Good Friday and Earth Day
Today, for the first time ever, Earth Day falls on Good Friday. So, you can stop by Starbucks or Caribou Coffee with your travel mug and get a free cup of coffee on the way to Good Friday services. What a country!
I wondered, however, if any Christians were working on the connection between the two celebrations, and here’s a quick smattering of what I’ve found.
- a glorious article by my former profs, Stan Saunders and Bill Brown entitled, “Good Friday and Earth Day: A Providential Convergence” Earth Covenant Ministry version here | AJC version here
- John Murdock asks the question on Patheos, “Is Good Friday Good for the Earth?“
- and a friend is organizing a “Good Friday Seed Bomb” event at her church today with dirt, seeds, and the promise of new life
- and Jennifer Frayer-Griggs reminds her Facebook friends of this exerpt from Wendell Berry’s novel Jayber Crow
All my life I had heard preachers quoting John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” They would preach on the second part of the verse, to show the easiness of being saved (”Only believe”). Where I hung now was the first part. If God loved the world even before the event at Bethlehem, that meant He loved it as it was, with all its faults. That would be Hell itself, in part. He would be like a father with a wayward child, whom He can’t help and can’t forget. But it would be even worse than that, for He would also know the wayward child and the course of its waywardness and its suffering. That His love contains all the world does not show that the world does not matter, or that He and we do not suffer it unto death; it shows that the world is Hell only in part. But His love can contain it only by compassion and mercy, which, if not Hell entirely, would be at least a crucifixion…
What answer can human intelligence make to God’s love for the world? What answer, for that matter, can it make to our own love for the world? If a person loved the world–really loved it and forgave its wrongs and so might have his own wrongs forgiven” what would be next?…
If God loves the world, might that not be proved in my own love for it? I prayed to know in my heart His love for the world, and this was my most prideful, foolish, and dangerous prayer. It was my step into the abyss. As soon as I prayed it, I knew that I would die. I knew the old wrong and the death that lay in the world. Just as a good man would not coerce the love of his wife, God does not coerce the love of His human creatures, not for Himself or for the world or for one another. To allow that love to exist fully and freely, He must allow it not to exist at all. His love is suffering. It is our freedom and His sorrow. To love the world as much even as I could love it would be suffering also, for I would fail. And yet all the good I know is in this, that a man might so love this world that it would break his heart.”
One of Megan’s Facebook friends wrote off-handedly this morning in her status about the insignificance of Earth Day as compared to Good Friday. I get it. Good Friday came first. But, on second thought, Earth Day can really only take its full meaning with God’s love in Jesus in mind. Blessings for a Good Earth Day and Holy Friday to all.
image by brianloc
Oil price surge GOOD for drivers
Yesterday’s headline on the front page of the dead tree edition of the Grand Forks Herald read, “Oil price surge bad for drivers, good for N.D. revenue.” I appreciate the difficulty of writing pithy headlines (and sermon titles), but I think either writer Dave Roepke, or perhaps his editor, erred.
It may be the case that many drivers see high gas prices as “bad,” but I don’t. In fact, I welcome them.
Gas prices in the U.S. need to be higher to bring about a change in our behavior — driving less, building more eco-friendly neighborhoods, supporting mass transit, walking/riding bikes. In other countries, as I noted in this post written when I lived in Scotland, government gas taxes are much higher, enough to make people think twice before buying a large car and contributing to climate change.
Yes, some people — many people — suffer when gas prices are high. That’s why part of the national gas tax needs to go to farmers and those with low incomes. But as visionary Thomas Friedman argued this week, “If Not Now, When?”
In a labored but effective metaphor Friedman says of the turmoil in the Middle East which has caused gas prices in the middle west to rise:
America, you have built your house at the foot of a volcano. That volcano is now spewing lava from different cracks and is rumbling like it’s going to blow. Move your house!” In this case, “move your house” means “end your addiction to oil.
Every US President since Nixon has announced, “We are addicted to oil.” That’s every President, Democrat and Republican. The right public policy is to fight that addiction with a national gas tax.
So, to the headline-writer in the Herald yesterday I say, here’s one Grand Forks driver who begs to differ. Even as I abhor the violence in the Middle East, I welcome the pain at the pump. If only our government officials would raise the stakes some more.
Jon Stewart adds his satirical genius below:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| An Energy-Independent Future | ||||
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“In the quite-likely event of an emergency, remain calm”
Bailouts, breached levees, and pregnant chads, oh my!
I’m not much of a retrospective guy, but David Von Drehle’s “2000: A Nation Divided” in TIME a few weeks back has kept me in the mood for some time now. And reading Dave Eggers’ fantastic book Zeitoun this week only drove the nail home.
Here’s what I’m thinking: if my young adulthood really has been formed by the 2000 election debacle, 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, the housing crisis, Lehman Brothers’ and AIG collapse, climate change unchecked, senseless war in Iraq, endless war in Afghanistan, SARS, a devastating tsunami, killer earthquakes, and the collapse of the publishing industry then, well, I’ve had a pretty screwed up post-high school experience. By all rights, I should despise institutions, be suspect of all money-driven media, and keep a gun and cash under my pillow each night. But, well, I don’t; I’m not. Am I too-cool-a-cucumber? A crazy cat? If not, what’s up?
First, surely the 24/7 news cycle desensitizes since there must always be a big story. I wrote about this a little in “Consuming Media Justly,” but I still don’t really have an answer. They say “familiarity breeds contempt” but maybe in problematic news “familiarity breeds nonchalance.”
Second, all institutions are suspect, so life goes on. The last decade was not a good one for civil liberties in the US, and yet I’m not outraged. Even companies whose products I love, like Apple, fail to impress me beyond the beauty of their current product line. As much as I wish things were different, I expect their computers and iThingies to be made in China under questionable circumstances. I know Apple will one day be history, as well as Facebook and CNN, and that’s ok. Trust and respect have become a transient commodity. Just as Facebook becomes popular we ask, “When will it go bust? What will be next?”
Third, the prevalence of injustice is nearly overwhelming. This isn’t totally a modern phenomenon, but these days we do seem inundated with the world’s problems. Each day, we know, thousands die of hunger and preventable diseases. Thousands more are tortured and imprisoned unjustly. In my own country, LGBTQ folks are still treated as second-class citizens and to call our immigration system “broken” could be the biggest understatement of the year.
Now, yes, certainly, many fantastically good things also mark the last decade or so, but they’re overshadowed by the troubling times. I don’t think that’s some media conspiracy, I just think we’ve had a bad run. But, even so, I’m somehow hopeful. I get annoyed at Facebook friends who only link to pessimistic and damning articles. Maybe it’s my Christian sensibilities, my trust in ultimate love beyond our weary world that helps me remain calm. Maybe it’s my American faith that hard work and steady minds will carry the day, that the American experiment is far from over, which keeps me optimistic. As Martin Luther King Jr. put it, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” Bend, oh 2011, bend.
image by Cancia Leirissa
Where your bagel came from
Your eyes are not deceiving you. That, indeed, is the US Capitol, live wheat, and a combine. This isn’t the work of Photoshop, rather it’s the Urban Wheat Field facilitated by the Wheat Foods Council and the National Association of Wheat Growers (NAWG). And how’s this for cool points: a member of our congregational (and a member of the committee which called me) is Second Vice President of NAWG.
Last week, must have been big for agriculture on Capitol Hill, because a few days before Stephen Colbert gave his hilarious and compelling testimony (discussed here), the wheat industry came together to educate Members of Congress and the public of D.C. about wheat. Turns out it doesn’t grow in the back of grocery stories. Part of the Farm to Fork movement, the D.C. display included a quarter-acre of live wheat in pallets, and areas to learn about milling, baking, and nutrition.
Several Members of Congress were in attendance, and our congregation member Erik Younggren, even made it back to church on Sunday! Erik also blogs about his wheat farm at the awesome url MyWheatFarm.com
Farming has received some more time under the spot light in recent years, with Michael Pollan’s influential work and documentaries like Food Inc. Community Support Agriculture also seems to be taking off, and Farmers’ Markets are the new cool thing. But often and especially, what gets lost in the discussion is the less glamorous areas like wheat farming which supply most of what you eat on a daily basis. Here’s a few fun facts for you:
- 80% of wheat farms are family owned
- half the US wheat crop is used domestically
- one bushel of wheat contains about a million kernels, weighs 60 pounds and can produce 42 pounds of white flour (60 lbs of whole-wheat flour)
- Kansas in the largest producer in the US followed closely by North Dakota
- wheat is grown in 42 states in the US
A view about the wheat life cycle is below, and Erik also put up a nice post on how Family Farming is not Coporate Farming.
Solving life’s mysteries one pondering at a time
An inquisitive guy, I often find myself asking questions out loud like, “I wonder why it takes organic milk so much longer to sour than non-organic milk?” Every day or so, I’ll ask another question to Megan or someone around me (I have very patient friends). Well, I finally answered the organic milk mystery a few months ago, and I’ve got a wee list started of similar ponderables I plan to tackle over the next few weeks.
Today’s question: why do bees gather around the front of our car this time of year?
I’ll tackle this one in sections. First off, why this time of year? Well, late summer is the time queens leave the nest and mate (queen bees, that is). So all over Grand Forks you’ll see bees and wasps buzzing this time of year. Indeed, our favorite restaurant Rhombus Guys has a “sit on the roof at your own risk” type sign since there’s so many bees around these days — waiter Tony really enjoys killing them, though. Friends of ours who live downtown have a hole in the brick wall outside their window. The sight is amazing: hundreds of bees buzzing in and out of the hole inches from their window. There must be thousands in the wall. According to this article, they’re looking for mates and will seek out a wintering spot soon.
Ok, but why do bees hang near cars, and specifically, near the front of vehicles? I’ll be honest, this is a tough one. Internet research — usually so reliable — brought up many possibilities and dead ends. I feel most confident, however, that the reason doesn’t have to do with sap or dead bugs or pollen. Instead, I’m convinced by a few who have said the reason bees gather near the front of vehicles this time of year is because they are drawn to the smell of anti-freeze.
The anti-freeze explanation convinces me, because you can walk down a parking lot with cars of various sap or pollen levels, clean cars and dirty, buggy grills and shinny ones, and bees don’t seem to consistently swarm at any one of these factors. However, they certainly are attracted to something about some of the vehicles, and I propose that something is the sweet smell of antifreeze, which comes especially from the cars that are warmer and have been driven more recently.
Do I have any inside info or significant knowledge to backup my assertion? Absolutely not. It’s a semi-educated guess, so if you want to burst my bubble and have a better idea, please let me know. Until then, however, I’ll call this one of life’s mysteries solved. Case closed, bee happy.
image by kd kelly
Is Grand Forks the next Atlanta?
In the past ten years I’ve lived in a Florida town of 350,000 people, in the Atlanta area of 6 million plus, in a Scottish coastal town of 50,000, become quite familiar with the Twin Cities of 3 million, spent significant time in a Minnesota town of 1100, and now live in Grand Forks with about 50,000. In each place I’ve preferred neighborhoods that promote walking or biking, provide easy access to shopping and restaurants, and encourage relationships with my neighbors.
I enjoyed this video on suburban expansion versus the merits of in-town living. Sure, it’s PR, but it’s well done and points to an important issue, both environmental and social. Though it focused on Atlanta, I wonder now that I’m a Grand Forksian (is that right?), if Grand Forks can’t do more to address southward expansion. When I drive in the neighborhoods south of town I just feel, well, like I’m worshiping closed garages, viewing unsustainable expansion, and am more connected to pretty lawns than kind people. That’s probably not fair, as I haven’t actually lived out there, but my point is that Grand Forks would do better to improve downtown development than southward expansion.
If Grand Forks really wants to tackle North Dakota’s brain drain, leaders should fix downtown parking problems, fix up downtown living, address the loud and long trains, incentivize shops for groceries and every day products, and improve the bus system. This weekend’s arts festival was a great example of what Grand Forks can do and be. I hope leaders build on this success, emphasizing smart, sustainable, friendly community life.
Review: Brian McLaren’s “A New Kind of Christianity”
I’m a Brian McLaren fan. Not quite a fan boy, but an eager reader and admirer. So I when I got his newest book A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions that are Transforming the Faith (site here) I read it hoping to lead a book group discussion in my congregation. Though I enjoyed the book and recommend it overall, it didn’t fit the small church book group niche. And the more I think about it, I’m not actually sure it really breaks much new ground for me. McLaren is eloquent as usual (though a bit verbose at times), and I appreciate his perspective. Perhaps this is a case of unfair expectations — Minnesotans might call it “Joe Mauer syndrome” — but while I enjoyed the work, I finished wanting more.
The book is in ten parts, or ten questions. A few examples: What is the overarching story line of the Bible? Is God violent? What do we do about the church? Can we find a way to address human sexuality? How can we translate our quest into action?
McLaren believes the Christian faith is in the midst of a major overhaul. Perhaps every generation believes this, but I agree with McLaren that we are in a particularly transformative time. McLaren approaches his ten questions with a mix of his own intense and impressive Biblical exegesis and a grounding in what I would call the mainline progressive Biblical scholars. McLaren is one of these great authors that defies easy description. He’s a scholar for sure, but also an anti-establishment guy, an Evangelical who is excoriated by the right, a teacher and a pastor. Mostly, though, I think of McLaren as a communicator. He’s skilled at cutting through the rhetoric and getting his point across.
For instance, his chapter on the questions of the overarching storyline of the Bible does a splendid job of describing the problems of reading the Bible through the eyes of the Roman Empire and overly-simplified protestant theology. McLaren discusses the “six-line narrative” of Eden, Fall, Condemnation, Heaven, Salvation or Hell/Damnation and blows it out of the water as a faithful way to read the Bible. Quite right. But, to be honest, McLaren’s next chapter basically on what’s next, could basically be described as what I took from a center left Presbyterian seminary — the challenge to read the Bible on its own terms, the challenge to appreciate the non-literal intent of many of the writers and take them even more seriously “because they distill time-tested, multilayered wisdom — though deep mythic language — about how our world came to be what it has become (48). McLaren does a great job of expanding the Biblical approach he took as a young man, but to be honest, I don’t read his current approach as anything hugely new. Perhaps that’s because I’m only 27, so what McLaren is writing about is just sort of the water I’ve always drank.
Here’s a good snippet of what McLaren’s about:
Although few of us today are tempted to freeze our understanding of God in graven images, we may too quickly freeze our understanding in printed images, rigid conceptual ideals not chiseled in wood or stone but printed on paper in books, housed not in temples but in seminaries and denominational headquarters, worshiped not through ancient ceremonies and rituals but through contemporary sermons and songs (111).
McLaren’s big metaphors for the Bible that he uses in the work are the Bible as not a constitution, set and rigid with one meaning, but the Bible as community library where the community gathers its wisdom, discusses its future, centers its soul. Though I think some lawyers would quibble with his understanding of the constitution, the point is taken. The Bible is not and never has been about rigidity and simple “yes” and “no” directives, but it’s a book of books around which we gather, in which we rest and play, from which we live and serve.
McLaren concludes the book with a call to a final quest, the “quest to heal what we have so disastrously broken, the quest to unify and liberate what we’ve tragically divided and conquered, the quest to rediscover a larger more beautiful whole rather than pit part against part in deadly conflict” (232). This is not a small ball work, but a big honking call for a new kind of Christianity, heck a new kind of living and being with one another in creation. I’m all for it. I hope McLaren keeps the conversation going, for its the conversation on-going for practically all of my young adult life.
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