"Be realistic, Phil"
The moment we are realistic is the moment that we announce God is nothing.
The moment we fail to admit we are called to the impossible is the moment we refuse to live for the Kingdom of God.
I am an idealist because I am unwilling to settle for less.
Because "on earth as it is in heaven" implies risk, suffering, and persecution for the Kingdom to come.
By not being idealist, we, in fact, renounce our faith entirely.
Do you believe?
Do you believe God can do great things (or small things with great love) through you? He did so with a poor refugee outcast who was trampled by the pious and seemingly good citizens of the world. Then he said we would do even greater things than Him.
The age of apathy. My generation is the most apathetic. Yet bright hope shines from the extremely small minority who actually believe. We are few. Most Christians do not qualify.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
i thought i made a post recently....
....but apparently it never went through. It was about how Protestants replace Jesus with the Bible, and while doing so, accuse their Catholic counterparts of worshiping Mary and the Saints, when in fact those who do worship Mary/saints are not staying true to the Catholic faith. I'm upset with my Protestant upbringing because it taught me that the Bible was holy (only God can be holy). And I didn't hear much about Jesus: more from St. Paul than anything (yet we continue to accuse those Catholics of being the ones worshiping the saints). My long, drawn-out complaint about the ambiguity and inconsistency of the Protestant schism has been, thankfully for you, reduced to this mere paragraph.
So I'll leave it at that and continue on just to apologize for not posting in a long time. Suzan's passport still has not been processed (and hence, neither has she completed the visa process). So I'm going to go to Uganda for the summer instead of her coming here. It's going to be great - sleeping and waking with the sun, visiting neighbors and strangers and old friends. All of those fantastic things. It will help my body and emotions cover from a semester of straining unrest. Oh, not to mention, I'm going to see Suzan. That's not just the icing on the cake. It is the cake. I will stay with her family and finally get to see her village of Oyam.
So I'll leave it at that and continue on just to apologize for not posting in a long time. Suzan's passport still has not been processed (and hence, neither has she completed the visa process). So I'm going to go to Uganda for the summer instead of her coming here. It's going to be great - sleeping and waking with the sun, visiting neighbors and strangers and old friends. All of those fantastic things. It will help my body and emotions cover from a semester of straining unrest. Oh, not to mention, I'm going to see Suzan. That's not just the icing on the cake. It is the cake. I will stay with her family and finally get to see her village of Oyam.
Friday, April 2, 2010
i looked back in time
Yesterday was so beautiful outside, and I wanted to take my camera on a walk with my friend Bianca to celebrate the temperature.
I wanted to explore the seemingly abandoned train station areas. First we had to pass through a fence that had been taken down at one spot to allow us to trespass into the fake suburban community downtown.
After we walked through the storybook neighborhood, we were back into the real world and crossed a few roads to get to an area of one color: grey. The endless stones on the ground were grey. The old trains and industrial machines were grey. Even the banner of capitalism (American flag) seemed grey to me. The black bird bathing in the toxic rain puddle, however, seemed to Bianca to appear as bright as day itself.
We walked onward, snapping shots of the ancient concrete jungle. Eventually we got to a place under the highway overpass. Without noticing, I almost stepped on a sleeping man who had garbage scattered all around him. Also scattered were bright jelly beans which sprinkled color all over the stone ground.
I needed to pee, and I saw a path, so I told Bianca to wait while I did my business. I went ahead up the path and peed in the bushes. When I finished, I looked up and saw (while not wearing my glasses) old tattered clothes and other colors amidst the trees ahead. I scurried back to Bianca and told her to follow me. I wanted to see what was ahead. As we walked closer it became apparent that these colors were tents that had been erected beneath the brush of the highway. A dog began to bark, which I perceived to be a threat (though later Bianca would tell me the dog was actually excitedly wagging its tail). Someone who I thought was a long-haired man (Bianca told me later it was a female) stepped outside the bushes and stared at us from afar. I stared back, in shock, not knowing how to act.
I was staring back into another world of long ago. I had been here, or dreamt this before. It seemed like minutes before I finally waved. The figure waved back. I paused and awkwardly shouted, "Hello," but the absent response left me pacing back and forth, deciding whether it would be more offensive to welcome myself to the tents or to turn around and leave: a lose-lose situation.
Bianca also looked uncomfortable and we turned around to leave, though something in my conscience didn't like that. Later Bianca said, "That's where Jesus would've gone, you know. The margins of society."
Bianca also remember the childhood dream of living adventurously in a tent, or perhaps a treehouse. I recalled my own similar, early fantasies. I do not know why we turned around, nor do I know why my inner being wants me to return and dwell with those people.
There was recently a shooting in another part of town: Allison Hill - the "pocket of poverty" as local clergy describe it. Katie and I walked to St. Francis of Assisi Cathedral at noon today for their Good Friday prayer walk, where we were to pass by the murder site (though I don't remember that part). We walked around south Allison Hill, stopping at various points to pray, do liturgy, kneel before the cross we carried, etc. As we walked onward, we sang, alternating between English and Spanish, as locals gathered on porches to perplex at our passing.
I had never done a non-Protestant Holy Week, but Katie helped me realize why I enjoyed the Catholic way. Catholics emphasize Christ's suffering so heavily. It's true, there is a much longer story of suffering than there is victory, in terms of scripture. Yes, suffering is temporary and joy eternal, but the word passion comes from the Passion of Christ - his suffering, his murdering, his slaughter. These Franciscans do something great by not cheapening Christ's affliction - they make His resurrection actually worth something.
Walking around the city, hearing about pain the whole time (until the final station) was difficult, but the truth is, it was still a nice day outside. My only question is: how long must the tent city suffer before it reaches its rightful atonement? Will the Church see its call, or will we merely wait for the apocalypse?
I wanted to explore the seemingly abandoned train station areas. First we had to pass through a fence that had been taken down at one spot to allow us to trespass into the fake suburban community downtown.
After we walked through the storybook neighborhood, we were back into the real world and crossed a few roads to get to an area of one color: grey. The endless stones on the ground were grey. The old trains and industrial machines were grey. Even the banner of capitalism (American flag) seemed grey to me. The black bird bathing in the toxic rain puddle, however, seemed to Bianca to appear as bright as day itself.
We walked onward, snapping shots of the ancient concrete jungle. Eventually we got to a place under the highway overpass. Without noticing, I almost stepped on a sleeping man who had garbage scattered all around him. Also scattered were bright jelly beans which sprinkled color all over the stone ground.
I needed to pee, and I saw a path, so I told Bianca to wait while I did my business. I went ahead up the path and peed in the bushes. When I finished, I looked up and saw (while not wearing my glasses) old tattered clothes and other colors amidst the trees ahead. I scurried back to Bianca and told her to follow me. I wanted to see what was ahead. As we walked closer it became apparent that these colors were tents that had been erected beneath the brush of the highway. A dog began to bark, which I perceived to be a threat (though later Bianca would tell me the dog was actually excitedly wagging its tail). Someone who I thought was a long-haired man (Bianca told me later it was a female) stepped outside the bushes and stared at us from afar. I stared back, in shock, not knowing how to act.
I was staring back into another world of long ago. I had been here, or dreamt this before. It seemed like minutes before I finally waved. The figure waved back. I paused and awkwardly shouted, "Hello," but the absent response left me pacing back and forth, deciding whether it would be more offensive to welcome myself to the tents or to turn around and leave: a lose-lose situation.
Bianca also looked uncomfortable and we turned around to leave, though something in my conscience didn't like that. Later Bianca said, "That's where Jesus would've gone, you know. The margins of society."
Bianca also remember the childhood dream of living adventurously in a tent, or perhaps a treehouse. I recalled my own similar, early fantasies. I do not know why we turned around, nor do I know why my inner being wants me to return and dwell with those people.
There was recently a shooting in another part of town: Allison Hill - the "pocket of poverty" as local clergy describe it. Katie and I walked to St. Francis of Assisi Cathedral at noon today for their Good Friday prayer walk, where we were to pass by the murder site (though I don't remember that part). We walked around south Allison Hill, stopping at various points to pray, do liturgy, kneel before the cross we carried, etc. As we walked onward, we sang, alternating between English and Spanish, as locals gathered on porches to perplex at our passing.
I had never done a non-Protestant Holy Week, but Katie helped me realize why I enjoyed the Catholic way. Catholics emphasize Christ's suffering so heavily. It's true, there is a much longer story of suffering than there is victory, in terms of scripture. Yes, suffering is temporary and joy eternal, but the word passion comes from the Passion of Christ - his suffering, his murdering, his slaughter. These Franciscans do something great by not cheapening Christ's affliction - they make His resurrection actually worth something.
Walking around the city, hearing about pain the whole time (until the final station) was difficult, but the truth is, it was still a nice day outside. My only question is: how long must the tent city suffer before it reaches its rightful atonement? Will the Church see its call, or will we merely wait for the apocalypse?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
palm sunday
"April 2, 1944, was Palm Sunday. It was a hazy, still day in San Salvador, which had been abandoned by many families seeking fresh breezes on the coast or at summer places outside the capital....Military planes were flying low, barely above their houses."
The struggle of the rural poor Salvadorans, and others of the non-elite class, to overthrow General Martinez, the oppressive president of the country, was advancing violently. Radio stations and telegraph offices had been seized. Rebels were already drinking to a victory they had not yet won.
But the powerful and oppressive government used their shear strength to prevail. The violent uprising was only a tiny obstacle for the regime. Martinez was capable of defeating anyone militarily.
So Salvadoran university students had to come up with a better plan of action, a force more powerful than violent rebellion. They stopped going to class and ceased reporting to work. They convinced shop owners to close down and gathered funds to support those on strike. There were no guns, and this movement is the one which removed Martinez from power.
Just as Jesus rode in on a humble donkey, prepared to suffer, the oppressed of El Salvador also refused to take up arms, repeating the legacy of the King who ruled by his affliction. By using weapons not of this world, they conquered evil. Fully equipped with palm branches and the most humble of war horses.
The struggle of the rural poor Salvadorans, and others of the non-elite class, to overthrow General Martinez, the oppressive president of the country, was advancing violently. Radio stations and telegraph offices had been seized. Rebels were already drinking to a victory they had not yet won.
But the powerful and oppressive government used their shear strength to prevail. The violent uprising was only a tiny obstacle for the regime. Martinez was capable of defeating anyone militarily.
So Salvadoran university students had to come up with a better plan of action, a force more powerful than violent rebellion. They stopped going to class and ceased reporting to work. They convinced shop owners to close down and gathered funds to support those on strike. There were no guns, and this movement is the one which removed Martinez from power.
Just as Jesus rode in on a humble donkey, prepared to suffer, the oppressed of El Salvador also refused to take up arms, repeating the legacy of the King who ruled by his affliction. By using weapons not of this world, they conquered evil. Fully equipped with palm branches and the most humble of war horses.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
a reiki healing
On the way back to town from class today, I summarized the Israeli Occupation for my friend Kristen. My theory: if we all stop paying taxes, the oppression will end and the government won't have the money to put us into jail, so we will go unpunished.
On the way back to campus (I decided I wanted to go back to sit-in on Kristen's Spritual Healing Powers class), I met an individual on the shuttle run between Harrisburg and campus who works with an NGO as one who helps engaged/married people bring their spouses to the US. She was telling me that in order for me to bring my spouse to the US without a sponsor, I must have to have made over $18000 annually for three years. Kind of impossible as a student. It's a shame that a human in today's world must support an unjust government to have a clean tax record to be with the one he loves. I think romantic love must be the number one hindrance to carrying out one's convictions, yet the number one support factor at the same time.
I became very stressed over the situation, rambling to Kristen how unjust my scenario was. I could not consciously pay my taxes with blood on my hands, but I could also not bare to be apart from Suzan.
So we made it to class, and there was a Reiki healing specialist named Whitebear who was there to teach (and heal) us. He was a Christian, mind you.
So an added bonus was that Whitebear could see auras, a colored ring of light which emulates from us. He noted that I was a contemplative purple, which I had heard from others who could see auras also. Of course, with the charisma scare in our culture, you are always skeptical to begin with, and I still have my doubts. Nevertheless, I do believe Whitebear has the spiritual gift of healing (also, he's a pro masseuse).
Whitebear first took time to explain Reiki, an alternative form of medicine, to us. Then he started working with us all individually. He came to me last, for whatever reason, having already acknowledged me as purple at the beginning of the class. Upon coming to me he said, "Ah, skeptic number 2" (a previous kid had also been skeptical of him). Strangely, I was the only one that he said seemed to have no physical disturbance or pain on my body. This was true, as I was feeling good and rested today.
Finally, he asked if I had a decision to make. I was hoping he would come to this conclusion. He sat next to me and wanted to assist me in making this solution. I started secretly doing a meditation I had learned before, breathing in "Yah" and exhaling "Weh." Though he didn't know I was doing this, he immediately noted, "You're turning back and forth between blue and green now." Blue indicates an opening in spirituality, and green indicates the awakening of spirituality, at the body's most vulnerable center of compassion and love.
He touched my back, and I began to feel a warmth on my back. I noticed my something restless in my throat (the center of communication/expression and the opening to spirituality). I kept doing my meditation as he proceeded. He asked if I felt something in my legs. I did, and the twitch I felt moved down to my ankles. I was thinking about the decision: a decision to take a stand against government or the decision to sacrifice justice for the sake of being with my love (he had also mentioned love had something to do with this earlier). I told him I was not ready to make the decision (I wanted him to hold on longer so I could meditate more on it), and he said, "Let's see what happens when I take the indecision away."
Immediately, the leg/ankle twitching left me. The warmth on my back was gone. I was released from the healing process without reaching a verdict. During the whole thing, I was trying to come to a realization that the Kingdom of God is within me and that I can BOTH fight injustice and be with my love, despite the laws and systems in place. I wanted to realize I had the power. I think he didn't want to hold on to me for that long because he never wanted me to actually reach this decisive climax.
He said I was allowed to tear up. I felt myself beginning to do that, though there was seemingly no reason for it.
Anyway, although I reached no conclusions, I feel as if I am in the process of not only believing, but embodying the fact that the Kingdom of God is within me. The fact that this Kingdom is more powerful than any system, anything I can see, touch, or otherwise sense in this world (if you've ever seen The Matrix). With the Kingdom alive in me, I can use the Holy Spirit to see this world though a completely different light. I have the legitimate power to overcome facts, science, and logic and even do miracles. If we weren't called to do the impossible, God would be nothing but irrelevant. I can resist taxes and be with Suzan, simultaneously if I truly believe this Kingdom to be real. The question is whether I will remain a skeptic or embrace the madness of Jesus.
On the way back to campus (I decided I wanted to go back to sit-in on Kristen's Spritual Healing Powers class), I met an individual on the shuttle run between Harrisburg and campus who works with an NGO as one who helps engaged/married people bring their spouses to the US. She was telling me that in order for me to bring my spouse to the US without a sponsor, I must have to have made over $18000 annually for three years. Kind of impossible as a student. It's a shame that a human in today's world must support an unjust government to have a clean tax record to be with the one he loves. I think romantic love must be the number one hindrance to carrying out one's convictions, yet the number one support factor at the same time.
I became very stressed over the situation, rambling to Kristen how unjust my scenario was. I could not consciously pay my taxes with blood on my hands, but I could also not bare to be apart from Suzan.
So we made it to class, and there was a Reiki healing specialist named Whitebear who was there to teach (and heal) us. He was a Christian, mind you.
So an added bonus was that Whitebear could see auras, a colored ring of light which emulates from us. He noted that I was a contemplative purple, which I had heard from others who could see auras also. Of course, with the charisma scare in our culture, you are always skeptical to begin with, and I still have my doubts. Nevertheless, I do believe Whitebear has the spiritual gift of healing (also, he's a pro masseuse).
Whitebear first took time to explain Reiki, an alternative form of medicine, to us. Then he started working with us all individually. He came to me last, for whatever reason, having already acknowledged me as purple at the beginning of the class. Upon coming to me he said, "Ah, skeptic number 2" (a previous kid had also been skeptical of him). Strangely, I was the only one that he said seemed to have no physical disturbance or pain on my body. This was true, as I was feeling good and rested today.
Finally, he asked if I had a decision to make. I was hoping he would come to this conclusion. He sat next to me and wanted to assist me in making this solution. I started secretly doing a meditation I had learned before, breathing in "Yah" and exhaling "Weh." Though he didn't know I was doing this, he immediately noted, "You're turning back and forth between blue and green now." Blue indicates an opening in spirituality, and green indicates the awakening of spirituality, at the body's most vulnerable center of compassion and love.
He touched my back, and I began to feel a warmth on my back. I noticed my something restless in my throat (the center of communication/expression and the opening to spirituality). I kept doing my meditation as he proceeded. He asked if I felt something in my legs. I did, and the twitch I felt moved down to my ankles. I was thinking about the decision: a decision to take a stand against government or the decision to sacrifice justice for the sake of being with my love (he had also mentioned love had something to do with this earlier). I told him I was not ready to make the decision (I wanted him to hold on longer so I could meditate more on it), and he said, "Let's see what happens when I take the indecision away."
Immediately, the leg/ankle twitching left me. The warmth on my back was gone. I was released from the healing process without reaching a verdict. During the whole thing, I was trying to come to a realization that the Kingdom of God is within me and that I can BOTH fight injustice and be with my love, despite the laws and systems in place. I wanted to realize I had the power. I think he didn't want to hold on to me for that long because he never wanted me to actually reach this decisive climax.
He said I was allowed to tear up. I felt myself beginning to do that, though there was seemingly no reason for it.
Anyway, although I reached no conclusions, I feel as if I am in the process of not only believing, but embodying the fact that the Kingdom of God is within me. The fact that this Kingdom is more powerful than any system, anything I can see, touch, or otherwise sense in this world (if you've ever seen The Matrix). With the Kingdom alive in me, I can use the Holy Spirit to see this world though a completely different light. I have the legitimate power to overcome facts, science, and logic and even do miracles. If we weren't called to do the impossible, God would be nothing but irrelevant. I can resist taxes and be with Suzan, simultaneously if I truly believe this Kingdom to be real. The question is whether I will remain a skeptic or embrace the madness of Jesus.
Monday, March 22, 2010
peace fellowship
I'm really pumped. Some students in my History of Peace class and some that came to the Intercollegiate Peace Fellowship Conference and I got together with a professor today to begin drafting our ideas for a Peace Fellowship at Messiah College. We are still debating whether we want to go through campus organizations to get funding and be established or if we want to remain underground to retain freedom of radicalism. So far we have a diverse crew: different majors, different obsessions, different ages, different genders. A common bond of a passion for restoring Shalom in our world.
Beginnings are always exciting.
Beginnings are always exciting.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
there are always gems.
So today I got free Rita's italian ice five times because it's the first day of spring.
Actually, that's not the point of this post. I just wanted to note that last night I went to a house show. There were some really creative touring bands who used unique instruments (and things that weren't standard musical instruments). There were kind people and it was a good show.
Today Bianca came back and took me to the Midtown Scholar, which is a cool used-book store which I didn't know existed. Upon entry, I was observing the food drive at the front of the store where I was welcomed by my friend Liz who apparently works there. I love browsing books, and I came across a section where I found Leo Tolstoy (my new favorite), Henry David Thoreau (my old favorite), and a book by my own academic advisor at Messiah College. It was awesome to see all of these authors in the same section. It made me realize what a cool town I live in.
There are always gems. In (almost) every place in this world. You just gotta dig to find them sometimes. Often you have to become one of the local people to realize that they exist.
Also my friend Kristen who lives here is doing her senior paper on silence and words and I think it's just as exciting for me as it is for her. I got to pass on my Bhagavad Gita to someone actually interested in it for once. Although, I have to say that I am disappointed that I could not find a copy of the Upanishads at the Midtown Scholar. Either way, I still hold that the place is a gem, though maybe not yet pure gold.
Actually, that's not the point of this post. I just wanted to note that last night I went to a house show. There were some really creative touring bands who used unique instruments (and things that weren't standard musical instruments). There were kind people and it was a good show.
Today Bianca came back and took me to the Midtown Scholar, which is a cool used-book store which I didn't know existed. Upon entry, I was observing the food drive at the front of the store where I was welcomed by my friend Liz who apparently works there. I love browsing books, and I came across a section where I found Leo Tolstoy (my new favorite), Henry David Thoreau (my old favorite), and a book by my own academic advisor at Messiah College. It was awesome to see all of these authors in the same section. It made me realize what a cool town I live in.
There are always gems. In (almost) every place in this world. You just gotta dig to find them sometimes. Often you have to become one of the local people to realize that they exist.
Also my friend Kristen who lives here is doing her senior paper on silence and words and I think it's just as exciting for me as it is for her. I got to pass on my Bhagavad Gita to someone actually interested in it for once. Although, I have to say that I am disappointed that I could not find a copy of the Upanishads at the Midtown Scholar. Either way, I still hold that the place is a gem, though maybe not yet pure gold.
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