possibilities of peetering along the currents of traveling, finding myself groping for hope among concrete trails...i am overwhelmed by the volume of clutter, singing among saints, and bewildered children. musing in tangles of sighs, laughter and embraces that span greetings and good-byes. deciphering all of this along edges of curses and blessings.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

embrace

miroslav volf's definition of embrace:

"the will to give ourselves to others and 'welcome' them, to readjust our identities to make space for them, is prior to any judgement about others, except that of identifying them in their humanity. the will to embrace precedes any 'truth' about others and any construction of their 'justice.' this will is absolutely indiscriminate and strictly immutable; it transcends the moral mapping of the social world into 'good' and 'evil.'"

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

from "weight of glory"-c.s. lewis

If you asked twenty men today what they thought the highest of the virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you asked almost any of the great Christians of old he would have replied, Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative ideal of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to the desire. If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desire, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. We must not be troubled by the unbelievers when they say that this promise of rewards makes the Christian life a mercenary affair. There are different kinds of rewards. There is the reward which has no natural connection with the things you do to earn it, and is quite foreign to the desire that ought to accompany those things. Money is not the natural reward of love; that is why we call a man a mercenary if he marries a woman for the sake of her money. But marriage is the proper reward for a real lover, and he is not a mercenary for desiring it. A general who fights well in order to get a peerage is a mercenary; a general who fights for victory is not, victory being the proper reward of battle as marriage is the proper reward of love. The proper rewards are not simply tacked on to the activity for which they are given, but are the activity itself in consummation.

a commute

in the fading blurs of faces and tense weight of bodies in movement and static, i ache for forever. something relentless the pursuing of a life that is see in their eyes. we seem so aimless in our pursuit of meaning. a whisper tells me of the fallenness of all of this. it is so meaningless...understanding so little about the beauty of resting in love. to revel in the frameless beauty of jazz, holding hands to comfort, leaning our tired heads on one another, smiling and enter into the paradox of community. where are we going? i ask. i ponder. where are are we going? and all the while, there is this whisper. that says, our lives are latent with love. love. agape.