It's a beauty.

If we are truly truth tellers we will speak of beauty with as much alacrity as we speak of injustice. What is the use in tearing down broken-relationship if we ourselves are illiterate in right-relationship?

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I hope.

Without hope to pull it forward, holy discontent will turn poisonously in on itself morphing slowly to useless angry cynicism. The danger, at the prophetic edge, is in engendering a hope which arises from the thing hoped for—which cannot be sustained. Rather, hope must be engendered through a loving relationship with the one in whom we hope. We must encourage each other to hope for hope makes possible the prophetic words of holy discontent, we surely do not need more hopeless, useless, angry cynicism.

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Home

"Art is always transgressive. What I always say is we need to transgress in love. We today have a language to celebrate waywardness, but we do not have a language, a cultural language to bring people back home." Makoto Fujimura

 

Words that come out of out of Mako Fujimura are almost always inspiring and/or profound. This is a great little video that might centre your day.

 

Fujimura - 4 Holy Gospels from Crossway on Vimeo.

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Knee deep in CSS

I haven't posted in a while, sorry about that. I've been working on the  Arts & Language Club website. I'm knee deep in CSS, CMS, HTML, PHP, MySQL and PNGs. My brain hurts and I'm still not done. I'm sure web wizards would finish in hours what's taken me days.

I'm going to flake out and post another video, but it's kind of a special one. (Thanks Barry for passing it on.) You may have heard that Benoit Mandelbrot, the mathematician who discovered/invented/studied "regular roughness" or "fractals, died last week at the age of 85. Now I'm not a mathematician by any stretch of the imagination—I don't think I could pass grade 11 math right now if my life depended on it—but Mandelbrot is still special to me. Way back in *cough, cough* 1987 I read a book called "Chaos; Making A New Science," by James Gleick. It was all about chaos theory and Mandelbrot is pivotal in world of chaos theory.

The book was astonishing to me. This notion of astounding complexity coming from stark simplicity was exciting and invigorating. I loved the book, I loved the excitement of inquiry and learning that welled up in me, which was no small thing. About the only thing my high school diploma had left me with was a grey and whithered imagination, it had bled the joy of learning from me. This book came at a time when, and perhaps was the first step toward, regaining the joy of learning. It was a hugely important transition in my life. A year later I started a Fine Arts Degree and the rest, as they say, is history.

The Mandelbrot set is the lasting iconic image of that book, that time, that awakening. Thank you Dr. Mandelbrot for your work.

So here's the video, it's Dr. Mandelbrot giving a TED talk in February of this year. Enjoy:

 

 

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Are you an artist? Do you need a hug?

Here you go, a virtual hug from Dr. Cornel West. Lay down your burden for a moment and listen to these beautiful words. Just 6 minutes and then you can get back to work, restorative powers guaranteed.

 

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:) and :(

Stephen is playing at Mosaic :)

It's Jule's last Mosaic before she moves to Paris :(

Sent from my iPhone

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Feeling down? Step into heaven for a bit...

Ben was watching this and I asked, "Where is this?" and he said, "Heaven?" Here it is, Baptists burning it up, Wendell Lowe on the organ:

 

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Why?

http://bit.ly/9o8F9Q. Anyone feeling the need to cook, sew, walk, bike, teach, plant or build? My friend Claudio Oliver has a great post as to why that might be, worth a read.

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This might get loud.

I recently realized how important it is to learn a language in context, in a living breathing world.

My friend Arno and I learned some new adjectives in our Japanese lessons. The word for "noisy" is urusai (うるさい). I was having the hardest time with that word, it just wasn't sticking for me, I kept forgetting it. Arno, however, had no trouble remembering it. I was learning the word in a separate-from-real-life context sitting at a dining room table at Arno's house, and primarily as words on a page. He had learned the word in the real world, in context, and as spoken sound.

Arno's wife is Japanese and he remembers being beside a van that was exceptionally loud. His wife said, "Urusai!" No one had to tell him what "urusai" meant even though it was a word he hadn't heard before. By virtue of context it was obvious "urusai" meant unpleasantly loud, noisy. So, when it the word came up in our lessons he had no trouble remembering it.

All of the embodied details of that scene―the yellow van, the red lighting bolt painted on the side, the rust around the wheels, the sunshine, the busy street, the stop light, the faint smell of gasoline and asphalt, the hands over the ears, the furrowed brow, the squinting eyes, the air moved by sound waves hitting ear drums (I'm making it all up, but you get my drift)―all of it brings urusai to life. The living breathing world is the primary habitat for words, printed pages just make them portable.

I wonder to what extent the Bible has become words on a page, and to what extent the words are looked at only in separate-from-real-life contexts. I wonder how much more the words would live and breathe if they were learned (lived?) in their primary habitat, the real world, in context, face to face, rather than in the safe and sterile confines of a once-a-week church building, and as rational rhetorical propositions lying flat on a page.

The pernicious thing about learning Japanese adjectives sitting around a dining room table is that I could start imagining "urusai" means what ever I think it means. In that separate-from-real-life context I could twist it around and add all kinds of inflections. As a rational proposition lying flat on a page the word "urusai" is malleable and pliable to whatever distortions I might apply to it. I could start to think "urusai" primarily means "annoying van." I could lose the sense of noisiness and loudness and become convinced "urusai" meant annoying van. As long as I didn't use the word in the real world, as long as it isn't a living breathing word, no one would be the wiser. No one would correct me, least of all myself. If I kept it up long enough I could start to believe the way I used "urusai" in my artificial context was the "right" way to use "urusai." I could become so convinced of the rightness of my version of "urusai" that I could go to Tokyo and see a van parked in handicapped parking spot, and I could say "urusai," thinking it was an annoying van because it was parked in a handicap spot. My Japanese speaking friends would say, "I don't think that word means what you think it means." If I had been thinking in my own separate-from-real-life way for long enough I might actually think they're wrong and I'm right.

 

I thought of all of this when I heard a preacher the other day. (I saw it online, so it could be virtually anyone in case you're getting nervous.) I was going to go into particulars, but I think that just ends up sounding whiny and disingenuous. Besides, it isn't about a collection of facts to prove a point.

Here's the thing, I often feel like a jittery little forest animal that senses danger, like a forest fire or an earth quake. I think getting jittery over potential danger is one of the roles of the poetic voice within the church. [and in our world at large, but that's another discussion.] It isn't necessarily a condemning voice and it certainly isn't a voice of delineated facts. It's a voice that offers, provisionally and in humility, what it sees and senses for the sake of all the other forest animals. It's a voice that says, "I'm starting to notice something, I'm not even sure what it is or if I can explain it but I can't dismiss it, is it something we should be paying attention to?" 

Is this something we should be paying attention to: I couldn't help but think this preacher had been safely employed in his separate-from--real-life context for a very long time. His worth and identity are wrapped up in his determining and cleverly communicating, in this safe separate-from-the-real-world context, his particular version of flat words on a page which, after time, could lead to mild delusion. I found myself saying, "I don't think that word means what he thinks it means."

I couldn't help but wonder, is well communicated smug pop psychology on a Sunday morning the best we can hope for? Is "love" primarily talking about love and giving examples of what love might look like in the real world? When is "love" primarily just being love in the real world?  If we can gather to talk about it, should we be gathering to be it?

Is "joy" primarily singing songs in our own buildings once a week where it's controllable and safe? When is "joy" just being joyful in the real world where we might be vulnerable? If we do think joy is primarily being joyful in the real world, do our physical and organizational structures, the way we do things, bear evidence of that? [I tend to think our structures say talking about things is the most important thing, which can tacitly uphold the idea that things that can be effectively talked about are the most important things.]

When is "peace" simply peace in the real world and not an interesting but naive notion we talk about? Is gathering together to talk about peace the best we can hope for? Or should we be gathering together to make peace? What would that look like? Maybe we should be making peace and then gathering together to talk about our making peace. But that would require everyone talking, and about actual things that actualy happened; not one person talking about what should happen while assuming it likely won't.

These are things this jittery little forest creature wonders about.

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Untitled

Really, really enjoying Diana Butler Bass's book "A People's HIstory of Christianity."

Have a look at TWOTP films with Diana Butler Bass. This one pairs nicely with the quote below.

The story of Christianity most familiar to us is the "Big-C" version; Christ, Constantine, Christendom, Calvin and Christian America, which, she adds, is a militant Christianity.

"...it is a theological disposition that interprets Christianity as an us-against-them morality tale of a suffering church that is vindicated by God through its global victory over other worldviews, religions, or political systems."

This version of Christianity produces a sort of spiritual amnesia. There is so much more to the story of Christianity that isn't part of the "Big-C" version. The title of her book is a reference to "A People's History of the United States" by Howard Zinn. By "a people's history" he meant a history which intentionally followed lesser known figures, smaller untold stories that needed telling. Bass adopts this same trajectory, telling a "people's history" of Christianity, lesser know stories (at least lesser known to those most familiar with "Big-C" Christianity) that need telling in an attempt to cure spiritual amnesia.

Here's a good quote within a quote:

"...the desert fathers and mothers believed that prayer was a disposition of wholeness, so that 'prayer and our life must be all of a piece.' They approached prayer, as early church scholar Roberta Bondi notes, as a practical twofold process: first, of 'thinking and reflecting,' or 'pondering' what it means to love others; and second, as the "development and practice of loving ways of being."

For a big chunk of my life I felt a combination of guilt and shame at not being very good at sitting-in-a-quiet-place-eyes-closed-praying. Had I known about the desert fathers and mothers, I might have realized the pondering that comes so naturally to me was indeed one half of the twofold process of praying. Like most artists, I think the pondering part comes naturally. Developing and practicing loving ways of being, now that might not come quite as naturally, but at least I have a hope of working towards it when I don't write myself off as a daydreaming ne'er-do-well.

 

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Weaving

<p>Weaving silk using a mitochondrial sequence from Gabriel Harp on Vimeo.</p>

This video is from an article I found called "Weaving Haplotypes" It's pretty cool if you're willing to wade through it. The short version is someone is weaving silk using DNA sequencing to determine the colour pattern.

That got me thinking about this:

As we rest collectively in what it means to be children of God, we understand more fully what we are to do collectively as children of God; as we rest individually in what it means to be a child of God, we understand more fully what we are to do individually as children of God.

Conversely and with equal importance: as we do collectively what it is we have come to understand children of God do, we understand more fully what it means to be collectively children of God; as we do individually what it is we have come to understand a child of God does, we understand more fully what it means to be individually a child of God.

Resting in identity and doing calling are intimately entwined in both communities and individuals. These four strands, when woven by the Spirit, create a tapestry of stories stronger than steel and more beautiful than the best mere human hands could offer.

 

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Sky blue sky is sky blue.

Ben has a job for the summer, so every Tuesday and Thursday I drive him over to North Vancouver. I'm going to miss those drives. Every time we head out Ben plugs in his iPod and starts Sky Blue Sky, so we have a fairly consistent sound track for our drives to North Van. Somewhere close to the Lions Gate Bridge is when we get to "Please Be Patient With Me," one of my all time favorite songs. Can there be anything better than a beautiful morning drive with your son? The sun is up, the windows are down, we're enjoying one of the most beautiful views in the world and we're listening to Wilco. Sacred times.

Our trips are usually pretty quiet. We're guys. Plus we're listening to Wilco. I sometimes wonder how I'm doing; you know, with the whole father thing. Maybe I should talk more, say more stuff, try to be wise and whatnot. I sometimes wonder, of all the conversations, phone calls, iChats, discussions, arguments, sermons, lectures, laughter and tears Ben overhears—what sticks? What does he notice? What does he think of all the blah blah blah going on around him? As I say, we're often pretty quiet, so sometimes I'm not sure, that's why I'm wondering if I should talk more, find out what's going on. Well, yesterday he showed me a poem he wrote. I guess the blah blah blah-ing can't be all bad. Here it is: [he gave me permission to post this]

To The Man At The Door

Am I not welcome?
How can this be?
I think you've got things wrong
because I'm a son
no less than you or the next man
And no greater than the
one on the street

Tell me now
what would Jesus do
If you were him
and I was you?

You know, I get it now
a mosaic doesn't fit in
your square picture frame
if it did, not all of the pieces
would be welcome

In your square slot
there's no room to dance
or move at all

So tell me door man
is the shape of my tile
not suited to your slot?

If not, don't worry
I know a place down the road
they will have a spot for me
in their mosaic
and they won't think twice
before bringing me in

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:)

Sent from my iPhone

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I think I have diorama.

See and download the full gallery on posterous

What is it about these dioramas that's so engaging? We found them in the Royal Saskatchewan Museum and I could have taken pictures of them all day.

Nostalgia? The museum has that mid 60's Canadian institutional building vibe, an attempt to be "modern" in a reserved and dignified way that now seems quaint. A lot like the schools I attended. Was I just nostalgic for school days?

There's also something engaging about miniatures in and of themselves, and these ones are well done. The paintings behind the little figures were wonderful. In the photos the two dimensional paintings and the three dimensional figures merge more convincingly that in real life. Maybe that was it.

Maybe it's the sense of control, a photographers dream, reality frozen for me to shoot at will.

What do dioramas say about us? About our way of understanding and learning? Who gets to say what's in the diorama and what it looks like? Are we more likely to believe this presentation of reality to be true because a compelling plausible representation of the offered reality has been brought into the world? Is it different that the plausible reality has been constructed in three dimensions and in miniature rather than having been constructed of words and in imagination?

I have to say I found the little tableaux of aboriginal people kind of weird. How was the god-like power of the person building this little scene wielded? Naively? Sensitively? Well intentioned but awkwardly? Via guesses or intimate knowledge? Who were they? Aboriginal? Caucasian? Does it matter what colour their skin was? Where they on the payroll? Were they censored? If so by whom? Did they have a backbone? What trust do I unwittingly place in the hands of a "museum" simply because it's a museum? Is that trust warranted? Is every museum different?

Are Sunday morning services like these dioramas? Little stage plays we control with our god-like power, freezing our proffered picture of reality for one day a week so we can photograph it in memory and return to it later with nostalgic feelings? If they are—and maybe they aren't—what trust do I unwittingly place in the hands of "church" simply because it's a church. Should I trust the hands which curate the Sunday morning dioramas? Or is it unfair to call what happens on Sunday morning a diorama?

p.s. I'm particularly fond of the moose.

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Oh, for the grace of my elders.

See the full gallery on posterous

My Mom put together a book about her childhood growing up on the prairies. Had to share this little excerpt because it's my Mom and it's awesome. 

"We skated every day. Sonja Henjie was famous then and I would try to soar along with one leg held out behind me, just like she did. We skated singly, in pairs and sometimes in a long line of people for crack-the-whip. Time alone on the ice at night was very special. Often the northern lights were dancing with color and if there was a full moon it seemed perfect…I didn’t have figure skates, just ordinary straight-blade hockey skates like the boys. When my feet stopped growing I got second-hand men’s skates which I used until I couldn’t skate anymore. 

The last time I tried to skate was in 2004. My ankles were weak and I didn’t have a helmet so I didn’t venture far. A chapter in my life was closed and I felt a bit sad, but in my imagination I can still soar around the ice, free as the wind! When we moved to Regina I took a picture of them and let them go."

 

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When I was your age...

See and download the full gallery on posterous

I'm in Regina Saskatchewan (Paris of the Prairies) for a family reunion of sorts. We piled into a school bus my sister Heather rented from the company she drives for and took a trip out to Southey where my Mom grew up.

The second picture is one of those famous prairie grain elevators. Southey is really small, but they have a grain elevator and a hockey rink.

The last picture is the house my Mom grew up in. Nine kids! The attic space served as the second floor and the bedroom space for all the kids, 4 boys on one side and 5 girls on the other. Different times my friends.

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Theology through flamenco

My friend Constance Chan danced her Master's thesis at Regent recently, "Nails in the Soles of My Shoes." This gives me hope for the church.

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More than words

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I remember this image and the Benetton ad. But as the commentary suggests, the rest of the photos got lost in the controversy. The whole photo essay is worth getting through. (Have some tissues handy)

I think part of the reason these images are so powerful is Bill Kirby's everyman-ness. Just by looking at him I can guess how he grew up, what he valued, his manner of speech. And then I can imagine how all of that is either burned away or caught up in the flame of human caring, a father's love for his son.

Slide 14. If that isn't an image of simple frail humanity being the hands and feet of Jesus I don't know what is. Two men who shouldn't even know each other, let alone love each other. What can it be other than love? Father and adopted son.

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Narthex Warz

///// Okay, this started as a comment on the last post and then just became a whole new post. Here goes, it's a long one with geeky medieval architecture stuff, but its good geeky /////

Yes, Paule, that's why I was wondering about this particular narthex. Just to clarify, I wasn't out of hand dissing this narthex. I'm sure the architects thought about why things are the way they are and there's good reasons for all of those things being the way they are. What I'm wondering is what connection does it have to gothic architecture, or should? or could it?

In gothic cathedrals EVERYTHING meant something. Cathedrals existed in a preliterate culture, so the whole building was a reminder of faith and community and was usually literally at the center of the community. They were usually surrounded (like right up against the walls) by shop stalls, just a whole jumble of commerce and business and life going on. To enter the church, to cross the threshold of the church, was to leave one world and enter heaven on earth. At least that was the intent of the architects, especially high gothic. It's all about creating transcendent space. Which kind of makes sense when for your average surf life was mostly mud and dirt and physical labour. The church was a physical reminder of a reality that was pretty hard for your average surf to remember really existed. 

So a narthex, as you pointed out, is at the end of the nave. It was the threshold, the transition from the cares and hard labour of life into the cares and concerns of heaven. The narthex was the first step in conscious intentional movement. Congregants entered the cathedral from the west and moved toward the east, the direction of hope, the direction from which the sun rises. The west doors usually had intricate stone sculptures depicting various biblical stories, often with Jesus at the centre. Sort of a non-textual lesson on the tenets of the faith. They moved through the narthex to the nave, through the whole length of the nave, usually emblazoned with stained glass depictions of biblical stories, more preliterate non-textual lessons, kind of the first graphic novels ever.  Then finally to the far east of the building to the alter, where holy communion was partaken of. The church may have observed regular mass, but for the live blood of the church was a parish model. The church was always open, always a open part of life at any time for this kind of pilgrimage from west to east, out of the cares of the world and into holy communion, from the desperation to the hope of communion at the table with Jesus. 

The nave takes its basic shape from the basilicas of Rome. Basilicas are basically big rectangular buildings and the basic model for most Roman public buildings. (This was the Roman Catholic Church building these things.) But the great ecclesiastical invention was the introduction of the "transept." Basically that cross piece that runs perpendicular to the nave. The transept opens up this amazing space just before the alter and ambulatory. And the transept gives the floor plan of the cathedral a cruciform shape. So if you look at the building from the air it looks like a giant cross.

All of this stuff was incredibly important and symbolic and thought out and developed over centuries. 

Back to the Church of the Resurrection narthex. It obviously doesn't serve the same transitional function as a medieval narthex. But it does serve some kind of transitional function. Oddly, I haven't yet entered Church of the Resurrection via the "main" doors that lead into the church. (Hmmm... maybe that's a good metaphor for people stepping into God's kingdom from places we might not expect.) So, what function does this narthex serve? What does it say about us and our culture, good and bad. (Don't get me wrong, I have no illusions about medieval times and there was a whole lot of bad in with the neat good stuff.) So, good and bad, what does this narthex say about how we do church here and now? (Not pointing fingers at Church of the Resurrection, by "we" I mean we in the Western tradition engaged in church-as-we-know-it.

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That's not a narthex...

...this is a narthex. Yes, I used the word narthex because that's the term they use here at the United Methodist Church of the Ressurection where the National Worship Leaders Conference is being held. So what does this space have to do with gothic cathedrals, cruciform basilicas and the historical notion of narthex? And, discuss.

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Yep, that's a sunrise

Off to Kansas City for the National Worship Leaders Conference where I'm doing a couple of workshops. Up at 3:30 and sitting at the gate by 5:45. Had a great customs and immigration officer this time, which, for me, is something. I usually get the feeling they just don't believe me but let in anyway. The officer and I chatted about books, which was awesome. Then to top off what, for a travel day, had turned out to be a pretty good morning, I saw this glorious sun rise. There's something about that first sliver of sun peeking over the mountains. Even if you aren't in particular need of some it's still hope. Morning's here.

Sent from my iPhone

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Immeasurably More

with Mako Fujimura. Yes, that Mako Fujimura, the artist from New York who totally rocks. (google him) Just found out about this and scurried over. Todd Fadel is here, looking forward to some conversation after. Right now Dal Schindel is talking about Chartres cathedral. I'm art geek heaven.

Sent from my iPhone

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Pan-Asian Awesomeness

Dinner last night reminded me of how fortunate I am. I made Japanese yakisoba, Chinese pot stickers and topped it off with Thai spring roll sauce. It was pan-Asian awesomeness.

Choji, the guy who's teaching me Japanese and who speaks 4 languages, was saying he likes learning new languages because it gives him a chance to discover a different version of himself. What a great way to look at things. By learning another language I get a fuller rounder version of myself. 

And maybe literally rounder (at least my waistline) because one of the tangible ways I expand my life is by tasting from the cultural cornucopia of food of offer, especially in a diverse city like Vancouver. 

Even better though, my expanding life isn't limited to internal initiative, the things I learn or try, like languages or food. I'm not just myself, I am, in a real sense, the friends around me. So I am expanded externally as my friends share their lives with me.  

So my friend Ed told me (gave me, offered to me, it's giving language) his mother's secret for making perfect pot stickers. Now that part of Ed is part of me. My life is expanded because of Ed's gift. I can do the same for him. I can share my recipe for yakisoba, which is a part of me because it is a part of my Japanese friends. It's the opposite of a zero sum game. By giving away we all get more. 

It's a tangible visible sign of an invisible truth. My life is expanded in all kinds of invisible ways through my friendship with Ed. Just like the post stickers, some of those things happen to come from his Chinese heritage. So, fortunate for me that Ed's heritage is different from mine. 

As my life is expanded by my friends around me, I realize I am so blessed to have so many friends from such diverse backgrounds. The more difference there is among us the more we all get from each other. And my yakisoba reminded me of that. 

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Love My New Skillet

No this isn't a metaphor, I just love my new skillet. Lindi and Ben gave me a new 13" stainless steel French skillet for my birthday a while back. I just want to say it rocks. That is all. 

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Canada Unhinged

Okay, this video is really long, but we're a big country. Non-Canadians, I invite you into our joy.

Things I love about this video: the guy in the foreground wearing a white turban with a red maple leaf dancing like a crazy person at a hockey goal; the little toddler standing in the middle of the shot wondering what's going on; that whether it's two people or 20,000 it's all pretty much the same; that Canadians actually became unhinged.

Well, okay, now we're burning police cars in the streets of Toronto so clearly, now that we've unlocked our inner crazy, we need some kind of throttle on our unhingedness. But still, we became unhinged, isn't that a mildly encouraging sign?

And what is it about this video that strikes at something deep in me? Not as a Canadian, but as a human being. There's something powerful in collective joy. Watch the video again, but this time imagine it's the global celebration that will happen when we all finally realize love wins.

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Unless

"In a time of drastic change it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned usually find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists."
~ Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

"I'm telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God's kingdom. What's more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it's the same as receiving me. ~ Matthew 18:2-5 (The Message)

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Belated Father's Day

Father's Day was good to me, as seen above.

The belated part relates to posting the picture just today. I had some iOS4 issues and I couldn't attach the picture to an email, nor could I get it off my phone. Urgh. And, to top it off my favorite app wasn't working. All resolved now though, so let the hip picture taking resume. PS The Laphroaig is VERY good.

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Art creates space to ponder

[[posterous-content:pid___0]]

"If we think at all about the church, it is historically and intrinsically an artistic operation. It always struck me in the little rural church where I grew up that no matter how flat and unimaginative and prosaic the life of the village was, we had that organ music on Sunday morning. And what the organ music did was to create space for us to ponder the stuff that didn't fit the formulae. And, by and large, the language of the church and the language of liturgy is essentially artistic language. We flattened it. So the work, it seems to me, first of all, is to help people see what has been entrusted to us is artistic from the bottom up. If people are caught in dogmatism or in moralism they tend not to notice how incredibly artistic it all is."  ~Walter Brueggemann

Heard these words again this morning. It's a little self serving, but the quote comes from a TWOTP interview we did with Walter last year. You can find the video on our site for context.

I had to put this up because I've been speaking lately about creative expression being central to God's people being God's people. After a while one begins to doubt one's own words. Is it really? Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe I'm way off base. And then I hear the words above and I realize being an advocate for artists and the arts means being an advocate for that which is entrusted to us. Suddenly being an advocate for the arts seems mildly terrifying, but it's a holy terror.

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Black and White

Just before starting the class this morning I discovered, of all things, a gallery just down the hall that had mounted a Chagall exhibit, with intaglio prints none the less! I was short on time and had to rush through, but above is a shot of "Jeremiah in the Well." The picture loses the subtlety, but I had to put it up. My brother Jeremiah, the writer-performance-artist-prophet, is an important example to me of an artist's life well lived.  This print adds to my understanding. I'm so glad I got to see it in person. 

 

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Good bye Albuquerque

Taught the second and last "Toward a Theology of Visual Media" class today. We were small in number but big on passion. Thanks everyone who contributed stories and insight.

Off to the airport right away where I sit now. I'm going to miss: good friends, good conversation, good food, the sun, the warmth, the heat, saying the word Albuquerque.

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Washroom? You mean "restroom?"

Have you ever been to an English speaking country that uses slightly different words here and there and the people from that country feel the need to "correct" your word usage? For example I asked, "Can you tell me where the washroom is?" The response was, "You mean 'restroom?' Yes, it's right over there." I said, "I'm from Canada, we say 'washroom.' "Well, you're not going to 'wash' in there are you?" "Well, I'm not going to 'rest' in there either." 

It seems a fairly common human trait to think our perspective is the right perspective, and therefore measure other perspectives against our own. When we do so we tend to not notice the ways in which our perspective is also askew. If we are correct we are alone in our correctness. If we are able, even falteringly, to move away from needing to be correct, and move toward seeing our perspective as one among many common to our humanity gains us a brotherhood of mutual difference. In that move we gain the whole world.

Maybe too much to get from a washroom? Such are my thoughts. 

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One teaching gig down, one to go

 

The Work Of The People was invited to teach a seminar here at NWLC. So this morning I presented "Towards a Theology of Visual Media." Good to talk about stuff we've been chewing on for so long.

Also heard a great story from one of the attendees about the Kingdom breaking through. Alan teaches at a middle school. He sent one of his students out to take sport images and she got bored and brought back all kinds of beautiful images of the landscape around her. She ended up making an amazing video that catalyzed her classmates to embark on a spontaneous garbage clean up in their neighbourhood. She didn't set out to change her world, she was just telling her story. You can find her story and the video here. Visual media in the hands of kids is an awesome thing.

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Up in the air

Here I am in the placeless place, the non-culture of the airport, a manufactured landscape of banality. Okay, it's early, I got up at 4:30. Maybe I won't be quite so bleak once the Americano kicks in.

I'm on my way to Albuquerque, of all places. I'm speaking at the south west region National Worship Leader conference presenting a seminar called "Toward a theology of visual media." Come look me up if you're going to be there.

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Thinking of my Aboriginal friends

Thinking of my Aboriginal friends, Patrick, Marvin and of course my new friends Mary, Ruth and Little Mouse. The following links are all in relation to the Forgiveness Summit in Ottawa this past week leading up to National Aboriginal Day on June 21

The Prime Minister gave a formal apology to former students of the federally financed native residential schools.

Here's the full text of the Prime Minister's speech:
(links at the bottom of the page to a formal apology from the Anglican Church, Presbyterian Church, United Church and the RCMP.)

And a response from the Aboriginal people of Canada.

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Yesterday's Regent visit up on Vimeo

 Ryan came all the way into Vancouver to shoot this little adventure and has it cut together and up on Vimeo already. Thanks editing superstar dude!

Thanks again to Robert and Cherith Nordling of Calvin College for inviting me into their "Arts and Worship" class being taught at Regent over the next 2 weeks. Also, thanks to the class members in attendance for your attention and energy and for putting up with a giant camera in your classroom. I left energized, encouraged and blessed.

Like most human beings, I despise watching myself on video. I am therefore somewhat loath to post this. However, I believe in the importance of the broader discussion regarding creative expression happening in the church today, of which this humble offering is a small part. So I'll go with the needs of the broader discussion.

 

<p>Steve Frost on Art & Worship from Transposition Films on Vimeo.</p>

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Off to Regent

My friend Ryan Schroeder offered to come along and film our adventures at Regent. What can I say, all my friends are video geeks, we document everything. If anything worthwhile/interesting happens we'll put it up on the ol' interwebs.

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Cornucopia Saturday

FEAST ONE: Spent the morning listening to Mike Frost [no relation] at an event sponsored by Parish Collective and Forge Canada. Good food for the soul talking about a theology of place. My favorite metaphor: a community of people who are followers of Jesus are a movie trailer for the Kingdom. We create places of love and justice as a foretaste of the kingdom. Based on the movie trailers we create, would people want to go see the movie? Favorite snippet: Maybe the church confuses friendliness for friends.

 

FEAST TWO: This was an actual feast, in Surrey, of all places. Went to a great brew pub after the day's events. This is the only picture I have, (That's Dwight Freisen and Cam Roxburgh) I was kind of in the moment enjoying my stout and not documenting. Had a good chat with Mark Votava, Mike Frost, Tim Soerens and his wife Maria-Jose. There were 13 of us in all, so pretty spread out. You know how it is Paul. Next time brother, we will talk Ellul.

 

See and download the full gallery on posterous

FEAST THREE: On my way in to Mosaic I discovered something I hadn't noticed before. Pea plants growing out of the tiny little crack between the sidewalk and the building. Rowan, the guy with the flower in his teeth, planted them. There's a beautiful little white flower at the top of one of the stalks, and if you look closely you can see lots of perfect green pea pods. Is this not the greatest thing ever? Is this not a picture of the Kingdom? Beauty literally breaks through. Love wins! [btw Rowan is flashing the West Van sign for those that might be wondering.]

 

FEAST FOUR: Rev. Mary Fontaine of Hummingbird Ministries was our guest at Mosaic. She and two friends sang songs and conducted a sharing circle with us. We all felt such a connection to these sisters and their heart for reconcilliation and peace.

Ruth, the woman closest to the camera in the picture above, is from the local Musqeam band. For thousands of years, the Musqeam people lived and flourished on the land that is now the city of Vancouver. To open our evening Ruth sang a song of welcome on behalf of the Musqeam people, welcoming us to this land and inviting us into their circle of friendship. This welcome song had a profound and equally unexpected impact on me. I am the very picture of dominant hegemony; white, middle class, male. Despite being demographically at the centre of our culture's attention, I am affected by a rootlessness that many urban dwellers experience. I have no tangible connection to my mish-mash of national ties a couple of generations back. There is much to love in the shiny garden of Vancouver, but for many of us our roots aren't deep. These women from the margins—women at the very edge of our culture's attention who have experienced all kinds of ugly and systemic discrimination—have rediscovered a deep connection to the narrative of this place. And what is their response to discovering their rootedness, their narrative, their community, their place? They invite me into that narrative with them. Tears well up thinking about it now. For this somewhat rootless soul it was such a warm embrace. A little piece of me felt "I've been welcomed, I really belong here now." and that was way more important than I ever would have thought  it was.

 

Here's some liturgy for you all. I recorded it on my iPhone, so the sound quality isn't great, but the quality of spirit is awesome:

Rowan sang the Woman Warrior song to our sisters, thanking them for coming and visiting us.

  
Download now or listen on posterous

Rowan.wav (157 KB)

 

Our sisters sang Amazing Grace in Cree for us and then we all joined in in English. Mary talked about how special it was to sing this song in her native  language of Cree. Not too long ago her language was forbidden, outlawed. What an amazing gift that this language, this way of seeing the world, this way of understanding the Creator, the Father, Son and Spirit hasn't been lost. What a testament to courage that faithful ones have persevered and retained this piece of our common humanity.

  
Download now or listen on posterous

Amazing_Grace.wav (464 KB)

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Speaking @ Regent

I'll be at Regent June 9th talking to Robert Nordling's "Arts in Worship" class about painting in a worship context. I don't know if I know anyone in that class, if so, I'll see you there.

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Self-Other-Us and Spiritual Karate

SPEAKING OF KARATE
I walked by a dojo the other day and it reminded me of Mark Scandrette's idea of a Jesus Dojo. In Japanese "dojo" means "the place where you learn the way." So a Jesus dojo is a place where you learn the way of Jesus. Pretty cool image for a church. For me it's much more compelling than the current lecture hall image which predominates North America.

Just a few days earlier I had learned in my Japanese class that "karate" means, literally, "empty hand." So the martial art of karate isn't "this is how you fight with a stick," or "this is how you fight with sword," it's "this is how you fight with nothing in your hands."

The image of fighting with nothing in my hands got me thinking about Ephesians 6, stuff about not struggling against flesh and blood but against "spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."(Ephesians 6:12NIV) What would it look like to learn spiritual karate in a Jesus dojo? I can think of all kinds of ways this imagery could be abused. So an incredibly important question is: who would we be training to fight against? Well, the critical thing to remember is we aren't fighting against flesh and blood. So what do we fight against, with nothing tangible in our hands?

That got me thinking about a conversation I had on Dwight Friesen's back deck about "self," "other" and "us." What does self-other-us have to do with anything, you may well ask? Well, I think this idea of "Us" sheds light on who it is we fight against, with nothing tangible in our hands. My thinking is greatly influenced by Jacques Ellul and Walter Wink, their writing has guided my reading of passages like Ephesians 6:10-18. [This is my humble attempt to draw out some ideas, but to really get Ellul and Wink I'd suggest going to the source starting with "The Meaning of the City" by Jean Jaques Ellul and "The Powers That Be: Theology for a New Millennium" by Walter Wink.

SELF, OTHER, US
Dwight used the picture of marriage to talk about a notion of "self," "other" and "us." He talked about it in the context of his marriage. However, for the sake of linguistic clarity I'll use the example of my marriage, but it could be any marriage. It's less about marriage per se and more about a graspable example of human interaction.

In the context of my marriage there is "Steve" as definable and distinct from my wife Lindi. There is "Lindi" as definable and distinct from Steve. But our friends can point to an "Us" that is neither Steve nor Lindi. The "Us" emerges from the relational dynamic between Steve and Lindi and is distinct from either "Steve" or "Lindi." This self-other-us picture of marriage gives marriage a decidedly trinitarian aspect, but you can talk to Dwight about that, it's his bailiwick.

For my part, I was thinking about this self-other-us dynamic and put it together with Ellul and Wink.

In the context of my marriage there isn't one version of "Us," there are two. A generative "Us" that arises out of the good of our marriage and a degenerative "Us" that arises out of the brokeness of our marriage. The impact of "Us" in the world depends on which version is in control.

Here's another important point, the degenerative "Us" is the generative "Us" gone awry, so the degenerative "Us" is redeemable. Just as I, a distinct person have gone awry and am redeemable, the relational "Us" that arises between two individuals is also redeemable.

The generative and degenerative "Us" are in constant tension. The generative can become degenerative and the degenerative can become generative. My wife and I have to apply constant vigilance to the embodied practises of our relationship. We have to constantly inspect the systems and structures—the accrued reality of embodied practices—our marriage operates within in order to insure our embodied practises give rise to a generative "Us" rather than a degenerative "Us."

In other words, the more my wife and I live out of our brokeness, our selfishness, self-centredness, unloving-ness, the more our marriage is defined by a broken "Us." However, the more my wife and I live out of our goodness, faith, hope and love, the more our marriage is defined by a good "Us." [I use the rich Hebraic notion of "good" here, meaning internal and external right-relationship]

But how do we move toward Good Us and away from Broken Us? There are two ways: first, I can allow God's redemptive power to restore "self." The best thing I can do to move toward a Good Us is to let God restore "me." Second, I can actively fight for a Good Us. Once I rightly understand my enemy as Broken Us I'm freed from focusing my fight against flesh and blood, namely my wife, and I can rightly focus my fight against Broken Us.

SYSTEMIC KARATE
How do I fight against a degenerative "Us?" Systems give rise to embodied practises and embodied practises give rise to "Us." Systems arising out of love, hope and faithfulness give rise to loving, hopeful and faithful embodied practises, which in turn give rise to a Good Us; conversely systems arising out of non-love, non-hope and unfaithfulness give rise to un-loving, unhopeful, unfaithful practises which in turn give rise to Broken Us.

So, by creating and nurturing systems which arise out of love, hope and faithfulness I fight for Good Us;  conversely, by disrupting and subverting systems which arise out of non-love, non-hope and unfaithfulness I fight against Broken Us.

For me, this notion of the unseen Broken Us of human systems opens up new understanding to verses like Ephesians 6:12. "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." For me it makes the whole thing less pseudo-voodoo and more tangibly about my relationship with the Father, Son and Spirit and my living out of that relationship. It doesn't make it less mysterious and out of my control, I'm still as dependant on God, but this understanding somehow makes the supernatural natural.  The way things work are the way things work.

COMPLEX US
So here's the important thing for the church, this idea of "Us" exists in the outworking of all human systems; a marriage, a neighbourhood, a clan, a company, an organization, a city, a country, or a local body of believers.

The same "self," "other," "us" dynamic we've been looking at is present in these far more complex systems. These complex systems give rise to either Broken Us or Good Us. Further, in these complex systems the same two strategies remain in moving away from Broken Us and toward Good Us. First and foremost I can allow God to change "Me." Second, I can disrupt and subvert systems which uphold unloving, unhopeful, unfaithful practices.

CHURCH US
What if our church systems—the accrued reality of our embodied practises—contribute more toward Broken Us than toward Good Us? What if what we do in the name of Good Us actually manifests more of a Broken Us?

Our world is one of institutions ruled by hyper-rationalism, numbers dominate. The hubris of self sure categorizing, measuring and analyzing give us the illusion of control. The comfortable lives of the affluent are marked by fragmentation, isolation and loneliness. The desperate lives of the poor are marked by a lack of dignity, lack of hope and lack of care. The Broken Us that arises from our culture is an Us of anonymous consuming deluded by a hyper-rational illusion of control.

I am, admitedly, only describing the Broken Us of our culture. For sure there is a Good Us that arises from our culture, and for sure the Broken Us and the Good Us are in constant tension as to which defines Us. But I'd like to focus on the nature of the Broken Us of our culture for a moment, because I'd like to point out something about the way we do church.

EMPTY HANDS
If the way we do church requires categorizing, measuring and analyzing to precede ancient church disciplines [prayer, meditation, fasting, study, generosity, celebration and worship] rather than those ancient disciplines preceding our categorizing, measuring and analyzing; then aren't we giving rise to a Broken Us that is the mirror image of the Broken Us of our culture at large? How can the Broken Us of a local body of believers tear down the strongholds of the Broken Us of the broader culture when the Broken Us of the church is the bastard child of the Broken Us of the broader culture? How can anonymous consumerism burdened with an illusion of control tear down the strongholds of anonymous consumerism burdened with an illusion of control? Even though a hyper-rational numbers dominated way of doing church does give rise to a Good Us, I guess I have to ask, is it worth it? Does that way of doing church leave Good Us or Broken Us in control? Does the way we do church hobble us when it comes to fighting the Broken Us of our culture?

Maybe we can't engage in sprititual karate because we have too many flesh and blood weapons in our hands. Maybe we need to put down some things and come at it empty handed. With empty hands we, out of sheer necessity, pick up truth, righteousness, readiness, faith, salvation and the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God. We don't take up these things to attack people, we take up these things to attack un-loving, un-hopeful and unfaithful practises; un-loving, un-hopeful and unfaithful systems; we take up these things to attack Broken Us.

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Manufactured Landscapes

Movie night at Mosaic. A few of us watched the documentary "Manufactured Landscapes" about photographer Edward Burtynsky. He documents monumental man made landscapes. It's stunning work that is both beautiful and disturbing. I think that's the strength of his work, it derives its impact by presenting the way things are, in it's beauty and its ugliness, without telling you what you should think about it. As Burtynsky says it "isn't right or wrong," it requires a new way of thinking about these things. But make no mistake, the images are profoundly moving, no small feat in our image saturated world.

You can see Burtynsky here accepting his 2005 TED Prize:

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Matthew @ Mosaic

Matthew in full tambourine mode. Mosaic was kickin' it tonight.

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Tanya's drawing

This is the drawing Tanya made at Mosaic tonight. She asked me, "Steve, is this drawing spiritual enough?" I asked her to tell me about it. She said, "This is my hands on top of my friend's hands. My hands are to help others who are in need, these hands are God's hands. My hands are on top of her hands because I lay my hands on top of her hurts. I want to comfort her through this time." Yes, Tanya I think you got the spiritual part just fine.

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Tanya and Lindsay

Tanya is usually one of the first people to arrive at Mosaic every Saturday afternoon. You can hear her talk about Mosaic on the Mosaic video: http://vimeo.com/11536517.>

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Place

noun: a particular position or point in space

Sent from my iPhone

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Seattle twice in as many weeks

Lindi and Annalisa went on a one day "repositioning" cruise from Vancouver to Seattle, so I had to drive down and pick them up. Drove right by Mars Hill Graduate School, so already feeling more connected with all you all in Seattle via relational drive by.

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South of the 49th

Headed south to Seattle to do some filming with Dwight Friesen. Met up at Mars Hill Graduate School (no affiliation with Mars Hill Church BTW). Dwight recently published a book "Thy Kingdom Connected." It fuses two of my favorite topics God's kingdom an network theory.

Four Canucks on this road trip. Fantastic time had by all, topped off with pizza, beer and cigars on Dwight's back deck.

Also got introduced to Tim Soerens and Paul Sparks who created Parish Collective "rooted in neighborhood and linked across cities." Great guys doing great work, look forward to getting together again when they're up in Vancouver with Mike Frost June 5. We did some filming Tim and Paul too. Ryan is trying to cut something together, busy lad, and we'll post it on Vimeo so you can hear what Parish Collective is all about.

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Matt's drawing

Matt, who is the first person to speak in the Mosaic video in the previous post, did this drawing at Mosaic last night. Beautiful.

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Mosaic video

Ryan of Transposition Films shot and edited a little video for us explaining Mosaic. (Like you can ever explain Mosaic.)

It's up on Vimeo and I'll try my first attempt at embedding a Vimeo link. Here goes:

 

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Ironman 2: The Updatening

Well, we got home somewhere around 3am, but it was one of those things we can say we did together. Consensus seems to be it was a good father move.

THE REVIEW:

It was what it was suppose to be. Seems they managed to pull off a sequel at least equal to the original. It manages to enhance rather than damages the franchise. I'm sure there will be caterwauling about it being a lead in to yet more of the same, but isn't that the point? Part of the fun is knowing there's more to come. Also, no, I've never read an Ironman comic book. Yes, I got that some other characters from that series were introduced in this movie. It's not that complicated.

This offing didn't fall into the "more bigger explosions" trap which so often befalls sequels and ends up destroying any pacing or coherence. If there was more of anything there was more of the quick and sharp banter which gave it a smart feeling without being too smart. (At least, not too smart for the summer action 'splosion crowd.) The story was slightly better than a well written episode for a TV series, which is all you want from a summer action blockbuster.

Great casting, great performances from everyone. They all seemed to actually be having fun with their roles. I am happy to report Scarlett Johansson continues to impress. Her wanton marshal-arts-tress didn't have that "Hey I'm 20, but look at the big boy stuff I'm doing" feel that a lot of those wanton marshal-arts-tress parts seem to have. She was very convincing in an Uma killing Bill kind of way. She commands the screen as not many can. It's nice to see someone you hope is as good as you think they are actually be as good as you hope they are. (Lost In Translation, still one of my favorites.)

 

 

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Good father/Bad father?

Impulsively at a 21:01 screening of Ironman 2 with my 16 year old son. (He doesn't have school tomorrow.)

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Earth bound

Stand still verdant one

alight on the edge of portent

match your heart beat to mine

and I'll be free

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Mixing it up

Is there a better place to try posterous than at Mix the bakery. The smell gives you a warm hug when you walk in. Just looking at beautifully crafted bread makes my brain work better. Maybe being around wheat-into-bread culture making helps me make words-into-sentences culture making.

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