us rest when we are weary. Give us peace when we are troubled. Sit us down comfortably in your presence and teach us how to breathe your divine God-breath again. Be comfort and strength to those who are neglected and weak. Be hope and courage to those that are sick. Be home and rest for those who wander. Be the stable for the unstable. Be the victory chant of the oppressed and the strong embrace for the lonely. Thank you that you are good. Let us all know your love and your peace even when we can't comprehend your complexity. Finally, bring us home, to that right place that we will know again for the first time. Amen.

The Triumph of the Question Mark -or- An Ugly Smattering of Grammar, Philosophy, Digestive Workings, and Theology by a Certified Punctuologist

I think of all punctuation marks, I like the semicolon the best. I wish I could say this is because of its usage, or the rythm that it creates within the syntax; however, when the truth is finally told, I like the semicolon because it makes me think of little "semi" intestines puttering out little "semi" farts pugent with "semi" noxious fumes and clouds of questionable, undigestable matter. This kind of reasoning, reminiscent of an adolescent reasoning (pre-puberty and post-comsumption of large amounts of sugar), is no way to go about ranking punctuation.

So, my more mature self (alive and well somewhere within me sometimes) has demanded that I produce I better form of reasoning and choice when it comes to punctuation; and maybe when it comes to other things as well, maybe.

I choose the question mark?

Let me rephrase that. I choose the question mark. It is no longer in limbo. It is decided. The question mark.

"Why?", you question-mark?

Because. (My all-time favorite response to questions.)

Well, my old style of thinking would have me say that I like question marks because of "The Riddler" on Batman, or I like questions because the best slapstick jokes start with questions and end with gut-busting laughs.

My more mature self selects a different line of reasoning.

I think that if we spoke honestly the things that were really deep within us, most of us would not spout profound theological creeds or mathematical proofs. I think if our deepest depths were articulated and turned into words and sentences, we would look not at statements, but at lines and lines of questions. If you are not one of the "most of us," and your persuasion pushes toward lines and lines of sentences with big emphatic periods, I would challenge you to see if your punctuation choice isn't more about feeling nice and tidy and certain. I ask you to at least admit your addiction to the concept of "certainty" whether you're certain its a problem or not.

I chose to study education because of question marks. My educational philosophy states that I wish to create a classroom of self-motivated question-askers. My missional bias for creating questioners is that I think that just beyond those question marks, just pass the blank, answerless void, there is God.

I think God is the "answer". Not in the Sunday school way. Not in the tidy, neat way. But in the big, all-encompassing, other-than way. In a way where using a linear, equation, question-equals-answer does not work. In a way where saying God is the "answer" becomes extremely and immediately impotent. "Answer" is too small. It is not dynamic enough.

Maybe a better idea is saying that God is the source of the question. The one who calls us to search and question. The one who is too big to be only the end of the equation.

So there's that; God being on the otherside of all questions. Big and loud and overwhelmingly being The Completion, the Wholeness that responds to the question.

Another reason for liking questions, and the subsequent "question mark":

Christ asked a lot of questions. Strike that. Christ asked an uncomfortable amount of questions. Christ asked questions as a response to--get this-- questions! A brief smattering of some Christ-questions just off the top of my head include; "who do you say that I am?", "Whose image is on this coin?", "Where is your husband?", "Do you love me?", "Where are your accussers?", "Why have you forsaken me?".

See? Jesus used questions as a means to articulate who he was and what he was about.

I like the question mark. There is so much more truth in questions then in statements. Statements end things. Statements are final. Questions begin things. Questions begin journeys and thinking and searching. Questions start things and create things. Questions inject with energy, motion, thoughtfulness.

Snapshots in Social Issues -or- "It's bigger than hip-hop"

Dead Prez's "Hip-Hop" from the album "Let's Get Free" says:
"The real world is bigger than all these fake ass records, where poor folks got the millions and my woman's disrespected... I'm sick of that fake thug, R&B, rap scenario all day on the radio same scenes in the video, monotonous material, ya'll don't hear me though... Would you rather have a Lexus, or justice? A dream or some substance? A Beamer, a necklace, or freedom?"

Scene: Stubbs in Austin... The Roots on stage. Mostly Caucasians in the audience. Do they hear the message? I know some do, but there are others who are just drunk, jumping, and throwing the "west side"... regardless of the fact that The Roots are from Philadelphia, and the music being played is from the opposite end of hip-hop from West Coast rap. What happens when message is compromised for money? Or even worse, what happens when message is mistaken for entertainment? On every front, the line between entertainment and message has become blurred.

Dave Chappelle on listening to a police scanner: "Calling all cars, calling all cars... be on the lookout for a black male between 5'4'' and 6'7''." Why does the color of your skin make you "a suspicious person"? For a true story about this, ask Harris Bechtol.

Waco, TX... drive down Austin Ave and look in awe at the architecture... two blocks in either direction the scene is different. Take a survey of the racial breakdown of these streets and try to argue that there is racial equality. Better yet, take a trip to the suburbs and then a trip to the housing projects. Is it only coincidence that these lines are still drawn in skin color?

Look at the schools, in the classes. Advanced Placement classes with all the white students... academic classes full of minorities. Martin Luther King Jr dreamed of white students and black students sitting side by side in classrooms... not just sharing hallways or making one or two exceptions.

Before I moved to Waco, I was under the impression that racism and racial tension was a thing of the past. Credit San Antonio and the way I was raised for this misunderstanding. Waco was a wake up call. What is my responsibility? As a white male of the middle class, the world is open to me. But I look around me and see closed doors and jail cells waiting for people not like me.

On top of this, what is my responsibility as a Christ-follower to see justice brought to the oppressed?

If you want to continue your own social education, come on over to the new house tonight and take part in the Chappelle's Block Party viewing. Good music, good truth, and interesting social study all in one flick... Oh yah, and Chappelle is funny (see, the dynamic between entertainment and message collides again).