Hope-enhagen? I don't think so....

"Our understandable wish to preserve the planet must somehow be reduced to the scale of our competence-- that is, to the wish to preserve all of its humble households and neighborhoods." -Mr. Wendell Berry

This week in Copenhagen, world leaders are talking, talking, and talking, presumably about how to preserve the planet. The U.S. and other rich nations are coming to the table to discuss preserving the planet, but only if the decisions in Copenhagen also work toward preserving our way of life, our standard of living. Poor nations come to the table hoping to be heard, to bear witness to the ecological effects that our way of living has on the lives of households and neighborhoods throughout the world.

This week in my home, I lit an oil lamp late at night, keeping in my mind the way most humble households have been lit throughout history, and I read the foreward to Aldo Leopold's 1949 classic A Sand County Almanac :

"There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot... Now we face the question whether a still higher 'standard of living' is worth its cost in things natural, wild, and free. For us of the minority, the opportunity to see geese is more important than television, and the chance to find a pasque-flower is a right as inalienable as free speech... But wherever the truth may lie, this much is crystal clear: our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to remain healthy."

What is a healthy society? I don't know. In the same way that last year's financial crisis resulted in Wall Street bailouts, and in the same way that the promise of meaningful healthcare reform disappeared when it threatened the private sector's profits, the U.S. and the rest of the rich nations of the world will not make any changes that could potentially threaten economic growth.

So I won't hold my breath for change brought about by the talking of world leaders. What I will do is wait, as the season of Advent suggests, for the smallest glimmer of hope, hardly seen. I'll come in out of the cold in the evening and read in the dark, my only light given by the small flicker of a lit wick, reminding me of the small, near-nothingness that is hope.

another good poem (a repeat)

Lord, Before This Fleeting Season
by Mary Ann Lindra

Lord, before this fleeting season is upon us,
Let us remember to walk slowly.
Lord, bless my heart with Love and with quiet.
Give my heart a leaning to hear carols.
Grace our family with contentment,
and the peace that comes only from You.
Lord, help us to do less this busy season;
Go less; stay closer to home; kneel more.
May our hearts be Your heart.
May we simply, peacefully, celebrate You.

Thankful

Daily reflections of gratitude during the three weeks leading up to Thanksgiving:

I am thankful....

for Annen's laughter, Cutthroat Porter, Linford Detweiller's piano, and a chiropractor who can make my right leg as long as my left, if only for a few days.

Sigur Ros on the morning drive, learning to walk at a slower pace, a clean shirt, and Napoleon Bakery living up to high expectations after re-opening.

for rocking chairs, fresh baked bread, leftover pecan pumpkin pie, and an incredible wife who is apparently preparing our home for alien invasion by leaving half-empty glasses of water all around the house.

for the wisdom of E.F. Schumacher, the annual all-staff potluck at work, good health, the excessive use of smiley faces in work-related emails, and Friday afternoons.

for stuffed acorn squash and a bottle of cotes du rhone for dinner, pumpkin pecan pie and good conversation for dessert... I don't need anything that I don't have.

for Kirkin o' the Tartan, Amazing Grace on bagpipes, good health, Annen's ability to be amazed for an extended period of time by a black-and-white drawing of a butterfly, and the ridiculous glory that is Patty Griffin.

for the illuminating words of Joseph Campbell and Rumi, new fingerless gloves that can magically turn into mittens, and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot on a cold and drizzly day.

for new music Tuesdays, Dave Rawlings Machine, the anticipation of McCoy's California Uncommon Imperial Steam Beer, and the way that the intro to the Bee Gee's "Stayin' Alive" pops in my head every time I walk out of the chiropractor's office.

for the many birthday wishes, great friends and family, double B's and McCoy's brown ale at One80, and good neighbors willing to babysit Annen for free so Kristen and I can have a date night to celebrate my 27 years of life.

for the Family Medical Leave Act and staying home with Annen on Tuesdays and Thursdays, dinner with the family, two buck chuck, spice cake, the gift of American Apparel t-shirts, and a niece who requests Raffi's song "Joshua Giraffe" every time she gets in our car.

for refreshing friendships, the public library's selection of [free] documentaries including "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart", and the opportunity to witness a suburban high school student's moment of enlightenment as he learned about the challenges of kids his age who are homeless and hungry.

for the season of many shared meals.

for home.

for bulk tea, getting to catch up with old friends, Annen's increasingly-ridiculous laughter, and the intro to "everything in its right place."

for the beginning of a four day weekend, dinner and a movie with the parents, and the well done film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's "The Road"... Seriously, people: see the movie and/or read the book.

for a new nephew, born Thanksgiving day! 7 pounds 14 ounces, 19 inches long, a ton of hair, and hands so big that Andre the Giant would want to fight him sporstmanlike.

Eat Local for the Holidays

Eat Local for the Holidays. Take the pledge. Be merry.

genuflecting with a binky

At the end of the Eucharist every Sunday, after we have all gone down the aisle to receive communion and then back to our pews, we sing one final hymn before the priest offers a benediction. It always ends with the words, “And may the blessing of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be with you now and remain with you always.”

At the mention of the Trinity, you can watch across the room as a sea of people creates a subtle ripple effect by making the sign of the cross. Each person in their own time but more or less all at the same time, like a bowl of marbles dropped to the floor, lifting a hand to the forehead, down to sternum, and back up and across to each shoulder. With this motion we pluck the priest's words out of the air and affix them to our bodies with our hands, hoping they remain with us.

It has been several years since I first learned of the theological history of the sign of the cross, not only the motion but also the position of the fingers. The thumb, index, and middle fingers come to a point to symbolize the Trinity while the ring and pinkie fingers press into the palm of the hand, a reminder of Christ's paradoxical nature: fully human and fully divine. Each of these subtle symbols stand as a testament to the Church's long history of wrestling with the nature of God and man, and patching together words and symbols in the hopes of doing justice to those struggles.

This past Sunday morning, I was having my own struggle as I tried to participate in the liturgy with a three-month-old son in my right arm. Although a good amount of bowing, kneeling, standing up and sitting down is involved in the Episcopal liturgy, there is not a lot of hip movement or bouncing like you might find in a more charismatic tradition. But my efforts to keep a baby asleep and/or happy during an hour and a half service required of me the gentle rhythm of moving hips and bending knees, making me look about as ridiculous as a strung-out flower child at a military funeral. Needless to say, I chose a pew in the back of the sanctuary.

With the baby sleeping in my right arm, I prepared for potential baby squeaks by holding a binky in my left hand, a small arsenal to preemptively combat dirty looks from church ladies if the squeaking turned to shrieking. So when the benediction came, forgetting for a moment about my armament I raised my left hand and half-surprised myself when the latex nipple of the binky touched my forehead. I smiled to myself and completed the cross with the binky clutched between the fingers of the Holy Trinity.

I'm smiling to myself quite often these days. I am getting the chance to see and experience our world in new and often comical ways. What a joy to see the world through a child's eyes, and to see us humans for what we often are: holy fools who patch together words and symbols and stitch them on our sleeves, crossing ourselves with binkies and clothing ourselves in grace.

Small is Beautiful and Good Works

Last winter I read E.F. Schumacher's book Small is Beautiful, and I just recently started reading his quasi-sequel Good Work. After I took an Intro to Economics class last year, and in light of this past year's economic upheavals and uncertainties, I've been increasingly amazed by two things: (1) The absolute prophetic nature of Schumacher's writings from over thirty years ago in contrast to conventional economic thought of the time, and (2) the absolute failure of governments, communities, and individuals to make the necessary changes to redirect our history toward a more sustainable future, as though we never saw (and still don't see) the writing on the wall.

It is understandable that Schumacher, being only one man, would not be able to redirect the course of modern civilization. One also has to consider the time period in which he was putting forth his ideas. Schumacher had the opportunity to advise President Carter in the year before Carter gave what would become known as his "Malaise Speech". As I have written in the past, rather than the speech being evidence of Carter's failure as a president, I believe it is evidence of America's failure to recognize the reckless course we were on, and to accept responsibility to change that course for the better. Even the words of the leader of the free world fell on the deaf ears of a nation obsessed with a lifestyle of acquisition and consumption.

Hold on. This is not a political post, but a personal one. If I expect government to change then I must first demand that I change because, in theory, I am my government. There are two parts of Good Work I would like to quote, the first being Schumacher's trinitarian definition of good work:

"...We may derive the three purposes of human work as follows: First, to provide necessary and useful goods and services. Second, to enable every one of us to use and thereby perfect our gifts like good stewards. Third, to do so in service to, and in cooperation with, others, so as to liberate ourselves from our inborn egocentricity."

The second quote considers the challenges that come to those living life in a way that steps out of line from the onward march of American progress and marches instead to a different beat. Enjoy:

"The degeneration of the industrial system- that is, the ever-intensified idolatry of getting rich quickly- offers everywhere ample opportunities for bringing light into dark places. Everywhere the values of freedom, responsibility, and human dignity have to be openly affirmed, even where a neglect of these values would appear to allow the big industrial machine to run more smoothly and more efficiently. It may not be possible to do this without causing offense. To tell a young person that his personal integrity is more important than his career may sound almost like sabotage in the ears of the efficiency experts. To insist that the reckless waste of natural resources is a crime does not sound cooperative to those who think that the highest possible rate of consumption is the only worthwhile pursuit for mortal man." (italics mine.)

Random Recents

Good Reading: I used to read Real Live Preacher on a much more regular basis. I don't know why I have become so sporadic, especially when he writes good stuff like this. What does it mean to be true to yourself?

Garden: We spent an hour on Saturday raking leaves with a few neighbors, loading the leaves into three pick-up trucks, and driving up to the community garden to unload them into what is possibly the world's largest pile of leaves. The three kids who were with us took turns jumping from a seven-foot ledge into the pile and one by one disappeared beneath the leaves. Eventually a few of us big kids joined in on the fun. By next spring, those leaves will have broken down a bit to help us restore nutrients to the soil for planting, but for now they are just one big pile of fun.

Music: Fiction Family. This album is a collaboration between Sean Watkins (of Nickel Creek) and Jon Foreman (of Switchfoot). Check out the song "Resurrect Me" and come back and tell me if it didn't rock your face and stir your soul at the same time.

Quote: "Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." ~George Eliot