“You are going to feel like hell if you never write the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart — your stories, visions, memories, visions and songs. Your truth, your version of things, your own voice. That is really all you have to offer us. And that’s also why you were born.”
Anne Lamott
“You are going to feel like hell if you never write the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart — your stories, visions, memories, visions and songs. Your truth, your version of things, your own voice. That is really all you have to offer us. And that’s also why you were born.”
Anne Lamott
Today is my first post in a new category entitled “Things this old man thinks about” It is my intention to share occasional thoughts that cross my mind, mostly in a random fashion. I realize this carries some significant risk, but transparency is important, right?
I would like to believe my thoughts will be original, but that is too optimistic. Over the years, one source that has stimulated some ideas, but mostly validated thoughts I’ve had, is the cartoon strip Pickles. I am pretty sure the author has managed to hack our Alexas. I encourage everyone to subscribe to Pickles. You can subscribe HERE. In addition to the daily lives of Opal and Earl you will often get a glimpse of George and Ann.
A good example is today’s strip. Although I have never discerned that Earl or Opal hold any particular faith. Reading Pickles today, this thought crossed my my mind, “Earl may be an evangelical Christian.”
I think a lot about our culture. Not just the immediate political and religious morass but on a broader scale. I believe our immediate cultural crisis (cultural crisis may be the only point on which there is agreement), is a symptom of a cataclysmic shift in human history. I know that sounds melodramatic. However, in the absence of some understanding of where we have come from and how we got here, any hope of progress, much less resolution, is dim. Admittedly, my understanding is mostly gained from a cursory engagement with the thoughts and writings of Charles Taylor and others on what is being described as a secular age. Accordingly, I’m open to a course correction.
Until I get redirected, I will continue In my assertion: Living in a disenchanted age is the most significant challenge we face in seeking a relationship with God.
The following citation from a previous blog post can help give context to my assertion and clarify my concern.
The default mode for the disenchanted age is reliance on human ability/reason and scientific laws as an ultimate source for answers to the problems of modernity. Utility, efficiency and production are our preimemmant tools to achieve full potential as human beings. Inherently, disenchantment rejects the transcendent. Mystery, fantasy, spirituality, faith, divinity, magic, art, namely, enchantment, is rendered irrelevant. our existence in a disenchanted age is reduced to one dimension, removing depth and meaning and distorting the purpose of our lives. As Beck describes, “When creation is stripped of its holy, sacred and enchanted character …it becomes–material. Raw, disenchanted material. Inert stuff. Piles of particles.”
The challenge of a secular age is so massive and complex it is overwhelming. For that reason, I am constantly looking for insights that can help me, and hopefully others, navigate the perils of our secular age. Last year, I found echo chambers to be a highly relevant factor in the continuing implosion of our society. For those who have not had the opportunity (or declined) to read my essay on echo chambers, you can download it HERE
Recently I came across an article that introduced a metaphor which I believe can be helpful and is the subject of this post, Middle Tint. I highly recommend the full article which you can read HERE. Please note I am unable to provide attribution for the article. Should anyone know its source, please let me know.
Commenting on a well know landscape painting, distinguished by its middle tint, the author writes, in part:
…middle tint—that is, the grays, the browns and blues and dull brick reds, not bright; the colors that do not sing out for your attention; the colors you might not notice if you are not looking for them.
..the truly skilled painter devoted most of his canvas to middle tint. In a great landscape, there is “excessively small quantity, both of extreme light and extreme shade, all the mass of the picture being graduated and delicate middle tint. . . . The middle tint is laid before the dark colors, and before the lights
Perhaps middle tint is the palette of faithfulness. Middle tint is going to church each week, opening the prayer book each day. This is rote, unshowy behavior, and you would not notice it if you weren’t looking for it, but it is necessary; it is most of the canvas; it is the palette that makes possible the gashes of white, the outlines of black; it is indeed that by which the painting will succeed or fail..
As is the case for metaphors, there can be many interpretations and applications. I thought about how middle tint could apply to our society, churches, families and organizations, all worthy of consideration. But, I was drawn in my imagination to consider what a realistic landscape painting of my life might look like.
Would it be largely absent middle tint and dominated by bold light, color and extreme shade, reflecting life in a disenchanted age, reduced to one dimension, absent depth and meaning and purpose?
I want to think it would it be a great landscape, built on the gradations of middle tint; bringing bold light, color and extreme shade into proper perspective.
Of course my life’s landscape painting is not complete, its composition is on-going . Clearly, today it is not a great painting, lacking essential qualities which would make it a masterpiece. Deficiencies of my landscape come from a failure to lay down middle tint, that puts bright light and color in its proper perspective.
As opportunity to complete my landscape wanes, priority and purpose become clearer… work on in the middle tint. I suffer no illusion about producing a masterpiece, but there is hope for a better painting.
A post by Pete Enns caught my attention today. It is not unusual for new year’s resolutions to include some new or renewed commitment to engage the Bible. Perhaps, it’s reading through the Bible in one year or just resolving to read each day,or more often. I am no stranger to such resolutions. If you have made or are inclined to make such a resolution, I would encourage you to consider some observations Enns made regarding engaging the Bible in his post:
Evangelical “engagement”
The assumption that in the Bible God speaks to us today directly, plainly, and clearly, yielding moral and scientific certitudes;
That engaging Scripture means finding the answers to our questions rather than challenging our preconditioned thinking;
That expressions of doubt, disagreement, or even intellectual curiosity are out of place, signs of a weak faith rather than a faith that is growing;
That God’s communication is fundamentally on the level of “Bible verses” that can safely be isolated from their historical, literary, and theological context;
That the Bible’s main purpose is as an evangelistic tool, namely to provide information so that we can be “saved” from eternal conscious torment in hell.
[Consider giving the] Bible …its due respect as:
a book that invites Christians to experience the mystery of God in Christ;
a book that encourages Christians, not by promising answers to every question that plagues us, but by modeling for us trust in our Creator when those answer are not apparent—or when they never come;
a book whose main purpose is to cultivate mature faith in followers of Jesus over time along life’s journey.
The Bible has captivated some of the greatest minds of more than 2,000 years of history. It is indeed worthy of engagement—serious engagement. The question is, what does that engagement look like?
2020 has a special ring to it. Maybe it is its alliterative quality or the birth of a new decade? For whatever reason, it seems special. As I reflect on the past ten years and optimistically look forward to the next ten years, I have become aware of some interesting realities n the autumn of my life.
For much of my life, I thought of aging and maturing as gaining knowledge, experience and wisdom, the end, of which, would assure a comfortable, blissful and uncomplicated autumn season of life. The trajectory of autumn is a process of reduction, a funnel drawing everything to conclusion. I was, of course, naive. Life is unpredictable, even more so in later years, when health, finances, relationships, are often tenuous.
Coming to autumn, I discovered it to be more akin to entering the wardrobe In The Lion, The witch and the Wardrobe, than a cozy cocoon. I have found myself entering a strange and wondrous place of mystery, questions, doubts, adventure and endless possibilities. Each day, is iIke a sunset at the end of a cloudy day, when the sun breaks through revealing an unexpected and startling beauty. Despite its brevity, sunset transforms the unpredictable and makes impending darkness inconsequential.
Living in the sunset is a challenge. The desire to grasp and absorb infinite nuances of color and contrast before darkness invades can be overwhelming. Only the assurance of a new day and another sunset, restrains despair. Exhilaration and frustration are constant companions. I hold no regrets for my life, but I can say with confidence, I have never felt more alive than now.
My blog posts are meager attempts to share sunset experiences. Certainly they will be inadequate. As we all know, the grandeur of sunset is beyond description.
Looking forward to 2020, here are a few subjects/ideas I’m pondering for blog posts. Of course, I expect there will be unexpected sunset experiences to share.
All this week I have been subjected to a relentless assault on truth. Beliefs and values have been denigrated. I have come to understand the power of media and how it shapes our culture. Propaganda, fake news, misinformation, blatant lies prevail. Truth is being sacrificed on pagan altars. Sacred traditions, traced back to our pre-America ancestors have disappeared. The fabric of family tradition is being torn.
We must stop this madness.
This post will reveal the truth and sound an alarm for the the treacherous path we have chosen(?) or more, likely been manipulated into by sinister forces.
Christmas for me, always brings early memories of my parents and their traditions. As an only child most of their attention was on me. One particular tradition that stands out is the baking of fruitcake. It was the only time I remember them working together in the kitchen. There were no mixes, everything was done from scratch. Coconuts were cracked and the meat carved out at substantial risk and then grated. Candied fruits, dates, raisins and nuts were carefully prepared. The highlight of fruitcake preparation was the addition of rum. They never explained how the rum was obtained. It seemed to make the occasion deliciously immoral. I presume there was a special exception for fruitcake. The heavy batter was mixed by hand, requiring my Dad’s strength. Fruitcake and boiled custard became a staple of my Christmas experience. Which brings me to the reason for this post.
In recent days since I purchased a fruitcake, it has become apparent that fruitcake has become a victim of the the destructive forces that are undermining our society. Everyone to whom I have offered to share my fruitcake has not only refused but has brought into question my intelligence, my motives, my integrity and even my faith, not to mention my taste.
To understand how we got here, a bit of fruitcake history is necessary. (Wikipedia)
The earliest recipe from Ancient Rome lists pomegranate seeds, pine nuts, and raisins that were mixed into barley mash. In the Middle Ages, honey, spices, and preservedfruits were added. Fruitcakes soon proliferated all over Europe. Recipes varied greatly in different countries throughout the ages, depending on the available ingredients.
Starting in the 16th century, sugar from the American Colonies (and the discovery that high concentrations of sugar could preserve fruits) created an excess of candied fruit, thus making fruitcakes more affordable and popular.
Typical American fruitcakes are rich in fruit and nuts. Mail-order fruitcakes in America began in 1913. Commercial fruitcakes are often sold from catalogs by charities as a fund raiser.
Most American mass-produced fruitcakes are alcohol-free, but traditional recipes are saturated with liqueurs or brandy and covered in powdered sugar, both of which prevent mold. Brandy (or wine) soaked linens can be used to store the fruitcakes, and some people feel that fruitcakes improve with age.
In the United States, the fruitcake has become a ridiculed dessert, in part due to the mass-produced inexpensive cakes of questionable age. Some attribute the beginning of this trend with The Tonight Show host Johnny Carson. He would joke that there really is only one fruitcake in the world, passed from family to family. In fact, the fruitcake had been a butt of jokes on television programs such as Father Knows Best and The Donna Reed Show years before The Tonight Show debuted and appears to have first become a vilified confection in the early 20th century, as evidenced by Warner Brothers cartoons.
Yes, I know there are fruitcake lovers somewhere out there, but the truth is, our numbers are shrinking.There was a time when we were the majority and life was good. Families gathered in the kitchen at Christmas and created a delicious treat handed down for centuries.
After decades of derision and substandard fruitcakes, coupled with the emergence of generations unappreciative of tradition and family values, we fruitcake lovers have become irrelevant and facing extinction. We have contributed to our own demise by abandoning our precious tradition for commercialized and empty substitutes.
Is there no hope?
Perhaps if I began to make high quality fruitcakes and shared them with my neighbors? The negative image of fruitcake is such that just delivering them unsolicited to my neighbors would almost assure failure. A better strategy might be to invite them over and gently introduce them to the idea of fruitcake. (Generous amounts of rum and/or brandy might help, also put some into the fruitcake). After listening to their pre-conceived notions about fruitcakes and those who eat them, they might begin to trust me and try a piece or two. Truthfully, fruitcake is an acquired taste, but like bourbon, the conviviality created by sharing with friends can overcome deep divides.
What choice do I have? Some would tell me deepen my resolve and fight for fruitcake at all costs. We are no longer the majority and our power is waning. I grieve the prospects of a society without fruitcake. Legislation seems to be out of the question. Although it not outside the realm of possibility, I do not expect a presidential candidate to run on a fruitcake platform.
Who can we blame this on? Johnny Carson? Perhaps, but all fruitcake lovers share responsibility. We failed to recognize and understand the cultural shifts that were occurring and chose utility and convenience, surrendering community for commodity. Like the entrepreneurs pitching their products on Shark Tank, we did not understand the real value of fruitcake was its tradition. Absent that, it becomes a commodity that can be knocked off by anyone. Truth be known, I would guess purchasers of fruitcake are motivated more by nostalgia than taste.
I’m not optimistic about fruitcake but I could imagine that we might find community and when that happens fruitcake will be redeemed in ways we could never imagine. Until then, I’ll keep buying fruitcake and remembering those precious times long ago.
