The fables and heroes on my street.



new friends, a diatribe

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So, this Jew, Catholic and Protestant, drove up the Hudson River last weekend for a good ol' Irish dinner. It was the first time cabbage and corn-beef actually excited my taste buds, demanding a second helping. And when Emily's grandfather (who made the corn-beef) gets up for seconds, asking would you like some extras, it's only polite to say yes (and did I mention they had homemade chocolate chip cookies...they did and I loved them). This triumvirate of religious diversity and historiogrophical unity has become quite the little gang. And the three-hour (turned six hour) drive to Emily's house was some of the best conversation I've had in a long time -- at least in regards to our diversity and perception of each other’s faith.

But folks, I must admit, we seem to always come out on the short-ended stick of perception. Yet, I am growing less and less convinced that it's actually everyone's misperception of Christianity and not just our inability to transform the word of God into an empirically palpable love that transcends our desires for comfort and protection. Our community seems to be heading into this protectionist direction of conservatism that, although has been prevalent for the last century (at least), continues in the proclamation of sovereignty lost, even in the face of one of the most conservative administrations in decades.

Just the other day I read a couple blogs proclaiming the abomination of homosexuality and how its perversion continues to wrought the very center of our civilization. How many liberal agendas only want to propagate the dreaded homosexual agenda in an attempt to circumvent church authority? That it's this nations growing acceptance of this lifestyle, which is destroying America's moral fabric. Come on!! Can't we as the church face the facts that we suck at exuding grace, love and acceptance? As we protect ourselves from this lifestyle, in which, god forbid we act is if we condone it (because grace is condoning), we condone numerous other so-called lifestyles. How many preachers struggle with pride in such a profound way that their very continuance of pastoral care has the very real potential to destroy lives, forever turning them away from the church? How about the everyday joe and jane, don't we contend with this same issue? I know my arrogance in the past (and unfortunately the present) has alienated many from the church, but my sin wasn't resting his hand in mine. Sin of the straight individual rests on the periphery; easily dismissed, never actually hindering the "progression" of church. "What if" I was to walk into church (Episcopalians you are exempt from this...there is an entirely different discussion here), hand in hand with "my lover", wouldn't the mind's of many (including leadership, especially leadership) process many a thought consisting of a grace laden with stipulations like, nice, but we don't condone homosexuality.

Scriptures mention the evil of a pride filled lifestyle more than any other sin; yet we are becoming harbingers of exclusivity, creating communities where pride is displayed in our attempt at protection instead of exuding a propensity towards becoming inclusive. The common rhetoric of acceptance is wrought with the same nationalistic discourse promulgated in near Eastern nations at the turn of the century. For them, success was arrival, arrival into the middle class. In today’s church, success resides in the unwed mother's marriage, perfect attendance and her ability to help with the kids’ ministry; not her unswerving devotion to her child, noble attempts at attendance and desire to learn of her Lord before service. A gay couple comes to church finding success when their union is dissolved, publicly admitting the very "evident" choice in the matter, entering into service. My point is that we seem to derive qualitative matters through quantitative means, when grace is neither. It cannot be qualified, and it especially can't be quantified.

Westboro Baptist Church has a website, check it out, and you might understand my angst.


Spring Break

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When I was younger the thought of Spring break always conjured up images of dew cutting, one last session to strap on your board at the Mammoth trip, the subsequent dusting off of flip-flops and Easter. It was always an exciting time. Summer was around the corner and all around seem to embrace each other as family. The miracle of the ascension became palpable as a collective; and clothing so bright seem to make its way to the fore. It was a holiday meant for the flip-flop. Slide those puppies on; wear some nice jeans and a bright shirt, and you were set.

Conversely, as I grew older the trips faded, the dew stopped cutting, and Spring break never seem to rest alongside Easter. As if it wasn't needed; like it wasn't even about Easter. Just randomly place a break: Here, there, anywhere, it's just a break. But man this break happened faster than I had expected. Hell, it's not even Spring yet. So why the break?

As much as I've studied, writing lists as to not miss a beat, to be prepared, this break seems to have sprung; and I am at a lose for words. It is cold outside and the flip-flops need to wait.


About me

  • I'm joel
  • From Boston, Massachusetts, US
  • ---this area chronicles the impact of art, literature, and socio-politcal narratives that cause me to think critically while fully comprehending my ability to embrace the grace in being dead wrong.
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