Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
“Taking Chance” A Lenten Parable from HBO
Readers’ Advisory – Reading someone else’s writing about a poem is never safe. What the writer thinks is there is likely to be different from what you think is there. And make no mistake: TAKING CHANCE is a poem. A mesmerizing little film that runs just over an hour with the thinnest of story lines but the thickness of premium ice cream and as many facets as a well cut diamond.
At its simplest, this film is the story of a Marine Colonel who, frustrated with his role as a desk jockey, volunteers to escort the body of PFC Chance Phelps, a young Marine who has been killed in Iraq, home to his family.
At its core, the film is also a profound illustration of the miracle that can happen when a person takes to heart the words of Ian’s wonderful song, “There’s a Black Wind blowing across this land . . . . Reach out and take somebody’s hand.”
Against all protocol – “officers are not generally assigned to escort PFCs” the Colonel is told – this man asks for the job and discovers that he has asked for it for “wrong” reasons. The Colonel has focused on this particular young Marine believing that he will be returning the body to his own hometown. Does he think he will be making his own journey home? It turns out, however, that Chance was recruited in the Colonel’s hometown, but that his family is actually in a small town in another State.
Nevertheless, the Colonel undertakes his task with absolute vigilance. He begins by checking with the Dover mortuary staff to make sure that Chance has been dressed in the correct dress uniform carrying all of the medals the young man has earned. He has been told that he is not to let go of the bag holding Chance’s personal effects until he gives it to the family, and he refuses to relinquish it at airport security. He is told he is responsible for the soldier until they arrive at the destination mortuary and not only does he check to ensure that the correct box is loaded and unloaded at each transfer, but he chooses to sleep by its side in a warehouse during the overnight layover at the Minneapolis airport.
No over-the-top stereotypes here: the Colonel takes every action with the deliberateness of a priest kissing his stole at the highest of Masses.
Along the way he, and we, meet an amazing array of people who choose, each in his or her own way, to participate in the young Marine’s journey home. Once they reach Chance’s hometown, the Colonel has no responsibilities other than the delivery of the personal effects, but he meets and chooses to participate with a remarkable community that has dedicated itself to events surrounding the homecoming and burial.
I’ve left more out of this telling than I have put in, but nothing I could write could really capture thie extraordinary experience I had watching this film. Based on the Colonel’s journal of his trip, it is a stately riff on teamwork, ritual, and community. And, to me, it is the story of one man’s surprising redefinition of what matters – and of his reconnection to his own soul.
The events of TAKING CHANCE began over Easter weekend of 2004; watching it will probably become part of my own Easter tradition. It may not become part of yours, but I urge you to see it and discover for yourself what it says to you.
At its simplest, this film is the story of a Marine Colonel who, frustrated with his role as a desk jockey, volunteers to escort the body of PFC Chance Phelps, a young Marine who has been killed in Iraq, home to his family.
At its core, the film is also a profound illustration of the miracle that can happen when a person takes to heart the words of Ian’s wonderful song, “There’s a Black Wind blowing across this land . . . . Reach out and take somebody’s hand.”
Against all protocol – “officers are not generally assigned to escort PFCs” the Colonel is told – this man asks for the job and discovers that he has asked for it for “wrong” reasons. The Colonel has focused on this particular young Marine believing that he will be returning the body to his own hometown. Does he think he will be making his own journey home? It turns out, however, that Chance was recruited in the Colonel’s hometown, but that his family is actually in a small town in another State.
Nevertheless, the Colonel undertakes his task with absolute vigilance. He begins by checking with the Dover mortuary staff to make sure that Chance has been dressed in the correct dress uniform carrying all of the medals the young man has earned. He has been told that he is not to let go of the bag holding Chance’s personal effects until he gives it to the family, and he refuses to relinquish it at airport security. He is told he is responsible for the soldier until they arrive at the destination mortuary and not only does he check to ensure that the correct box is loaded and unloaded at each transfer, but he chooses to sleep by its side in a warehouse during the overnight layover at the Minneapolis airport.
No over-the-top stereotypes here: the Colonel takes every action with the deliberateness of a priest kissing his stole at the highest of Masses.
Along the way he, and we, meet an amazing array of people who choose, each in his or her own way, to participate in the young Marine’s journey home. Once they reach Chance’s hometown, the Colonel has no responsibilities other than the delivery of the personal effects, but he meets and chooses to participate with a remarkable community that has dedicated itself to events surrounding the homecoming and burial.
I’ve left more out of this telling than I have put in, but nothing I could write could really capture thie extraordinary experience I had watching this film. Based on the Colonel’s journal of his trip, it is a stately riff on teamwork, ritual, and community. And, to me, it is the story of one man’s surprising redefinition of what matters – and of his reconnection to his own soul.
The events of TAKING CHANCE began over Easter weekend of 2004; watching it will probably become part of my own Easter tradition. It may not become part of yours, but I urge you to see it and discover for yourself what it says to you.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Pregnancy is the new Lent!
Jimmy's sermon yesterday and and the discussion after really had me cracking up. I have been racking my brain about what I should "give up" for lent, something that would bring me closer to God. Hmmmm....as people talked about giving up drinking, sugar or worrying (good luck!), I thought hold it. I am a walking poster for lent. At 8 1/2 months pregnant I have given up many things, drinking, eating too much sugar, and recently bending down to pick something up! Pregnancy has slowed me down. I can't walk too far, go too far, busy myself with too many things...instead I am reflective, taking care of myself, and napping! all things I would NEVER do unless I was carrying a child!!
Being pregnant has brought me closer to God. I am relying on him more to take care of me, thinking about all the things I am grateful for, and hopeful for my baby girl on the way. There's a lot of trust going on between me and the big man right now. I am "listening up", I am not distracted. I am connected to God, I think he designed it this way!
Yes, I still worry, get cranky, and emotional, but the truth is I have to rely on God right now. Pregnancy is a very "Out of control state" and I am a very 'In control" person. This may be the perfect exercise for a type A-er like me!
After I have the baby I will probably go back to my old ways, but I am hoping I can remember how it feels to have nine (really ten people) months of lent. I highly recommend it.
Liz
Being pregnant has brought me closer to God. I am relying on him more to take care of me, thinking about all the things I am grateful for, and hopeful for my baby girl on the way. There's a lot of trust going on between me and the big man right now. I am "listening up", I am not distracted. I am connected to God, I think he designed it this way!
Yes, I still worry, get cranky, and emotional, but the truth is I have to rely on God right now. Pregnancy is a very "Out of control state" and I am a very 'In control" person. This may be the perfect exercise for a type A-er like me!
After I have the baby I will probably go back to my old ways, but I am hoping I can remember how it feels to have nine (really ten people) months of lent. I highly recommend it.
Liz
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Giving it up
Not too long ago, I was talking to a friend about Lent and he commented that he doesn’t generally give up favorite foods and such by way of observance. Although I may be in the running as the world’s least observant person about almost everything, I do try. And I got to wondering why. . . .
It’s not as though it’s a habit I was forced to get into as a child: my family didn't share the practice, and probably thought I was more than a little nuts.
But I think it is about habit. I think I generally do a lot of things without thinking; I think maybe most of us do. But I also know that having a relationship – with my friends, my colleagues, or with God – requires thought. Thoughtfulness. Mindfullness, if I may borrow a word from the remarkable Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh. Not the kind of routinized behavior that we repeat over and over again, whether it is accomplishing what we intend or not.
One of the things I learned when I quit smoking several life times ago (before a smoker had to leave the building to have a smoke) is that the act of NOT lighting a cigarette – NOT taking a cigarette from the pack, NOT lighting a match, and NOT putting the match to the end of the cigarette and inhaling – left me a little chunk of time I didn’t quite know how to handle. I had to stop and THINK about it.
And thinking about it often taught me that what I really needed or wanted was not the cigarette but a little break from whatever I was doing. Like most people I started to fill that time with gum and life savers; but I learned quickly that a little walk, a quick call to a friend, even turning my attention to a different task for a while, filled the space and got me past the desire for the cigarette.
I only quit smoking once, but even more importantly I learned the value of giving something up: it makes me think about what I really need when I am about to do what I usually do without thinking. And I am reminded how often what I need is a few deep breaths, a little walk, a quiet moment to remember to “give it up” in our more profound sense.
Some days I completely fail at this discipline. But I try, really try, to pay attention to what STUFF has made me turn to my habitual “easy outs.” And I try, really try, to gather that up at the end of each day and add to my prayers and meditations those issues that are always so much bigger than whether or not I had a pretzel I had planned to forgo.
It’s Ash Wednesday night and I have already collected a little pile of habits not yet broken this Lent, and some much bigger things to think about. I can only wonder what I will learn from them. . . .
It’s not as though it’s a habit I was forced to get into as a child: my family didn't share the practice, and probably thought I was more than a little nuts.
But I think it is about habit. I think I generally do a lot of things without thinking; I think maybe most of us do. But I also know that having a relationship – with my friends, my colleagues, or with God – requires thought. Thoughtfulness. Mindfullness, if I may borrow a word from the remarkable Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh. Not the kind of routinized behavior that we repeat over and over again, whether it is accomplishing what we intend or not.
One of the things I learned when I quit smoking several life times ago (before a smoker had to leave the building to have a smoke) is that the act of NOT lighting a cigarette – NOT taking a cigarette from the pack, NOT lighting a match, and NOT putting the match to the end of the cigarette and inhaling – left me a little chunk of time I didn’t quite know how to handle. I had to stop and THINK about it.
And thinking about it often taught me that what I really needed or wanted was not the cigarette but a little break from whatever I was doing. Like most people I started to fill that time with gum and life savers; but I learned quickly that a little walk, a quick call to a friend, even turning my attention to a different task for a while, filled the space and got me past the desire for the cigarette.
I only quit smoking once, but even more importantly I learned the value of giving something up: it makes me think about what I really need when I am about to do what I usually do without thinking. And I am reminded how often what I need is a few deep breaths, a little walk, a quiet moment to remember to “give it up” in our more profound sense.
Some days I completely fail at this discipline. But I try, really try, to pay attention to what STUFF has made me turn to my habitual “easy outs.” And I try, really try, to gather that up at the end of each day and add to my prayers and meditations those issues that are always so much bigger than whether or not I had a pretzel I had planned to forgo.
It’s Ash Wednesday night and I have already collected a little pile of habits not yet broken this Lent, and some much bigger things to think about. I can only wonder what I will learn from them. . . .
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The End of Days – When Everything Will Be Fixed, Right?
Jimmy’s teaching and our dialogue this past Sunday got me to thinking about how impatient we are to have things Fixed – and how we seem so often to think, or at least behave as if we think, that there is some magical RIGHT answer. If only we could discern it . . . .
It’s especially easy to be impatient these days, when so many people are confronted by so much in the economy of the World that is genuinely scary. A magical reversal of fortune has a huge visceral appeal. Couldn’t someone please make that happen?
But I also got to thinking about what it means to be Fixed, and was reminded of an old song: “Soon you'll attain the stability you strive for/in the only way that it's granted/in a place among the fossils of our time.” Not the most famous of Jefferson Airplane’s lyrics perhaps, but thought-provoking nonetheless.
When we hope for something to get Fixed, we usually have one Fixed Image in our minds. But think of all the fables that have evolved over the centuries to illustrate the adage, “Be careful what you wish for; you might get it.” And in our scientific age we even have a formal name for it: The Law of Unintended Consequences.
But, for better or for worse, “Life is Change; how it differs from the rocks.” We know this is true in the World, and if our fleeting glimpses of the Kingdom suggest anything, it seems to me that they suggest that stasis doesn’t play a big role in It, either.
If that’s true, then maybe a really important step toward living the Kingdom life is not only to be on the lookout for the “Something Good [that] This Way Comes” as Jakob Dylan tells us, but also to remember that each thing (good or bad) is but a beginning.
Trading in our hope for the End of Days – or more immediately, Three (easy) Wishes – for real attention and very deep patience promises a lot of disequilibrium. But maybe we really do have to abandon Terra Firma, at least in our minds, if we want to reach the Kingdom.
It’s especially easy to be impatient these days, when so many people are confronted by so much in the economy of the World that is genuinely scary. A magical reversal of fortune has a huge visceral appeal. Couldn’t someone please make that happen?
But I also got to thinking about what it means to be Fixed, and was reminded of an old song: “Soon you'll attain the stability you strive for/in the only way that it's granted/in a place among the fossils of our time.” Not the most famous of Jefferson Airplane’s lyrics perhaps, but thought-provoking nonetheless.
When we hope for something to get Fixed, we usually have one Fixed Image in our minds. But think of all the fables that have evolved over the centuries to illustrate the adage, “Be careful what you wish for; you might get it.” And in our scientific age we even have a formal name for it: The Law of Unintended Consequences.
But, for better or for worse, “Life is Change; how it differs from the rocks.” We know this is true in the World, and if our fleeting glimpses of the Kingdom suggest anything, it seems to me that they suggest that stasis doesn’t play a big role in It, either.
If that’s true, then maybe a really important step toward living the Kingdom life is not only to be on the lookout for the “Something Good [that] This Way Comes” as Jakob Dylan tells us, but also to remember that each thing (good or bad) is but a beginning.
Trading in our hope for the End of Days – or more immediately, Three (easy) Wishes – for real attention and very deep patience promises a lot of disequilibrium. But maybe we really do have to abandon Terra Firma, at least in our minds, if we want to reach the Kingdom.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
A Rule is not a Rule is not a Rule
We’ve been talking a lot about Rules lately, and how they are so easy to rely on and so hard to let go of – even when we know that the Rules may not take us where we mean to go. We hope that doing our homework helps us learn, but it’s the learning we mean to achieve. . . .
I got to thinking last week about the fact that I’m not much of a Rule person myself – never met one I wouldn’t break is how one annoyed person once put it. But I usually break them in the service not of the Spirit, but of Getting Something Done. Completion and deadlines are my bêtes noirs, as it were – the thing that reduces me to mindless behavior, as if my life depended on it.
Which, of course, it doesn’t; though I fear sometimes the people around me may fear that their lives might.
Talismans. We all have them. The things we think (or, often, don’t think) we can do or say or be that somehow buy us the right not to pay attention to anything else, no matter how important it might be. If we just eat enough spinach, nothing will ever defeat us – no man, no beast, no disease, nothing.
Nothing but inattention – the very thing I begin to think is the most impermeable boundary between us and the Kingdom. The thing that ensures that we don’t relate to anything or anyone, not God, not friend, not neighbor.
As I think about some of the many ways we’ve talked about making space for the Spirit, I am struck by the ways they are variations on a theme: stop and enjoy the wildflowers; really listen to our partners, children, and colleagues; enjoy the exhilaration of that really perfect wave. All are really about Paying Attention. Even acknowledging the depth of some pain that must be lived through is a prelude to giving it up . . . .
Maybe on the days the World is too much with us, if we can just shift our focus and really pay attention to something – anything – we can let down enough walls and create enough space for the Kingdom to touch us on the shoulder or take us by the hand and begin to draw us back in.
I got to thinking last week about the fact that I’m not much of a Rule person myself – never met one I wouldn’t break is how one annoyed person once put it. But I usually break them in the service not of the Spirit, but of Getting Something Done. Completion and deadlines are my bêtes noirs, as it were – the thing that reduces me to mindless behavior, as if my life depended on it.
Which, of course, it doesn’t; though I fear sometimes the people around me may fear that their lives might.
Talismans. We all have them. The things we think (or, often, don’t think) we can do or say or be that somehow buy us the right not to pay attention to anything else, no matter how important it might be. If we just eat enough spinach, nothing will ever defeat us – no man, no beast, no disease, nothing.
Nothing but inattention – the very thing I begin to think is the most impermeable boundary between us and the Kingdom. The thing that ensures that we don’t relate to anything or anyone, not God, not friend, not neighbor.
As I think about some of the many ways we’ve talked about making space for the Spirit, I am struck by the ways they are variations on a theme: stop and enjoy the wildflowers; really listen to our partners, children, and colleagues; enjoy the exhilaration of that really perfect wave. All are really about Paying Attention. Even acknowledging the depth of some pain that must be lived through is a prelude to giving it up . . . .
Maybe on the days the World is too much with us, if we can just shift our focus and really pay attention to something – anything – we can let down enough walls and create enough space for the Kingdom to touch us on the shoulder or take us by the hand and begin to draw us back in.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Someone to watch over me
With thanks to the Gershwin bothers, I want to share some of what I think are very resonant lyrics:
There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
Still we’re often told, "seek and ye shall find"
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind
Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet
He’s the big affair I cannot forget
Only man I ever think of with regret
OK, it’s a little cute, and it doesn’t pretend to be about anything but a Worldly romance. But think about it: doesn’t it capture a longing we all feel – for the loving eyes of God watching over us, in good moments and bad. The loving glance that lights our world when it is present and leaves us in such darkness when we can't see it. . . .
Although Christmas has officially ended for this year, let's try to remember Jimmy's Chirstmas Eve admonition to "follow the Star." To that end, let me offer a reminder of the AM Radio version of the Kings’ discovery in the Manger:
I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes
Love is all around me
And so the feeling grows
It's written on the wind
It's everywhere I go, oh yes it is
For those of you who remember it, the tune that goes with these words is definitely one of those sticky, icky things that just won’t leave your head. But maybe that’s a really good thing, if we can just remember that we are talking about the real Love that pervades the Kingdom and can envelop us any time we remember to open ourselves to let it in.
There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
Still we’re often told, "seek and ye shall find"
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind
Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet
He’s the big affair I cannot forget
Only man I ever think of with regret
OK, it’s a little cute, and it doesn’t pretend to be about anything but a Worldly romance. But think about it: doesn’t it capture a longing we all feel – for the loving eyes of God watching over us, in good moments and bad. The loving glance that lights our world when it is present and leaves us in such darkness when we can't see it. . . .
Although Christmas has officially ended for this year, let's try to remember Jimmy's Chirstmas Eve admonition to "follow the Star." To that end, let me offer a reminder of the AM Radio version of the Kings’ discovery in the Manger:
I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes
Love is all around me
And so the feeling grows
It's written on the wind
It's everywhere I go, oh yes it is
For those of you who remember it, the tune that goes with these words is definitely one of those sticky, icky things that just won’t leave your head. But maybe that’s a really good thing, if we can just remember that we are talking about the real Love that pervades the Kingdom and can envelop us any time we remember to open ourselves to let it in.
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