Transmission

Last night the Transmissioners went to see the new film “Of Gods and Men,” a French film that tells the true story of a monastery in Algeria that became caught in the middle of the country’s 1996 civil war.  The story centers on the relationships between the monks and the villagers, many of whom are Muslims, and the struggle for the monks to decide whether to stand their ground or flee to France as the violence of the war comes closer to them.

***SPOILERS*** In the end, the monks decide by consensus to stay, even though the signs of danger are growing everywhere around them.  And soon after their decision, most of them are rounded up and shot by a radical Islamic resistance group.  What impressed me about the monks most was their sense of acceptance in the end, when they decided to stay.  There was a sense of surrender, not necessarily out of helplessness but more out of certainty.  They did not want to die as martyrs, but they saw their life together in the monastery as the most important decision they’d ever made and were not willing to give it up.  As one monk said, “To leave is to die.”  And in the end, even when they decided to stay, they still tried to avoid getting caught by the militants.

   They didn’t stay becuase of duty, or any interest in being remembered as heroes.  They stayed because their love for each other and for God and their vows was ultimately all that was keeping them whole, and giving that up would mean giving up their identity.  

  What struck me most about the film last night in reflection was how utterly at odds the values of these monks were with the values we are being sold here in New York.  The values of profit, self-love above all other, self-service, total autonomy and independence.

   I’ve been working on a story about a group called “Underearners Anonymous” which basically teaches men how to correct the “character flaws” that keep them from maximing their profitability. And here these men took to a life of poverty to grows closer to God.

   I had a brief retreat last year to a Christian retreat center, but I found myself lonely.  And I have worked in charity serving meal at the BRC homeless shelter for the last few months, and I for the most part find it to be a bore.  And this film pointed out a missing essential in both those experiences: a sense of brotherhood.  There is no sense of a common love or bond with others for me at BRC: I’m the only volunteer for lunches. 

   I never had a brother.  I have a younger sister, but in some ways the feeling isn’t quite the same.  I have known what it’s like to feel part of a brotherhood, especially in sports teams, to have that camaraderie.  When I’ve been part of a team like that, the camaraderie has provided a sense of vigor and stealth, and the ability to combat difficult obstacles.  These days, I feel its absense acutely.  I feel I work alone and spend much of my leisure time alone.   I wonder what it would do for my faith to find myself back in some kind of brotherhood.

    Jesus spoke about each of us being his brothers and sisters as we followed him.  What an amazing world it would be if we truly lived that way, with that same kind of love.  I wonder how much braver we could be in a world like that.

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Last night, half a dozen Transmissioners gathered at Caleb’s place by Columbia to talk and wonder about time.  Caleb hosted us, while Katie made an excellent garlic soup and gooey glorious pie.

Last night’s Transmission was an eye-opener for me  and hopefully for the others there.  I wanted to talk about time, specifically how we think about time, how fast we think our lives are going by, how often we think about mortality or old age.  Amber Bennett suggested setting up an “Agree” and “Disagree” group for some statements that would give a general idea of our attitudes on time.  Where do you stand on some of these, agree or disagree?

“There are never enough hours in the day to do what I’m trying to do.”

“I’m balancing my time right, putting it towards the things I value most.”

“I have a 1, a 5 or a 10-year plan.”

“Life is what happens while we’re busy making other plans.”

“I fear dying before I get to where I want to be.”

“I’m still young.”

“I’ve written my will.”

“Time is money.”

Caleb noted that while most of the group disagreed with “I’m still young,” none of us had written our wills yet either.  I guess that makes us “middle-age”?

The theme came to me through a combination of things.  I tend to be very impatient and I’ve had times in my life when friends have died that have made me wonder “What if my life ended tomorrow?  What about all the things I haven’t done?”  That question could easily drive me to a panic if I thought about it enough, and even though I do believe in an afterlife, it doesn’t make the prospect of this life ending that much easier to take.

Nobody else in the group seemed to have had this same fear.  Elaine said she’s learned to not be afraid of dying before she gets to her goals in life, by just trying to live each day to the fullest.  If she can go to bed every night knowing that she’d lived that day to the best of her ability, she can relax about what may come next.

Elaine added though that this devotion to living the days has a downside, in that she tends to be impatient, as I am.

A new visitor to the group, Elizabeth, commented on that impatience with something her mother had told her: “Life is not made for ‘getting through.’  If all you’re doing is aiming to get through school, get through work and get through your day, what will you have gained when you come to the end?”

We then took on some of the biggest Biblical quotes around time.  EPHESIANS 5:

Live wisely…

“Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, ¹⁶making the most of  every opportunity, because the days are evil.”

Wait on God with patience from 2 PETER 3…

“With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness.”

The Apocalypse from 2 PETER 3…

“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief.   The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare.”

Relax, in spite of the coming apocalypse, from Luke…

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. ²³ For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. ²⁴ Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! ²⁵ Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life^?”

Kind of mixed messages.  As I said to the group, it seems sometimes that with the message of the imminent apocalypse mixed in, it feels like we’re being told that the plane we’re on is about to crash but that we should all sit back and enjoy the flight.

Christianity is a radical faith, as Sarah said last night, in its emphasis on being prepared for the apocalypse.  It’s hard to live the usual life of working hard, saving for the future, planning for your family, when you’re being told that the end is about to arrive.  Meanwhile, we’re also told not to worry about things that seem pretty commonsense to worry about: it’s hard to believe that God provides everything for all people when you look at the amount of despair and need amongst the poor of the world.  Worry seems like a necessary survival skill.

For me, it comes down to realizing that the things of this world are passing, that I cannot take whatever riches I make with me, and that worrying about things that I can’t control is totally fruitless.  What I can do is live the day as fully as possible, as Elaine said, as if it were my last day, but simultaneously plan for a future that may or may not happen.  A future that if it does happen, will be a gift, and not just another time to “get through.”

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Surely he taught us to love one another

His law is love and his gospel is peace

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I have two children – Thomas Jackson, soon turning four, and Sarah Connor Snodgrass, who just turned two. Last Christmas, Jackson was just about to turn three. He likely did not notice that the days had been getting shorter, and had just begun to get longer. Jackson did not know about the fall of humanity, and the savior God sent to get people on the rise again. Jackson didn’t even know about Santa Claus!

But one day he woke up and the whole world had changed. The house was full of relatives who’d traveled far to shower him with food, warmth, familial love and gifts. Gifts! On this day of all days, even his dad couldn’t get on his case (not with all those relatives around)! Well, Christmas passed, the relatives went home, the leftovers dwindled, the toys and clothes got toddlerized, and my son slipped into something of a melancholy. He started saying things, nonsense syllables strung together, but with that one word somewhere in there. BAH-ba-Blah-da-BLAH-blah-Christmas.”

And I realized…he was trying to remind me of something that he thought I’d forgotten. To Jackson, Christmas had not been one day of celebration, but a drastic re-structuring of society in which all energy would from henceforth be focused on lavishing food, love, warmth and gifts upon him. He thought Christmas was a revolution, and that nothing could ever be the same. But then the revolution was over, forgotten, and everybody just went on as if nothing had happened.

At the time, I’ll admit, I enjoyed this. You know, children are the most expensive form of free entertainment on Earth, so you take what you can get. And I was quietly amused, thinking “yeah, kid, just wait till you’re my age, and the most colorful thing you get for Christmas is wrapping paper, with the same gray thermal shirt I get every year.” But, as I’ve continued to think about it…maybe he was right, maybe I was wrong. Maybe that’s what Christmas SHOULD be, a drastic restructuring of society in which all energy is focused on giving food, warmth, love and gifts to children.

I study the Bible all the time, I have a Masters Degree in it, but somehow I think this three-year-old understood Christmas better than I do. The Gospel authors didn’t think of the birth of Jesus as a yearly festival of over-eating, credit cards and traffic jams… Well, traffic jam, yes, with all the descendants of David (and Solomon!) showing up in Bethlehem… But the Gospel authors really thought…after the coming of Jesus…nothing could ever be the same.

Posted by: j. Snodgrass | Tags: Christmas | No Comments »

I spoke with someone recently about their imminent visit with their family this coming Christmas. They were not looking forward to it, drawing up both present drama and remembering past grievances revolving around them all. Also a state of pity hung about them, confessing that visiting the family for Christmas was rather depressing.

Another person earlier in the week spoke to me about their Christmas plans with their family. This person went through some troubling times with family, but over a period of decades the situation got better and respectful. There’s not much undercurrent of resentment or residual spite leftover, or at least not enough to overshadow a celebration. Yet they still find the time wholly stressful, and find themselves depressed after watching too many christmas family movies that depicts a slice of what many people fear around Christmastime.

What is so stressful about Christmas? Perhaps there’s more to it than just the overenthusiastic commercialization vulture squads.

Perhaps just spending time with those that are closest to us, that know us the best are stressful enough. It reminds us where we come from, no matter how we wish to pretend otherwise, it reminds us what we have, and perhaps depressingly, what we lack, and it shows us the parts of who we are that we don’t let others see and like to believe aren’t there. But Family won’t really let us.

How stressful the very first Christmas must have been for the divine family. Poor mary, having to travel so much in a crowded city and forced to give birth (while still a virgin!) in a pile of dirty hay in a rock outcove adapted for domestic animals, and meanwhile travellers from all over are peering in to witness a “King,” not knowing really what all this entails.

Poor Joseph, dutifully providing for a young woman and a son of questionable origin, and knowing that there will be subtle contempt toward the family for it, and having to lead the family from the sword of a madman puppet king.

How vulnerable the family must have been.

But I know not a  genuine love without vulnerability. How fortunate that we are vulnerable to our beloved family, as opposed to a stranger.

Remember, keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your family closest

Merry Christmas. Amen

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I wrote last week rejecting Advent’s principle of waiting on the Lord.  To me, the Lord is already ever-present in us through the Holy Spirit and the gifts of Pentecost, and Advent seems to make it seem that Christ remains this ethereal exterior being rather than dwelling within us.

However, I have found that there is something to this waiting thing.  In being challenged to think about waiting, I have been reminded of how impatient I can be, and how out of sync my sense of time is with that of God.

It happened this morning on a downtown subway platform.  I arrived and like everyone else looked for the train at the end of the tunnel.  Nothing.  An uptown train passed by on the other side.  Still nothing.  Another uptown.  No lights.  And then a THIRD uptown train.  FINALLY, there appeared some lights at the tunnel.  And by then, I was fuming.  I had plans to fit in some holiday shopping before work, and I wouldn’t be able to fit it in.  How could the trains be so inefficient?

Then a memory: Ecuador 1999.  I’m waiting for a bus in Quito, and there’s no bus schedule to be found.  I ask one of the men waiting for the bus when the bus is supposed to come.  He shrugs his shoulders and responds, “It’ll come when it comes.”  He had no expectations, but he was hopeful.

The man’s nonchalance was such a change from my New York City sense of time, laden with expectations of efficiency for the train, the show, the line, the drinks, the dinner, the check, the website, the download.   By my clock, those minutes waiting feel like ages.

But there’s another clock that I’ve totally forgotten about- God’s clock.  This is the pace at which canyons and continents are made,  the speed that stalactites form and planets mature.  It is a way of time that I completely forget about here, where starlight is all but gone, and nature is contained and contoured to our liking in city parks.  On God’s clock, as Peter wrote, “a thousand years is as one day.”

When I become aware of this clock, of this pace, I suddenly realize how ridiculous my impatience is, like an ant marching in a fever.  The train will come in its time, as all things do.  And I can wait.

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A bonus video for your viewing pleasure. What was that that Jesus said about the poor? Oh right…

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Incarnation and what it means that Christ was fully human and fully divine.  I’ve been thinking about what it means for me to be an Incarnate being – a creature of flesh and sinew and sensation.

You see, I’m one of those privileged people who gets to think for a living. I write text, I compose music, I preach, I teach, I organize activities, etc. Obviously, the vast majority of the human species, throughout time, has not lived this way, but I do.

The Kingdom of God, however, cannot be conceived by thought alone. If it were, then the divine logos, the Word of God, could have been revealed to us as a book, or a poem, or an idea. It could have been a formula or a creed or a doctrinal statement. It could have been an argument.

The Word of God, however, is none of these things; the Word of God is an infant, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. The Word of God was revealed to us as a person who got calluses on his hands, who had animated dinner conversations, and who drank excellent wine at weddings. The Word of God became flesh and dwelt among us.

It’s so tempting to reduce Christianity to a religion of ideas and to equate Christian formation with theological study. It’s so easy to say that the soul is sacred and the flesh is profane, that white-collar work is more respectable than blue-collar work, and that it’s what’s on the inside that really matters. To do so, however, is to deny the miracle of the Incarnation.

That’s what I’ve been doing. For the last year or so, I’ve been slowly gaining weight, eating food on the run, and generally treating my body as an inconvenience.  This, too, denies the miracle of the Incarnation.

My Advent discipline was to watch for the places where Christ is breaking into the world. My Christmas discipline is going to be fully inhabiting my body, living in the flesh as an act of prayer.

I invite you to join me. Go for a hike. Eat a fantastic meal. Look at something beautiful. Give someone a back rub. Play with your dog. Have an incredible make out session. Build something with your hands. Stretch. Cook. Run.

Live.

Posted by: Isaac | Tags: advent | No Comments »

I love Westerns. Actually I can’t stand watching them – I get really anxious because people are so vulnerable, life is so precarious, and the guys holding the guns tend to be so cold. I worry about the women and children. But I make myself watch one or two Westerns a month – like a penance. Because I teach the Bible, and I need to remind myself constantly that these stories do not take place in my own place and time.

Open the Bible to any page, and people are vulnerable, life is precarious, and the guys holding the whips and the weapons, chains and chariots and the nails tend to be so cold.

I got interested in Westerns while I was in seminary. My wife Elizabeth told me that, when in college, she’d taught a class on apocalyptic movies. Well I love apocalyptic movies! I love dystopias! What could she recommend? And she told me, most of the films she’d used were old Westerns. …What? But those take place in the past. And she said ‘well, it’s the future too.’ European culture tried to expand eastward, but it hit a wall…of Eastern culture. So it expanded west. And it went – it stretched itself as far and as thin as it could go, all the way to the California coast, and it could go no farther. But it was stretched too thin, so it crawled back again. And the wave left ghost-towns in its wake, dying outposts of European culture, populated with people who, for one reason or another, couldn’t go back. Women in last year’s Parisian dresses, now caked with dust, scars on their faces. Men in tattered three-piece suits, trying to maintain civilization in cheaply-built towns that look like a strong wind could knock them over. People basically waiting to die, because civilization has no future.
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Posted by: j. Snodgrass | Tags: bible study | No Comments »

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel. (Isaiah 7:14)

I looked at this lectionary this morning and immediately thought, What kind of sign is this? Young women get pregnant and have kids all the time. As for naming him Immanuel, people often look at their life experiences and see them as being evidence that God is with them or is not with them. Take a look at postcards 13 and 14 from the postsecret project. So really, is this a sign of any import? And then, as they say in teacher parlance, I made a text-to-self connection. (Or maybe it was text-to-world?)

In 2001, I went to Cuba with a group from my college to study Cuban music and dance. As part of a final research project, I interviewed a woman in her twenties to gather her impressions about relationships between men and women. She insisted that we have the conversation outside, for fear that someone would overhear her or that our conversation might be recorded. So we talked quietly about relationships and her own hopes and fears. She told me that she did not want to get married. She never wanted to have children. None of her friends were married, and none of them wanted to be. She told me that it was so difficult to make a living, to live in a decent place, and to have enough to eat, that none of them wanted to bring a child into the life and world that they inhabited. In that community and in that society, if the young woman is with child, it is a sign of hope for the future. It is a sign of courage to give your child over to a world that you trust will be better than your own.

And yet, I look at the community in the Bronx where I teach high school and it seems like such a different situation. Last year, I personally knew of 5 girls who were pregnant in our school of 350 students, and there were probably many more than that all told. To me, these young women with child look like a sign of despair. They seem to speak of women who believe that there will be no opportunities for them after high school, that their only value is in their bodies and their ability to have children.

The young woman is with child. Is this a sign of hope or despair? How do we interpret this sign in our times?

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