The Thesis Journey Nears Its End...

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Last week I hopped in the car and headed out on a little journey.  My first stop was Staples Print and Copy Centre to pick up the five printed copies of my thesis.  They were stacked up together in a box and felt quite heavy.  From there I headed to my old campus (TWU) to pick up the five title pages signed by my thesis advisor and second reader.  Then it was over two bridges to North Vancouver to find the little binding company.  It ended up being in an industrial section right down by the water.  I almost missed it as it was a little hole-in-the-wall place with a tree right out front obstructing the view of it.  I went in with my theses in hand.  I was excited and a little nervous.  I realized that there was no going back on this now: whatever was on these pages was going to be bound and put in the library (and online) for people to read and critique.  Any errors were in those pages and were staying there.  Anyway, as I entered there was a strange and loud noise made by the door to notify someone of my entry.  I stood there in a little entry room waiting.  After a couple minutes of no answer I decided to push the door open and make the noise again... still no one.  I stood there for a few minutes taking in the room.  What an odd little room it was.  It was filled with books of course.  All sorts of books, most with an old look to them.  I don't think they were very old (although there was a small layer of dust across the tops of them) but they had that "early days of modern book binding" look.  There were books of all types and genres.  I particularly remember seeing a small stack of the Holy Bible and a copy of Bleak House by Dickens.  It was a neat (not clean and organized) little room: slightly musky and mysterious.

Finally my patience began to ebb and I peeked my head into the adjoining room.  If the first little room was mysterious, this next, bigger one was magical and arcane.  It was filled with mountains of books in various stages of the binding process.  There were strange machines interspersed amongst the books.  Each one seemingly with its own secret purpose.  I heard voices conversing off in the distance and called out... no response.  I heard a heavily accented man's voice coming from a previously unnoticed stairway leading up from the first smaller room.  I stuck my head around the corner and called out.  Turning in surprise he noticed me down there.  He was an older English gentleman who, after hearing my desire for binding, decided that he would seek out someone who could assist me.  He thence led me back into the larger room and called out with his thick accent.  Out of the winding piles of books, machines and unidentifiable materials of all sorts came a short grey-haired woman.  She too had a thick English accent.  Her's was a pleasant, welcoming voice resplendent with history and tradition.  We discussed my desire for binding my thesis, came to an estimate of price and required time, and I handed off my precious cargo into her capable hands.

My grad thesis has been one of the most trying and challenging experiences of my life.  I greatly appreciated being able to physically hand it off for binding.  I could have filled out an online form and uploaded the pdf file (the binders have an agreement with a printing company) but there was something special about making the journey, meeting the people who are going to bind it, seeing the strange place where it will be turned into a bound book, and feeling the unbound copies in my hand.  It felt very human, very embodied.

I look forward with great anticipation to picking up the bound copies soon.  It will definitely feel good.  My grad thesis process is rapidly drawing to its conclusion.  When I deliver the bound copies to TWU and physically hand them off, I will officially be done.  Oh boy.

Then I can continue my unofficial Augustinian studies...

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Measuring My Language Proficiency and Having Some Fun Too...

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This past Saturday morning I headed out to the Kwantlen Surrey campus to take a Language Proficiency Index (LPI) exam.  This exam is one of the formal hurdles that I have to jump through on my way to becoming a Probation Officer.  So, I sat down in a large conference room filled with other test-takers and had my English ability measured.  I found it quite easy - and almost fun actually.  There were grammar questions, reading comprehension questions, and one essay question at the end.  The exam was to take 2.5 hours, but I finished it in just over 1.  So, I hoped on the bus and headed off to work for the day.  During the long bus ride I thought about the essay question and how I would describe it to anyone who might ask how my exam went.  Just for fun I decided to compose a little description in my head as I sat on the bus.  I quickly wrote it down when I got to work.  Here it is:

My Essay

Before I began writing, I took a moment to survey what lay before my and I knew immediately that I was up to the challenge.  So, with determination and confidence I put pen to paper... I wrote. 

My prose was elegant - my argument concise.  It was playful, but not grandiose; lofty but not without purpose.  My logic was keen and my comments insightful.  My diction was imaginative, my delivery compelling.  The words were like so many colourful brushstrokes upon white canvas, bringing life and energy wherever they touched.  The nouns and verbs began the dance as they swayed in unison.  Soon the prepositions, adjectives, and conjunctions joined in as the energy increased.  Suddenly participles and adverbs rushed into the joyous romp of syntactical ecstasy springing up.  The sentences intuitively knew what was required of them: at times they were quick and pulsing, eliciting excitement and soaring intellectual vistas, other times they were slow and undulating in their reflection as they gentle massaged the tender contemplative regions of the soul.  Each sentence built upon the one before - following the rhythm but adding power with each succession until finally the climax arrived and brought conclusion.

My essay?  It was the embodiment of all that grammarians fantasize about during the slow hours of the day.

Yes, I would say it went well.
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Some Thoughts... on Life and Love

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I'm not sure where to begin.  I think it has been two months since my last blog post.  They have been two of the busiest months of my life.  I've thought about posting a blog from time to time.  But when it came down to it I decided to get to it when I had some time.  I had considered blogging about being tired and busy.  Well, I suppose I have time now.

The interesting thing about being tired - and I mean constantly tired - is that the world can often seem like a much different place.  I can seem like a different person; and not the person I would like to be.  At times my patience was lacking.  My interest or care in things would falter.  I often found myself crying at things that would not normally induce such a reaction.  I was emotional at times (not necessarily a bad thing, just different).  Some days there was a weight that would travel with me.  It seemed to be with me when I woke up in the dark of the early morning and would visit and revisit me throughout the day that followed.  But the funny thing was that these last two months have not been a bad time, not a negative experience at all.  Sure I think I aged about two years during that time.  But even with all those dark clouds of weariness and (seemingly) overwhelming struggle, I could see bright rays of glorious sunlight peeking through.  So many times as I struggled to keep going with my tasks I stopped and realized how overjoyed I was to be where I was.  I was about to finish and defend my Grad thesis on a topic which stirred both my mind and soul.  I had the privilege of being married to a incredible and loving woman.  Each morning when I awoke feeling tired and wishing for the day to be over so that I could get more sleep, I realized how great it was to kiss that sleeping woman beside me good bye each day.  Perhaps more than this, though, I knew that there is something intrinsically noble and worthwhile about struggling for things that matter.  I know that the only way to reach the top of a mountain is to hike up it one step at a time.  It's not a glamorous thing, the struggle, but you can't get anywhere without it.

Here I am now with my Grad thesis defended.  It was a strange feeling after I had finished and received my grade.  I think to some extent I was in shock.  On Friday, the culmination of my seven years of study at Trinity Western University finally arrived.  I can barely remember a time before I was a student there.  I met my beautiful wife there.  My life has changed in so many ways over the past seven years - especially over the past three of grad studies (and marriage).  I'm not the same person I was when I entered university.

I'm going to be a father in roughly ten weeks...  I don't think I can yet comprehend what the reality of that will look like.  I watch my dear wife grow each week and I wonder what this child will be like.  It's a terrifying and supremely exciting mystery.  I've been looking forward to starting a family with my wife since before she was my wife.  I've learned so much about myself and about life from traveling this road with her for the past three years.  How much more will I learn and grow as we raise a child (children, God willing) together.  The Christian perspective on marriage is that it is a sacrament, a means of God's grace to transform the lives of those involved.  I believe it.  Marriage is meant to be a lesson in divine love.  I once gave a good friend my thoughts on marriage and divine love as a wedding gift to him and his new bride:

I wish you both all the best that life has to offer: laughter, joy, simple pleasures, moments of grace.  I wish for you two a long life life together filled with love – a divine love, one which is focused on the other, which is self-giving, ever-growing, ever-expanding, procreative, and inclusive.  A love which drinks deep from Him who in His very being is love incarnate.  May your love be an example, may it be revelatory, may it ever be a source of healing and renewal, may it be your guide.

This is the type of marriage that I wish to be a part of.  I do feel that this is the type of marriage that I have been so blessed to share in.  That being said, our love has grown to include a new little one.  I'm so very excited to teach him or her about the world, about God's great creation, about divine love.  I'm also so very excited to learn with (and maybe from) this little one about these things.  Oh the adventure that awaits those who are willing to live.

The other day I was listening to this song:

Some of the lyrics suddenly stood out to me and I became overwhelmed with emotion (joy, gratitude).

I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way, babe
A family on my mind

Here I am thirty-three years old.  And these lyrics sum it up pretty well for me.  I've often enjoyed listening to this song.  It seems to elicit in me the realization of just how ephemeral this existence is, how short our days are in this life.  Sometimes it seems like yesterday that my dear wife and I were heading off on our honeymoon.  Three years have flown by and we are about to have a family.  I can only imagine that I'll barely blink before our firstborn is off to school and learning and growing into an adult.  Will we be so blessed as to see our children have children one day?  Yes, the days are long, but the years are indeed short.

A couple friends of ours were married just yesterday.  I gave them each the advice to take a moment every now and again on their wedding day to stop, look around, and enjoy the day.  I told them that your wedding day will be busy, fun, and it will fly by in the blink of an eye.  It occurred to me this morning that life is quite similar.  I shall have to remember to take a moment every now and again to marvel at the beauty and splendor of life.  I shall have to pause to soak in all the love that I am surrounded with.  I shall have to stop and give thanks.

It takes bravery to embrace life.  To live unafraid, to live with love.  I pray that I may be so bold as to love and be loved in return.  I pray that I may teach and learn from and grow with those around me.  I pray for my new role as a father.  I pray for my continued role as a husband.  I pray for my actions and words as I go about life being a son, a brother, a friend, a mentor, a student.  I pray... that I may live as I ought, that I may live in love.

Gloria Deo

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Isabel Haiku

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Daddy I'm hungry
Use the washroom first

Okay

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Thoughts on Father's Day...

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The words I wish to hear... I'll never get to hear.

Father's day comes stealthily each year.  I forget about it and suddenly the day arrives with little to no fanfare; and exits in the same understated manner.

This year I came to a strange realization: I've now lived more of my life without my father than I had lived with him.  He passed away many years ago.  He never knew me as a man.

I would love for nothing more than to hear him tell me that he's proud of me, of the man that I've become.  I know that he would be proud of me.

There are words that I'll never get to say to him.  I'll never get to tell him that I love him.

I trust that the time will come, after I pass through that great mortal curtain, when we will meet again with joy and tears and great unspoken words of love.

Still, I would love to have him here to meet as men.

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Thoughts on Environmental Stewardship...

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I was looking at some National Geographic Photos of the Canadian Oil Sands...

... I can't even begin to fathom the extent of the destruction.

... Is this what sin looks like?

[Photograph by Peter Essick]




... If so, then what does salvation look like?

Perhaps Christians need to rethink what bringing the Good News into the world looks like...






"...creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.  For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now."

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Learning to Jump off the High Diving Board...

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I've discovered that I have a bit of a perfectionist streak.  Well, maybe half perfectionism, half fear of failure.  Whatever the correct label might be, the result tends to be the same: it is damn hard for me to begin and finish things.  When I was on my own I could just avoid or dismiss things.  But when you are beholden to another and called to the new-found responsibilities demanded by love... there is only one option: do what is required of you... get it done.  The nagging questions and doubts become an ill-afforded luxury.  This realization seems to change very little except the end result.  I still have these worries, these doubts, the handicap is still very real.  The difference is only that I can no longer lean on it as an excuse.  The responsibilities demanded by love - i.e. love as a verb - override the fears. 

It recently occurred to me that fulfilling these responsibilities is often like jumping off the high diving board.  When I'm up there it is terrifying and potentially able to make me freeze up and be trapped in inaction.  I can do it though - don't look down; don't think about the landing; remind myself that I'm capable and it will indeed be okay.  Some days it seems like every action, every moment is like this.  I'm not sure that jumping gets any easier; but I do know that I am learning to jump off with increasing frequency.  That, at least, is reassuring.

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New Media Induced Cognitive Blindspots and the Necessity of Serendipitous Embodied Existence...

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Yes, that is quite the title.  But this is something that I've only just begun to vocalize (if I can use such a term in reference to the disembodied form of communication we call blogging) and proper expression requires experimentation.  Anyway... here are some thoughts (I'd like to apologize ahead of time as I'm truly shooting from the hip on this one):

New Media and Cognitive Blindspots

New media is something of great interest to me.  No, I'm not much of a participant in the phenomena; but, nonetheless, it does interest - and at times, frighten - me.

One of the dangers of social media is that it is a directly controlled experience.  There are in fact only two (correct me if I'm wrong) main factors which guide the experience: the individual and the algorithm.

Communication in it's more disembodied, electronically mediated forms (email, texting, blogging, etc.) is essentially an exchange of information (unlike the more traditional embodied form of sharing time and space, in which exchange of information is only a small part of the interaction).  This information is closely controlled and directed by these two dictating factors.  One the one end, the individual entering into the medium will direct his/her attention to those things in which he/she is most interested.  On the other end we find the arcane realm of algorithms.  You cannot see them but they are the virtual overlords of information dispersal in cyberspace.  It is this silent collusion between these two covert collaborators which concerns me (sorry, I couldn't help myself with the alliteration).

Ok, that's some heavy language there for simply using social media technology.  Or is collusion actually a very apt term?

What interests me most is the hidden way in which these two interact and produce a narrowing of information.  Think about it: what you're interested drives what you look at (i.e. the information you access); the information you access influences what you are interested in; what you're interested in drives... well you get the point.  And throughout this whole process, unseen, are the algorithms in the software that filter and guide your access to the information (do you understand how a simple Google search works?  I don't; but I do know that it is not neutral, it is not unbiased).  This can have the unintentional effect of polarizing and segregating various interests and viewpoints.  As cellular phones move further and further into the realm of adaptive software (which is intended to get to know you and your patterns/desires/interests and thus be able to provide fitting suggestions on any number of topics/activities), we increasingly have a situation where technology (algorithms) provide guidance and direction to "appropriate information".

What's so wrong with that scenario you ask... Well, I would suggest that the greatest potential problem is that it could create giant cognitive blindspots.  Areas of knowledge and thought (viewpoints) that become inaccessible to the individual - precisely because he/she operates predominately as an individual.

The Necessity of Serendipitous Embodied Existence

I've come up with this term to describe what I feel is essentially just the reality of lived life, which is the antidote to cognitive blindspots.  Being a part of a physical community can indeed be a cure for ignorance.  One of the main differences between reality and virtual reality (i.e. the difference between the world and the worldwide web) is the differing laws which govern them.  While paths online are directed by a combination of individual interest and algorithmic interpretation, paths in the real world are guided by an incomprehensible multitude of variables which can neither be predicted nor ever fully explained (even in hindsight).  This "multitude of variables," and the winding paths which they direct one along are here being called serendipity (I'm sure another entirely different multitude - predominantly those of the fundamentalist Christian ilk - are decrying my use of serendipity here; but that's a whole other matter for another time).  One familiar simile for this concept is "life."

What life as an embodied person (not an individual, which I would argue is a markedly different concept than that of a person: individualism versus personhood) grants one is unknown and unexpected experiences.  And it is these unexpected experiences and interactions, which are more than mere information exchanges, that have the ability to broaden our perspective and shine light on our blindspots.

I find this happening daily in my life.  It could take the form of seeing a sight which causes me to pause and consider something that I'd not before considered.  It could take the form of a conversation with a stranger which asks me to re-examine my preconceptions or rethink my views.

Life is not guided by my interests or shaped by software algorithms (if you think that I'm going a little overboard on the whole algorithm thing, look into the role played by them in the use of smartphones, search engines, social media sites, commercial websites such as amazon and the like, etc.).  I may have a particular plan for life, but by it's very nature, by the nature of the "laws" which govern it, life does not often follow this plan of mine.  This, my friends, is the real enlightening power of a serendipitous embodied existence - the breadth of educating exposure.

Any thoughts...?


(postscript: yes, old media can also produce such blindspots; but, I would argue, it is not anywhere near the level possible in the new media landscape)

(post-postscript: no, I don't think we need a technological jihad against all use of new media.  I think what we need is more awareness about the true nature of this cyberspace realm in which we increasingly travel.)

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Middle Eastern Politics and the Bible

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Yesterday the Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu addressed the US congress.  His approx. half-hour speech amounted to a slap in the face of the people of Palestine.  And each time Netanyahu verbally slapped the Palestinian people, congress rose up and applauded (Congress to Palestine: Drop Dead).  It was rather sad to watch - and hard to stomach.

What struck me as particularly interesting was one of the ways that Netanyahu sought to justify the Israeli suppression of the Palestinian people and the continued theft of their land: God gave it to Abraham.

I wonder, in what other political situation would such a claim carry any weight?  The Prime Minister of Israel addresses a room predominantly filled with Protestant Christians and says, "Hey, it's there in your Bible... the land belongs to Israel."

In what twisted reality do we associate the modern State of Israel with the ancient people bearing the same name?  By what right can we in the West support the expulsion of one people from their ancient ancestral homeland because another people says that the land is theirs by divine right?

Christians in the West cannot support the oppression and displacement of a people in the name of God.  This is absurd politics and faulty Biblical interpretation.

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Unimaginable (a re-blog)...

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kristinfry:

via thedailywhat:

Before And After of the Day: Missourian Aaron Fuhrman — a self-taught landscape photographer — has been traveling around Joplin, photographing heartrending panoramic shots of the devastation left in the aftermath of Sunday’s tornado. Fuhrman lined up one of these panoramic photos with a Google Street View screencap of the same intersection to illustrate the comprehension-challenging extent of damage caused by the twister.

View his photos here.

NY Times aerial comparison photo

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Are We Outsourcing Our Minds? Continued...

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Not long after my last post (and subsequently joining Twitter) I came across a very interesting NY Times article (and a thoughtful response to it) on the effects of Twitter and other social media.

Basically, we are outsourcing our brains to the cloud. The upside is that this frees a lot of gray matter for important pursuits like FarmVille and “Real Housewives.” But my inner worrywart wonders whether the new technologies overtaking us may be eroding characteristics that are essentially human: our ability to reflect, our pursuit of meaning, genuine empathy, a sense of community connected by something deeper than snark or political affinity.

Apparently there has been an increasing amount of research done on the effects of social media technology on our abilities as functioning human beings (no, not all of them are negative).

In his article, Bill Keller writes: "Twitter is not just an ambient presence. It demands attention and response. It is the enemy of contemplation."

Yes, we need more contemplation - indeed a very human enterprise.

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Thoughts on Memory: Are we outsourcing our minds?

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I don't remember when it was that I came across the concept of externalized memory but I find it a fascinating thought.

Ever since the advent of written texts, so the theory goes, we humans have been moving along a steady process of externalizing our memory: i.e. we use external things to store information rather than remember it ourselves.  Why remember the history of your people and retell it from rote memory when you can inscribe it and read it later on when you wish to 'remember' it.

In the last few hundred years we have increasingly devised memory storing devices to replace the use of our memory: photographic cameras, various audio and video recorders, computers, and finally... the cell phone.

It seems to me that we are, as a society, desirous of the obsolescence of our our minds.  That is to say, we jump at any device that will lighten the intellectual burdens of life to the extent that we run the risk of loosing much of our intellectual capabilities.  To be fair, the sheer amount of things we have to remember in our day-to-day modern lives is astounding.  But when simple mathematics becomes a burden it seems to me that we've gone too far.  Yes, calculators are very handy devices, but our minds have amazing capabilities that we so often neglect (or don't even know we are capable of anymore).  It seems to me that some people have gotten the silly idea that smart phones are better equipped to live our lives for us than we are.  Are those impressive little electronic tools turning us into tools?

Algorithms can never replace humanity's ability to problem-solve.  At what point are we externalizing ourselves?  What do we do when the technology fails to solve problems for us... panic?  I worry that at some point, if we continue along this path, that may very well be the only response left us.

Using our intellectual capabilities ought not be a burden, but rather a pleasure.  For it is one of the greatest gifts our Creator has given us with which to interact with this marvelous world we inhabit.  Let us not neglect so great a gift.

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Thoughts on Human Relations: stay in touch...

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I was listening one of my usual podcasts the other day and I heard an interesting (though not uncommon) phrase: "You can keep in touch with us through facebook and twitter."

I thought this an interesting expression, "keep in touch."  Even a similar expression, "stay in contact," strikes me as slightly odd.  How can we be said to "stay in contact" or "keep in touch" when the entire physicality of the interaction has been removed.  There's no "touch" involved with these electronically mediated forms of communication: texting, tweeting, fbooking, emailing, even phoning.

Don't worry, this isn't going to be post where I bash these various forms of communication.  I'll save that critique for another post.

What strikes me the most is this idea of presence... physical presence.  It is an amazing thing to be present with someone.  My dear wife and I often go for walks after dinner.  We walk and hold hands and enjoy the evening.  Yes, we often talk and reflect on our day; but much of the value is found in sharing time and space with each other.

What is it that we find comforting about the presence of a loved one?  What is it about a hug that moves us?  If we are hurting, words can only do so much to help - but a hug, or the mere presence of a loved one... it can do so much more.

We have been created as beings comprising both body and soul.  It seems an amazing thing that these two aspects (parts?) of us are so intrinsically connected.  What is a kiss?  Is it merely the pressing together of two sets of lips?  No, it can be so much more.  How ignorant are we as a culture in trying to separate the physical and the spiritual in the sexual act?  It is an utter denial of our basic humanity.  How silly is it to think that electronically mediated communication can ever compare to being present with another human being?

Texting, emailing, fbooking (yes, I'm using it as a verb), etc... these are often better than no contact at all when our friends or family are a great distance away.  But whenever possible, I want to share time and space with those I care about.  I want to see their face, hear their laugh, shake their hand.  That is how human beings have being designed to relate.  There's something incredible about that.

When the Divine decided to give his ultimate self-revelation to his creation, he didn't do it through spirit alone... he did it through human flesh.  Jesus walked with his disciples; he talked with them; he ate with them.  In God's fullest revelation to humanity, Jesus, we have our greatest example.

Keep in touch.

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Thoughts on Canadian Politics: Sunshine and Rain

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I never thought that 167 would be such a hard number.  There certainly has been a lot of rain falling since the Harper regime has been placed in such firm control of our nation - a lot of dark clouds.

But, there are other numbers: numbers of hope, numbers of change.  How about the number 4?  The fall of the Bloc Quebecois can only be a good thing for Canada.  How about the number 1? Elizabeth May and her Green Party finally have the recognition they've been looking for: a seat in the house.  This makes me happy.  Yes, there has indeed been some sun shining through those clouds.

I think the big question mark for Canada surrounds the number 102.  What will the NDP do with their new-found place as the official opposition?  What will the weather look like in the future?  It is indeed an uncertain time in the Canadian political landscape... there is no certain forecast.  We'll have to wait and see.

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Thoughts on Religion: Easter and Eggs

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I recently read a blog post in which the author had commented on how she feels that Easter egg hunts take away from "what Easter is about".  This thought really got me musing.

There was a time when I would have, in the name of the purity of the Christian faith, argued for the rejection of all such "non-biblical" culturally linked festive activities.  I would have agreed that such activities do detract from the essence of the Christian holiday and are undesirable encroachments of the secular world: a "watering-down" of what really matters.  That was then and this is now.  My views couldn't have changed more.

It is an undeniable reality that spirituality must be incarnated.  We tend to call this incarnation, religion.  Religion, which at one point in my past I understood to be a negative term, is the expression and living out of spirituality by human beings.  Once one accepts that religion is the natural expression of spirituality, i.e. the rituals and activities of communities who have come together to enact and embody their spiritual beliefs, acceptance of Easter egg hunts are not far off.

What I mean is this: culture is not something that happens outside of religious activities.  It is not merely the inane and vapid music that pounds at us through television, radio, or internet.  Nor is it merely something that happens on particular days of the calendar in which people from Eastern Europe or Asia (or wherever else) dress up in strange old-fashioned clothes and dance and eat different food.  Culture is the mode of human beings who live in any sort of proximity with each other.  Culture is how values, history, and identity are communally expressed and transmitted through successive generations.  Culture is unavoidable.  Sure, one can argue that a particular culture is unwell or has destructive values and expressions; but culture in and of itself is not a bad thing (any more than speech itself is a bad thing).

Religion and cultural expression are inseparable.  This is not a bad thing - it's human thing (and a divinely given ability I would argue).  When this is understood, the question regarding Easter egg hunts changes slightly.  It is still a valid question, but the way in which we understand and approach it as a cultural activity ought then to guide us in addressing it.  Does it, or any other activity, detract from the purpose and message of the religious holiday (and the truth/significance revealed in it)?  Is it a proper cultural expression of the meaning of the holiday?  Does this activity properly reflect - and convey to the next generation - the value, history, and identity which Christians find in Easter?

It seems to me that the person (or community) asking this question must first explore what the significance of Easter is.  I might begin addressing this question by asking those little ones who are so eagerly involved in the hunt why they think we are doing this activity.  How they think this does, or does not, relate to Easter.  At least the discussion itself will likely be fruitful in achieving the desired transmission of values and identity.

My perspective on such "human traditions" is that they usually began with proper intention and were at one point effective as a cultural/religious expression.  The question, then, is whether or not they remain so.  We humans will always use such signs to express and transmit ideas and values - especially to children.  I think that as a pedagogical exercise, which is essentially what most such cultural/religious activities are when children are involved, they are great.  A child may not understand the theological significance and importance of religious holidays the way an adult is able to, but that does not mean that it can not be conveyed in other (more fun and boisterous) ways.

Insofar as these human traditions are able to express the divinely guided Tradition of the Church and her teachings, they are indeed good and true.

I say go hunt those tasty chocolate eggs with the kids and discuss with them why we do these silly fun things at Easter.

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Palm Sunday 2011

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Today begins Holy Week: a central time in the Christian calendar.  Today we celebrate the triumphal entry of Jesus of Nazareth into Jerusalem.  The culmination of his ministry was to follow shortly.  In less than a week he will be punished as a criminal, crucified, and buried.  But all that is yet to come.  Today we join in with the crowds and welcome our long expected messiah:

Hosanna to the Son of David;
BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD;
Hosanna in the highest!

I love this time.  A time when the impossible becomes possible; a time when our hopes peak and are violently crushed, and finally our hopes come to fruition in the beautiful promise of glorious life eternal.

This week we travel the road of hope, suffering, death, and of life reborn.  We walk the journey of life in this one week.

Blessings on your journey my friends.
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Thoughts on Mary: Our model for the Christian life...

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Daily I hear His voice calling out to me.  It is a call for me to love my neighbour; it is an admonition to spend myself on behalf of the poor; it is an invitation to fight injustice and defend the defenceless.

Today I was reading the Epistle of Barnabas and the author, in his discussion of fasting, quoted from Isaiah 58.  It seems as though this passage is one of those that I am given to carry with me - it keeps returning unbidden, but always present.

Is this not the fast which I choose, to loosen the bonds of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free and break every yoke?  

Is it not to divide your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into the house; when you see the naked, to cover him; and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?

Then your light will break out like the dawn, and your recovery will speedily spring forth; and your righteousness will go before you; the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.


And if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom will become like midday.

There are passages in Scripture which require little or no exegesis to understand - this is one of those passages.  It speaks for itself.

I hear the voice of the Holy Spirit calling out to me: "enact God's love in the world"... "love thy neighbour".  Why do I not respond?  No, the more appropriate question is, Why am I slow to respond?

As we seek to follow the prompting, the call, of the Holy Spirit... as we seek to build lives directed towards love, we must continually remember the example of Mary.  Tomorrow (March 25th) is the day on which the Christian Church remembers the Annunciation to the virgin Mary.  The angel Gabriel was sent by God to the virgin Mary with a message.  The message was of the very salvation and redemption of humanity and the whole of creation; the message was of the coming of Jesus the Christ, the promised Messiah.  She was young; she was frightened; she was even a little confused (understandably so).  But that response of faith that she gave to the angel over two millenia ago became the model of the Christian faith.  The ideal response to God which we are all to emulate.

And Mary said, "Behold, the maidservant of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word."

When we hear the voice calling to us, when we discern the prompting of God's Holy Spirit in our lives, we the admonition to love reaches our hearts, we are to follow the example of Mary.  We are to respond with "Yes".  I pray that I would learn to do just that: say Yes to God.

Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum

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Thoughts on Contemplation...

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Life can be a busy place, an hectic endeavour.  There is definitely a need for quite time, for peaceful space, for room to breath and to be.

Continual silence, and removal from the noise of the things of this world and forgetfulness of them, lifts up the heart and asks us to think of the things of heaven and sets our hearts upon them. (St. Bernard of Clairvaux)

I would indeed like my heart to be lifted up.  Why do we run towards the noise?  Where is the silence in which we might hear the voice that calls us heavenward, the voice that brings us peace?

I desire that voice; I desire that peace.

Pax tibi

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Into the Desert...

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In the Gospel of St. Matthew we read,

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  And after He had fasted forty days and forty nights, He then became hungry.

Lent is indeed the time of the desert.  Like Jesus when he began his earthly ministry we are led by the Holy Spirit into a time of fasting and prayer; like the people of ancient Israel we are led into the great desert to wander for forty long years following the lead of God.

We travel those dry places.  We feel empty, tired, and sometimes defeated.  Through it all we have only our faith to sustain us.  We seek out out our God, who is the divine oasis, who is the eternal fount of life from which we are to drink.  Indeed we become thirsty for that living water.

It's not easy being in the desert.  It's not easy walking that dusty, hot path.  But we know that it is good for our soul to do so.  We know that our guide will not lead us astray if only we are faithful to follow.

Hunger, thirst, fear, fatigue... apathy?  It is these with which we must do battle.  Truly it becomes a battle with the self.  Not an easy battle.  But one that we must fight nonetheless.

Deus tecum.

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Thoughts while doing the dishes...

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All those things that used to seem so very important, quite simply, are not important at all.  So many of those things to which I wouldn't give a second thought, are some of the most important things in life.

I once thought I knew everything; I have since learned how vast my ignorance truly is.  There is indeed a strength, a rich value in this knowledge.  It brings humility.

The world used to be the background in front of which my life took place.  Now it is the very life into which I am drawn.  Life is so much more rich and beautiful than I ever could have imagined.  It is vast and mysterious; it is bright and glorious.  Why could I not see it before?

Gloria Deo!

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Thoughts on Mortality: Ashes and Dust...

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With these words, we are invited into the season of Lent:

We begin our journey to Easter with the sign of ashes,
an ancient sign,
speaking of the frailty and uncertainty of human life,
and marking the penitence of the community as a whole.

I invite you therefore, in the name of the Lord,
to observe a holy Lent,
by self-examination, penitence, prayer,
fasting, and almsgiving,
and by reading and meditating on the word of God.
Let us kneel before our Creator and Redeemer.

On Wednesday Christians around the world began the Lenten season with the imposition of ashes.  It was my third or fourth Ash Wednesday service - every year I am moved by the power and meaning behind the service.  We came together as a community to confess our sins, to begin our penitent journey to Easter, to acknowledge our mortality.

One by one, the sign of the cross was marked on our foreheads; with each person the priest told them:

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

I heard these words spoken to each person.  I saw each person marked with ashes.  I saw their human frailty exposed and knew that they would each die one day - what day, none of us can say.  I saw my dear wife marked with ashes and knew that she would leave me one day.  One day in the future I would loose her, or she would loose me.  Our children would weep at the loss of their parents.  I would weep at the loss of my love, my wife.  I was almost overcome with the thought of loosing my dear wife. 

It was almost a dark, dark, service.  But it is not.  It is a service were the reality of human existence is spoken clearly and truly - there can be no pretending.  We are to look death in the face.  That is a difficult thing to do.  We are asked, as a community, to walk in the valley of the shadow of death.  But, fortunately, we do not walk alone.  We travel that path with the rest of the Church, throughout all ages.  We walk with the support and prayers of all the heavenly saints and martyrs.  We walk in the footsteps of the crucified Lord, who traveled the path so long ago.  And this is exactly why we can walk it without despair: our shepherd guides us; he knows the way; he will lead us beside still waters and, therefore, we need not fear evil.  Therefore, we have hope because at the end of the road is the newness of the risen life.

As I tasted the offered Eucharist, as I knelt down before the sacrificial feast, I was that publican; it was I who, not able to life my eyes to heaven, cried, "have mercy on me a sinner".  I tasted that mercy.  I was given hope.

Lent is about setting things in order.  It is about preparing to greet the risen Lord on that great Easter celebration.  We wish to greet him with willing and ready hearts.  Thus, we spend forty days re-learning the deeper truths of life.  Christians do not fast because food is bad; we fast because food is good.  It is good and ought not be abused, but appreciated accordingly.  We pray because it is only in the seeking of the Lord that we will find him.  We read the holy Scriptures because it is through the Holy Spirit working through them that our hearts and minds are transformed.  We are penitent because we recognize our need for grace and mercy.  We face the reality of death because it is only through the recognition of our mortality that we can rightly judge what is important in life.  We ask ourselves for those forty days, "In light of our limited time here on earth, and our future glory in heaven... what is it that is important; what is it that is worth living for?"

Yes, we weep because the of the reality of our human condition - but how much more do we love because of that same condition and what it demands of us.

This Lent, let us consider what is truly important...

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Lent Approaches...

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I must say that I'm very excited about Lent.  Partly this is due to the fact that Lent is a preparation for the celebration of the Resurrection at Easter, but it is also partly due to the practices of Lent themselves.  Lent is indeed a time of preparation and as such we clean house and get things back on track, so to speak.  I constantly find myself yearning for a more ordered life; I desire discipline.  These are exactly what I find in my Lenten preparations.  I pray more - I eat less.  I focus my thoughts inward and examine myself.  I ask the questions that have been put off for far too long.  I take a serious look at what is wrong that in forty days I might celebrate all that is right.  I face death that I might welcome Life.

Just as I require my weekly cup of grace as I kneel and receive the Eucharist that I might live life to the best, so to do I require my yearly Lenten season as I kneel in prayer and discipline my body and mind that I might live rightly as a part of the Church, the Easter people... people of the Resurrection.

The time of preparation is almost upon us.

Kyrie, eleison

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Reconnecting with an old love...

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I was at the local recreation centre this evening.  It was the usual thing: lift some weights, hit the steam room / pool.  I've been trying to get more comfortable in the water and increase my water-treading time (previously at 2 minutes). 

I remember my mother telling me that back when I was but a wee lad taking swimming lessons people used to comment on how I looked like I was asleep when I was practicing the backfloat.  It's true, I was never a strong swimmer, but oh could I float.

Tonight I gave up on swimming and treading water.  Those activities are for suckers.  I reclined, stretched my hands back behind my head, and let the water carry me.  Yeah, I still got it.

There's nothing quite so peaceful as the gently undulating water as you're free floating on it.  I actually closed my eyes for a bit.  The only way it could have gotten better would be if the ceiling had parted so that I could watch the night sky (probably asking a little too much).  Truly a relaxing time.

Yes, it's good to be alive.

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Commercials that offend me...

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I'm sure there are people out in the blogosphere thinking, 'really, a blog post about something that bugs this guy - yeah, I'm going to read that right away'.  Well yes, it is a post about a commercial that offends me.

I saw this commercial and was tempted to throw something at the television screen.  Well maybe not.  But my very humanity was offended by the idea that our lives are little more than a series of selfish consumer choices.  Really?  Is having a child equal with that trip to Paris?  How about choosing that 'significant other'?  No, I think I'll have the dream home... no wait, the education... no wait... I just can't decide what I want.  Idiots.

Is this what we aspire to?

[That's right folks, the blog post title was in the plural.  I might see another that offends me and post about it.  But I can't imagine ever seeing a commercial that is as offensive to the ineffably majestic potential of human life as this one.]

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One of my favourite stories: The Martyrdom of Polycarp

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Excerpt from the Martyrdom of Polycarp (155CE)

And then, as he was brought forward, there was a great uproar when they heard that Polycarp had been arrested.  Therefore, when he was brought before him, the proconsul asked if he were Polycarp.  And when he confessed that he was, the proconsul tried to persuade him to recant, saying, "Have respect for you age," and other such things as they are accustomed to say: "Swear by the genius of Caesar; repent; say, 'Away with the athiests!'"  So Polycarp solemnly looked at the whole crowd of lawless heathen who were in the stadium, motioned toward them with his hand, and then (groaning and looking up to heaven) said, "Away with the atheists!"  But when the magistrate persisted and said, "Swear the oath, and I will release you; revile Christ," Polycarp replied, "For eighty-six years I have been his servant, and he has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King who saved me?"


But as he continued to insist, saying, "Swear by the genius of the Caesar," he answered: "If you vainly suppose that I will swear by the genius of Caesar, as you request, and pretend not to know who I am, listen carefully: I am a Christian...  (Martyrdom Polycarp 9.1b-10.1a)

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The Arab World: A Time of Hope?

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It is hard not to get excited.  First there was Tunisia.  Then the dramatic events in Egypt.  Now we hear of protests and public demonstrations in Yemen, Bahrain, Iran, and even Libya.  Fueled by discontent at the economic and social injustices of their various nations, first the youth, and then people of all walks of life, have risen up to let their voices be heard.  From North Africa to the Persian Gulf something seems to be in the air: freedom?

The leaders of these various nations continue to fall back on questions of safety and security as justification for not heeding the people's cry.  Yes, safety and security are real issues, real necessities for a civil society.  But can you have a civil society without a certain amount of freedom (social, political, and economic)?

I watch to new and follow along as I have time.  Indeed it is difficult not to get excited.  I continue to hope and pray for the peoples of these nations.  Is a change sweeping the Arabic world?  Will I one day be telling my children about this time?  Unlike some in the West, I don't wish for those in North Africa and the Middle East to turn into a mirror image of the West.  But I do wish for them many of the freedoms that we in the West enjoy.  I wish for their voices to be heard.

How can I not be hopeful when I see people of all ages, people of different religions and walks of life joining together in their common humanity crying out for justice.  Peaceful resistance in the face of injustice gives me hope.

Pax tibi

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Thoughts on Christian Memorial Services: Sorrow, Joy, and Hope

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I took some time to listen to the audio of a memorial service for the Pastor of a local Church, which some of our friends are a part of.  I didn't know Pastor Bill; I don't believe that I've ever met him.  But he was an important person in the lives of some of our friends so I thought I ought at least to listen to his memorial service.  It can be an amazing thing to listen to the thoughts and memories when people speak of the life of a Christian loved one who has passed on.

I remember when my Granny passed on.  I cried and cried that night in my bed.  I knew, even as I cried, that my tears were for myself.  They were because of all the missed time, of all the things I never learned from her that she surely had to teach me.  I cried for my mother and my aunt who had lost a wonderful, loving, and giving mother.  I did not cry for my Granny.  Had I cried for her they would have been wasted tears.  Where she is, there are no tears... there is only joy.  I had tears, I had hope.  But Granny has no need for such things where she is.  No tears, no hope... only blessed joy and communion with He who is love incarnate.

I also remember meeting Greta, my dear wife's mother.  Well, I didn't actually meet her in person: I met her at her memorial service through those to whom she was a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend.  I heard tales of her, stories of a beautiful woman who enriched the lives of those around her.  I saw sorrow in the eyes of those who loved her and missed her deeply.  I also saw hope.  Greta now walks in a place that we can only imagine in the vaguest of ways, a place of love, a place of joy, a place of wholeness.

There is no abiding tragedy in the death of a Christian.  There is the sorrow of losing the company of loved ones.  There are questions of why - questions we are not able to answer sufficiently in this life.  there are tears.  Tragedy?  No, there cannot truly be tragedy when we have such hope, when those who have left us are drinking deep from the well of infinite joy and love.

I have not known Pastor Bill.  I have not been a part of his church congregation.  But as I listened to his memorial service I realized that the power behind the life that he led - the life that so obviously moved and inspired those around him - is the same power that guides my life.  We worship and serve the same loving God.  Those of his congregation who feel the pain of loss are comforted with the same comfort with which all Christians are comforted: the hope of eternal life, eternal joy.

We are an Easter people... a people of hope, of life.  Even death cannot change that.  Those who have gone on, who have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, those people have a hope that is now realized.  Theirs is a hope fulfilled.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.

Gloria Deo!

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Love and Sight...

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The other day my wife left me a note:

Dear Tyler,
I do love you [...] please know that I'm so proud of you, of the great man that you are!

I was quite moved by this little reminder of her love for me.  I was moved that she is proud of me.  Then I got to thinking about it: 'She doesn't really know me.  If she knew me the way I know me, she wouldn't feel very proud of me.  I'm not a great man, far from it.'

I have become very good at projecting an air of confidence.  Many years ago I decided to become confident.  I looked around me and realized that confident people made their way in the world while those who are clearly less-than-confident do not.  Yes, I walk with confidence, I talk with confidence - usually I am quite confident - but inside I am surely less-than-confident.  It is a funny thing that I've yet to figure out: I have great confidence in my abilities, but I have a low self-esteem and struggle constantly with self-doubt.  I have managed to become supremely confident and overwhelmingly self-doubting.

As I was sitting there thinking about how misplaced my dear wife's pride was, how misinformed she was about me, how little she truly knew me, as I was sitting there wallowing in my self-doubt a strange thought suddenly occurred to me: what if she was right?  What if she did know me?  What if she actually knows me better than I know myself?

I've often heard it said that people are blinded by love, that love blinds one to the faults of another.  But, if I am to be honest with myself, I must admit that my wife knows my faults.  Surely she knows my faults.  Sometimes I suspect she knows them better than I do.  If she knows my faults and is still able to say that she's proud of me and the "great man" that I am, what does that say about my appraisal of the situation?  How am I then to receive this little note?

I know my wife is intelligent. I have great respect for her - in fact I wouldn't hesitate to say that she is one of the people whom I respect most.  Having said that, can I so easily disregard her praise of me?  No, I think not.

It seems to me that, though infatuation may blind, love does not.  Love does not diminish sight, but instead allows for greater sight, greater insight.  It is indeed love that makes us capable of seeing people in any sense that at all resembles their true self.  Is it because of my wife's love for me that she is able to see my 'greatness', while not denying my 'lowness'?

Perhaps love not only allows one to see the person as they are, but as they will be.  Love does not merely view, but it interacts, it encourages and inspires, it motivates and propels. Love sees not only actuality, but also potentiality.  Hmmm...

I have been carrying this little note around for the last few days.  I get down quite easily in this stage of my studies.  I find myself battling with self-doubt more than anything when it comes to working on my thesis.  I've been pulling out this note whenever the struggle gets to be too much.  I read her words; I listen to her appraisal of me.  It is not that I merely rest in her words.  No, it is more than that.  While I make a conscious decision to listen to and trust the truth that her love enables her to see, I also resolve to prove the truth of it in my actions, to honour that love and pride.

Which voice ought we listen to: the doubting voice in our head or the loving voices of those around us?

Always trust the loving voices.  They are the ones whose eyes are guided by their hearts. They are the ones with eyes that truly see.

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Learning to Focus on the Task Set Before Me...

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Christmas time recently ended (four days ago already) and the holiday mode of being must likewise end.  I didn't accomplish very much of my studies over the holiday break.  Yes, I had intended to take a little bit of time to relax and forget (temporarily) about my studies; but that time is passed.

As I near the end of my studies, the end of a seven year post-secondary educational journey, I find it increasingly difficult to focus on the task at hand.  I find my mind wondering what life is like for the non-student.  It has been so long that I honestly cannot remember.  I imagine that it is restful.  Those who have not walked the path of a university student might laugh at my rose-coloured picture of the non-student life.  I might one day laugh at such thoughts.  But when you are on the inside, when every waking moment is time that ought to be spend in study, when the seemingly perpetual educational sword is dangling above, always ready to drop, always hurriedly fighting to make it to the next deadline... when you are on the inside... it is easy to imagine the ease of life on the outside.

Later this year, for the first time in our lives together neither my wife nor myself will be in school.  What will we do with all that free time?  We will go for walks together in the evening.  Not the all to brief walks that we take together after dinner; but long walks where we can take the time to enjoy a sunset.  We will go on dates to the movies.  We will call up friends on a whim.  Yeah, it does seem a little to rose-coloured to be realistic.  But, nonetheless, that's what it is looking like from this perspective.

But for now, I have set before me one of the greatest challenges of my life.  I have a challenge that requires my undivided focus.  It requires that I keep myself firmly planted in the task at hand.  I think I'm done shedding tears over this thesis.  I still may not be able to stand up straight for all weight that I continually carry on my shoulders.  I still may have to deal with minor (and not so minor) panic attacks.  The self-doubt, the worry, the fear... I still have these to carry with me as I complete the journey.  But, I'm definitely ready to be done.  I've accepted all of these things as part of the process (or at least as part of my process).

I suspect when I look back years from now and consider what I learned during my Graduate studies, what I learned from my thesis, it will not be the subject material that first comes to mind - it will not be any of the many thinkers that I studied or books that I read that will have provided the greatest lesson.  When I look back years from now on my time in Graduate studies it will be the process, the journey that will likely stand out to me as the greatest of lessons that I've learned.  It will be the many tears that have wet my desk, the many fears that threatened to break my will to continue... it will be the character growth that the journey required of me.

I seems to me that writing a thesis is nine parts discipline and diligence and one part intelligence.  Admittedly, this has been (continues to be) a difficult lesson for me to learn.

For now, as I struggle to learn that important lesson, I have to force myself to stay on task, to stay focused, and to stay hopeful.  When I'm done with this task, then I can begin to find out what post-university life is like.  Until then...

... back to the books for me.


Κύριε Ιησού Χριστέ, Υιέ του Θεού, ελέησόν με τον αμαρτωλόν

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