The Eagle & Child

For me, the paradigmatic experience of preaching is not the good sermon, but the failed sermon: when you’re trying to speak God’s Word, but you’re looking out at a sea of bored, distracted, yawning faces, people furtively glancing at their watches – when you yourself, the preacher, are glancing at your watch and wondering when it will all be over. Anyone who has to preach regularly will know this experience. It is an exemplary experience, because it’s here that you encounter the real nature of preaching: the fact that it arises not from the preacher’s fullness, but from an unbearable emptiness; the fact that it is always bound to fail – it has to fail – unless some miracle occurs, unless God speaks.

The most beautiful vases are often made to look unfinished; there is something incomplete about them, a kind of beautiful, beckoning lack. In the same way, I think preaching should be performed in such a way that it never seems quite finished, never perfect or complete. When you stand up and begin to speak, you are marking a vacant spot, a need, a prayer for something else, something other to occur.

(read the whole thing)

Karl Barth, one of the 20th century’s greatest and most important theologians, said this to sum up his massive 14-volume Church Dogmatics: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

That tells you a great deal about his theology (countering my dad’s opinion of him as a “liberal” in the pejorative sense), and it takes up a whole lot less shelf space.

It won’t be long before I’m attending one of these concerts (just audio):

(via Failblog. A new favourite fail.)

Remember that time that I posted about how much I like melancholic maritime fiction?  No, well, I did.  Today Rilla posted this on my Facebook wall.  It is both AWESOME and hilarious, mostly because it’s an incredibly accurate summary of the genre. In other words, it’s funny ’cause it’s true.  Of course, if you’ve never read any of this type of lit, it won’t seem like such a big deal:

I’m a fan of the movie…mashup? re-edit? re-cut? A particularly good one was the Mary Poppins re-cut into a trailer which made it look like it would be a horror film.  I have to say, though, that I think this Seinfeld recut may be my favourite so far, because it works on so many levels:

(via @grrrlmeetsworld

So I have some ideas for posts here.  In fact, I’m going to note them here before I forget them:

• something about calling (the vocational kind) and daydreaming
• something about the difference between following Jesus and following the teachings of Jesus and is one, technically,  ”Christianity” and the other not
• something about “home”
• several brilliant ones about something I forgot.

The laziness of summer grows over my will to type as well, hence little blogging.  But here’s something about what I’ve been reading.  My grand vision of April fizzled quickly, though I did start reading The New Testament and the People of God and I read The Power and the Glory in its entirety. Since posting my summer reading list in April, I’ve read the following.  You’ll notice a sharp shift to fiction, which is to be expected after 8 months of non-.

1. The Pearl, John Steinbeck. A short little “novella”, could be read in a day.  I read it in a couple of days with a one-month break or so in between. Our grade 9 English teacher read it to the class and all I really remembered before reading it again is the name “Coyotito”, which at the time we thought was hilarious.  I’d like to relive that grade 9 reading again, because our English teacher had a unique manner of speaking and I have no idea anymore how that would translate into a reading.  Come to think of it, he may have sounded akin to Margaret Atwood, but that might just be my memory playing games with me.

A good tale about greed and the meaning of success (my take).

2. In Defense of Food, Michael Pollan. A book against what Pollan dubs “nutritionism” and an argument for a sensible diet, following this simple rule: “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.”  Insightful and helpful.

3. Full Moon, P.G. Wodehouse. Wodehouse is a brilliant writer and humourist.  It follows the standard Wodehouse formula–tales of love and misunderstanding among the British upper-class–but Wodehouse never fails to impress with his mastery of English language and vocabulary. Neither does he fail to amuse and delight.

4. Culture of Fear: Why Americans Are Afraid of the Wrong Things, Barry Glassner. This one also took a while to get through.  It was interesting, but after a while a pattern clearly developed, which can be turned into a summary of the book: the media over-hypes the wrong crimes and trends by misuse of statistics (second lesson: statistics can easily be made to say anything). It’s a bit out of date, as it was published the year before 9/11, which would have a bearing on the subject matter.  A new edition, which I assume will address some of the related issues, was released in January

5. No Great Mischief, Alistair MacLeod. My second time reading this story chronicling the history of a couple of generations of MacDonalds on Cape Breton.  A good read–full of maritime melancholy–but not as good as MacLeod’s short stories.

6. Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut. Third or fourth time reading this one. While I liked it more than I did the first time, I still don’t understand why this is such a perennial favourite of fans.  Maybe if I re-read more Vonnegut I will see that it stands proudly with the rest of his work, but if memory serves, it’s not the best of the Vonnegut I’ve read.  It’s hard not to enjoy Vonnegut, though.  It’s hard to describe this story–it essentially describes the lead-up to the fateful meeting of science fiction writer Kilgore Trout and car salesman Dwayne Hoover. Sounds dull. It isn’t.

7. The Power and the Glory, Graham Greene. Apparently this is his magnum opus. I always have the feeling after reading these literary novels that I didn’t “get” it, even though there may well be nothing to get. Either way, I enjoyed the story of a priest on the run in a Mexican state where the church has been banned and clergy are being shot. Unless I was quite drawn to this “Whiskey Priest”–a drunk and self-confessed failure as a clergyman who nevertheless is continually drawn to his priestly duties. I read most of this book in the Okanagan. The hot, dry climate was in my mind perfect for a novel set in Mexico.

8. Mother Night, Kurt Vonnegut. Another good Vonnegut novel.  The fictional autobiography of a Nazi propagandist and double agent.

I’ve been on a bit of a roll in terms of choosing books that draw me in and keep me reading.  I had a bit of a false start a while ago when I started reading A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (wrong timing, I think, or maybe I just shouldn’t read it). My hopes went up when I bought David Adams Richards’ God Is: My Search for Faith in a Secular World. I began to read it lustily.  It showed great promise at the beginning, but soon spiraled into what seems to me to be rambling account of…I don’t know what (again, perhaps, a matter of timing–when it comes to books, I’m ever the optimist). After finishing Mother Night a couple of days ago I had a day or so of restlessness as I couldn’t find another good book to read.  I took Anne Rice’s Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt to the beach in an effort to read the rest of it (I read the first half a year or two ago), but it wouldn’t do.

Then today on a whim I pulled The British Museum is Falling Down, a comic novel by David Lodge, off the shelf and I was hooked almost immediately.  Dixie suggested I save it for our trip to England, where we will actually visit the British Museum, but how could I put down a book when I’m already hooked?

Wow.  I’m not sure how this woman (Linda at Kingdom Grace) got into my head and then took what she found there and made it so beautiful and succint:

This might be kind of quirky, but I really am enamored with this topic.  For over a year now,  it has been like a shiny object that I hold in my hand or pocket and take out frequently to admire, study, and enjoy.  I am not sure if the fascination is because it is new to me or if it is just inherently fascinating.  Anyway, I appreciate the people in my real life and on the blog who humor me in my latest obsession.

So what did Jesus accomplish in his death and resurrection?

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. (Romans 5:18)

One has died for all, therefore all have died. (II Cor. 5:14)

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. (Romans 6:5)

For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. (I Cor. 15:21-22)

Who are the exceptions to “all”?

Just as death spread to all men through Adam, in Christ we all died and we have all been raised into new life.  We weren’t consulted about this.

The gospel has never been about qualifying people for salvation, it is about letting them know the really good news . . . that they are already loved and embraced by the Father. (Link)

(I posted something similar by Bonhoeffer earlier.)

So, listen.  I don’t know if you realize this, but I haven’t posted for nearly two weeks. That’s pretty bad.  I’ve been busy with other things, OK?  Things such as: soaking up some rays on an Okanagan beach, diving for my brother’s eye-glasses in Okanagan Lake, sleeping, playing Canasta with my mom, driving. And so on.

What brings me back today, friends, is something big. BIG. Are you familiar with Talking Carl?  It’s an iPhone app that repeats everything you say in a high voice with a vaguely sarcastic tone. I had some good times with my kids and nieces and Talking Carl on my brother’s iPhone. Good times of the wheezing and crying kind.

For your education and edification, I bring you this: a Talking Carl duel. Watch and listen and laugh, friends:

(via Dixie, who said my wheezy, teary response was predictable. She, in turn, found it at Dooce.)

I’m still here. Just on holiday. Summerland is not as summery as it was last year.

I took this on the way somewhere in southern Manitoba:

Whereas Dixie dreams almost nightly and can recount those dreams in great detail, I rarely dream or at least can rarely remember even one detail.  On occasion, a dream will be so vivid, so real, that I will wake up and ponder the dream for a while and rehearse the details so that I will remember it.

Last night I dreamed that I had dinner with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.  They asked me to be a writer for Saturday Night Live.  In the dream this was a legitimate option for me.  I considered it an opportunity of a lifetime, so I discussed it with Dixie.  We weren’t sure what we should do.  We had felt strongly that I seminary was the right place to be right now, but an relatively unknown man from a small prairie town in Saskatchewan doesn’t get contacted out of the  blue by SNL personnel. Perhaps it was providence–God intending something else.

Typical for me, I was indecisive and kept putting off any sort of commitment to Fey, who approached me several times. Eventually they hired someone else. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get another opportunity.

In the dream I woke up.  The dream was so realistic that I asked Dixie if I had had dinner with Fey and Poehler.  I had not.  I was disappointed.

Then I woke up from the dream (it had been a dream within a dream).  I was still a little disappointed that I really hadn’t had dinner with Fey and Poehler. I’ve always thought being a writer for a sitcom or a sketch comedy series would be fun.

I will console myself by saying this: Well, if Lorne Michaels can’t be bothered to ask me personally, he can take his offer and stuff it!