Our good friends, Eric & Shelly, loaned us with high recommendation, The Jesus of Suburbia: Have We Tamed the Son of God to Fit Our Lifestyle? by Mike Erre. They sent us their copy just days after we arrived from Ukraine (with lots of other things for Dietrich and Josie, of course). With all of the other books that I brought home to read and study, I wasn't sure when, or even if, I was going to get to it. But I picked it up yesterday and haven't been able to put it down. I should be done by the close of the weekend. It's very readable but, at the same time, a strong challenge to some of our 21st century Western conceptions of Jesus and Christianity. It helps immensely to have had Mike as a classmate in seminary and to have seen his dynamic oratory style. Images of him preaching the text make it much more alive than it would otherwise be. In any case, the book confronts our culture with the cost of true discipleship and challenges people to put their faith in the Biblical Jesus, not in the mass-marketed, feel-good, meet-my-needs Jesus so prevalent today.
In chapter 2, there is a section about God's will. I think many Christians (including myself for a good stint of my adulthood), at some point, feel the anxiety of whether or not they are doing God's will, stress over how best to know God's will or fear what will happen if they do something outside of God's will. A deep trust in God's sovereignty and several attentive reads through Scripture should help relieve most of these anxieties, stresses and fears. That, and keeping in mind these words from Mike …
"God is more committed to having you walk in his will than you are … Pharaohs stood against God and failed; Nazis and communists have tried to stamp out God's movement and succeeded only in spreading it farther; Caesars and Herods have shaken their fists at God, but no one has ever been able to stop the purposes of God in history. Why then, if we believe God to be that powerful, do we think we can so easily miss doing his will? God is so good, so sovereign, and so caring that he will reveal his will to us if our hearts are open. There are no magic formulas to this, no seven-step lists to memorize, no guaranteed incantations. There is just the simple trust that God will lead us where he wants us to go and we cannot miss it if we simply keep our eyes open." (p. 30-31)
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Just to Wrap Things Up
For the 4th straight postseason appearance, the Angels have been embarrassing to watch. We've been demolished by the opposition — 3 of the 4 times by the Red Sox, hence the hatred — making commentators and critics talk about how much of a fluke it is that we were even in the playoffs. Our lineup and offensive approach get criticized, Mike Scioscia gets labeled an imbecile and Vladimir Guerrero goes home without a World Series ring. It's all very sad, especially when you're coming off the winningest season the Angel franchise has ever known. But, given the events of the previous post, this season's end isn't all that painful; my focus has been understandably elsewhere. I'm only now starting to sit down to watch the game with interest. Needless to say, I'm presently a raging fan of the Rays and yesterday's 9 to 1 victory over the Sox was delightful. Hail Tampa Bay! Of course, I'm already counting the days to next April and am hoping for a great start to the 2009 season for my beloved Halos. I must say, as frustrating as our postseason play has been since 2002, I prefer it to the postseasonlessness of my late 20th century Angels. Dashed hopes are better than no hope at all, in baseball life, at least.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Infinitely Greater Degrees of Everything
It’s not yet been a month and it seems like we’ve been through a year’s worth of experience. On September 16, we found out that the precious little baby that we were expecting, then 20 weeks old, had a 50 percent chance of having Trisomy 18, an almost always fatal genetic disorder. After an ultrasound and consultation with doctors and specialists, we decided to take our home service early and come to the States on September 27. It was discouraging to think about not being in Kyiv for the rest of the semester. I would miss meeting the new students for this year, miss two Talbot-Kyiv Extension sessions and would have to give my Theology IV class (covering pneumatology, ecclesiology and eschatology) to another colleague to teach. But being present for and participating in those things was not worth the prospect of miscarrying the baby in Ukraine and not being around family, friends and our own culture, were such a thing to happen. Heading home was a much easier decision to make than I expected it to be.
But then, on September 25, we went in for one last Ukrainian ultrasound for no other reason than to see the baby one more time before heading to the States. Our hearts were crushed to see our little baby motionless and without that wonderfully fast-paced and ever-so-comforting baby heartbeat. Exactly what we had been hoping and praying against had happened. Our baby had died and we had to deliver him in a Ukrainian hospital that didn’t have an adequate translator and that was thousands of miles from those with whom we would most want to be during a tragic time like this.
We cancelled our return tickets and got Josie settled into the hospital to start the birthing process. The days were long and tiring, especially the ones where I took Dietrich on a 3-4 hour roundtrip ride to see his mommy. God’s greatest blessing during this time was the presence of dear friends Jon and Andrea and their daughter, Joy, who happened to be headed to Kyiv when we heard the news. They graciously extended their stay by 5 days in order to care for Dietrich while I was with Josie in the hospital. (In Dietrich-speak they are now affectionately referred to as Dzat, Anana and Bwueah.) With the exception of the night that Josie gave birth, I made sure I was home in time to put Dietrich to bed, and I slept near him to make sure he was still able to get some dad time during the hard days without mom. It was so hard to lay down at night with Dietrich, knowing that Josie was on the other side of the city, grieving alone.
Then came the life-altering night of Andrei Elijah’s birth. When we went to bed Monday night, Josie’s contractions kept her from actually falling asleep, but I was out like a light. I was startled awake by Josie calling my name. The baby was coming and, being so small, he came very quickly, at about 1:00 AM on September 30. There were some necessary follow-up procedures that took place, followed by 30 of the most bittersweet minutes of mine on this earth. We spent these moments with little Andrei in tears and pain, but cherishing every one as they would be our only time physically and tangibly with him. Every part of him was so small and so full of possibility, but the life was gone. His little arms and littler hands, little legs and littler feet, and his beautiful, beautiful eyes had moved all they were going to. It was painful to give him back to the nurse, knowing that we wouldn’t see him again and knowing that our only memories of Andrei outside the womb would be those we had just had. Heart-wrenching, indeed. We said good-bye to our precious second son, called each of our parents to tell them what had happened and then cried ourselves to sleep at about 3:30 AM.
The days since Andrei’s birth have been indescribable, but I’ll do my best. We finally did wrap things up in Kyiv and made it back to the States on October 5. We’ve enjoyed setting up our temporary home in a trailer on Josie’s parents’ property and especially watching Dietrich have fun on the farm with goats, sheep, cows, Rosie the family dog and, of course, Baba and Papa Miller. He goes to bed exhausted from very active and fun-filled days. But then there are the things that remind us of Andrei, things that make immediately present the pain and loss. Some of these are expected, like when we sit down at the end of the day and look at the pictures that we have of him. Others come out of nowhere and blindside us. While driving home from the airport last Sunday night, the song “You Are My Sunshine” came on and everyone but me started to sing it in an attempt to keep Dietrich awake until we got home. For some reason, I burst into tears thinking about the sentiment of that song’s chorus in relation to sweet Andrei. Now I can’t even think about that song without tearing up. It’s too bad we sing it to Dietrich all the time.
So, we’ve experienced an excruciating month, however, our God has proven Himself close to comfort and ever faithful as we mourn the loss of Andrei. I’ve noticed 4 areas in particular where I’m recognizing, feeling and experiencing things that I’ve never recognized, felt or experienced before, at least not to this degree. Each of them comes from the Lord’s good Hand and it would be improper of me to mention the pain of our experience and not God’s provision in the midst of it all. Here they are, in no particular order:
The Pain of Death
This is an obvious one, but, until Andrei, I had not lost anyone really close to me in such a sudden manner. Cancer and old age have taken many a loved one, but they haven’t come as shockingly in my family as Andrei’s death has to me. Those first days when his death was only a possibility, I held out hope. We have an all-powerful, all-good God, and I had no doubt that He was in sovereign control of our baby. And I didn’t want to grieve without reason, so I prayed and waited expectantly. The Biblical teaching on prayer gave me no other option. Seeing him lifeless on the ultrasound hit me like a ton of bricks. Holding him after he was born hit me like a megaton. There was almost a physical pain that accompanied the emotional pain as we sat there holding a little boy who should be alive and still developing in his mother’s womb. The pain of death is tangibly real to me now.
Hatred of Sin
Sin is the ultimate reason for Andrei’s death. Not my sin or Josie’s sin in particular, but sin in general. We live in a sin-marred, pain-ridden world where dysfunction, death and decay should either not exist, or should not plague humanity the way they do (depending on your creation perspective). God’s handiwork longs for the day when things like genetic disorders will be eradicated and the world will function as it was originally designed (this is at the core of our millennial hope). That sin has manifested itself in taking the life of our son, and I hope to never think of sin in the same way again. As a result of creation’s rebellion against God, our world is cursed. And while God’s grace, salvation in Christ and the Holy Spirit’s indwelling presence allow us to fight against the curse in many ways, we still participate in death-causing rebellion every time we sin. The death of my son will be an ever-present reminder of how serious sin is and will stimulate and strengthen me in the moment-by-moment struggle against it.
Love for Family
As hard as it was to hold Andrei’s lifeless body in my hands, Josie held him inside her. For about 20 weeks she carried him as he grew and developed and was able to feel the first few kicks before he died. I will never know what this is like, but I do know that Josie has a connection with Andrei that I don’t, and that the pain is real to her in a dramatically different way than it is to me. To see her love and concern for Andrei deepens my love for her. The pain of losing him makes her presence that much more precious to me.
And then there is Dietrich. In the presence of a baby who has died, the life of a healthy baby takes on a whole new meaning. Every petty display of my impatience or frustration with Dietrich sickens me now that I have a sense of what life could be like without him. His every move and every word take on a whole new quality and character as manifestations of real life. And very few things are as hard as telling Dietrich how sorry I am about his brother’s death. Josie and I are not the only ones deprived of Andrei; Dietrich has lost someone too, even if he doesn’t yet comprehend it. Oh, how I love my wonderful little boy.
Trust in God
Finally, I am forced by this experience to bow, broken and humbled, before by my all-wise and all-controlling God, my only source of stability in the midst of such heartache. Only He can or will know why Andrei died and, because He is God and I am just a man, that has to be OK with me. And it is OK with me. My faith has been and will be tested as we struggle through the loss of Andrei but, at this point, I can say that God has proven Himself more trustworthy and poured out His lovingkindness on us more lavishly, not less, in the last month. I don’t question and am not angry about God’s decision to allow Andrei’s death. That doesn’t make the pain any less, but it does mean that, at the end of the day, I can say, as my wife did here, “It is well with my soul.” God is faithful, and this is especially important to believe when things are bad. I’m thankful that He is proving Himself such to us at this time.
But then, on September 25, we went in for one last Ukrainian ultrasound for no other reason than to see the baby one more time before heading to the States. Our hearts were crushed to see our little baby motionless and without that wonderfully fast-paced and ever-so-comforting baby heartbeat. Exactly what we had been hoping and praying against had happened. Our baby had died and we had to deliver him in a Ukrainian hospital that didn’t have an adequate translator and that was thousands of miles from those with whom we would most want to be during a tragic time like this.
We cancelled our return tickets and got Josie settled into the hospital to start the birthing process. The days were long and tiring, especially the ones where I took Dietrich on a 3-4 hour roundtrip ride to see his mommy. God’s greatest blessing during this time was the presence of dear friends Jon and Andrea and their daughter, Joy, who happened to be headed to Kyiv when we heard the news. They graciously extended their stay by 5 days in order to care for Dietrich while I was with Josie in the hospital. (In Dietrich-speak they are now affectionately referred to as Dzat, Anana and Bwueah.) With the exception of the night that Josie gave birth, I made sure I was home in time to put Dietrich to bed, and I slept near him to make sure he was still able to get some dad time during the hard days without mom. It was so hard to lay down at night with Dietrich, knowing that Josie was on the other side of the city, grieving alone.
Then came the life-altering night of Andrei Elijah’s birth. When we went to bed Monday night, Josie’s contractions kept her from actually falling asleep, but I was out like a light. I was startled awake by Josie calling my name. The baby was coming and, being so small, he came very quickly, at about 1:00 AM on September 30. There were some necessary follow-up procedures that took place, followed by 30 of the most bittersweet minutes of mine on this earth. We spent these moments with little Andrei in tears and pain, but cherishing every one as they would be our only time physically and tangibly with him. Every part of him was so small and so full of possibility, but the life was gone. His little arms and littler hands, little legs and littler feet, and his beautiful, beautiful eyes had moved all they were going to. It was painful to give him back to the nurse, knowing that we wouldn’t see him again and knowing that our only memories of Andrei outside the womb would be those we had just had. Heart-wrenching, indeed. We said good-bye to our precious second son, called each of our parents to tell them what had happened and then cried ourselves to sleep at about 3:30 AM.
The days since Andrei’s birth have been indescribable, but I’ll do my best. We finally did wrap things up in Kyiv and made it back to the States on October 5. We’ve enjoyed setting up our temporary home in a trailer on Josie’s parents’ property and especially watching Dietrich have fun on the farm with goats, sheep, cows, Rosie the family dog and, of course, Baba and Papa Miller. He goes to bed exhausted from very active and fun-filled days. But then there are the things that remind us of Andrei, things that make immediately present the pain and loss. Some of these are expected, like when we sit down at the end of the day and look at the pictures that we have of him. Others come out of nowhere and blindside us. While driving home from the airport last Sunday night, the song “You Are My Sunshine” came on and everyone but me started to sing it in an attempt to keep Dietrich awake until we got home. For some reason, I burst into tears thinking about the sentiment of that song’s chorus in relation to sweet Andrei. Now I can’t even think about that song without tearing up. It’s too bad we sing it to Dietrich all the time.
So, we’ve experienced an excruciating month, however, our God has proven Himself close to comfort and ever faithful as we mourn the loss of Andrei. I’ve noticed 4 areas in particular where I’m recognizing, feeling and experiencing things that I’ve never recognized, felt or experienced before, at least not to this degree. Each of them comes from the Lord’s good Hand and it would be improper of me to mention the pain of our experience and not God’s provision in the midst of it all. Here they are, in no particular order:
The Pain of Death
This is an obvious one, but, until Andrei, I had not lost anyone really close to me in such a sudden manner. Cancer and old age have taken many a loved one, but they haven’t come as shockingly in my family as Andrei’s death has to me. Those first days when his death was only a possibility, I held out hope. We have an all-powerful, all-good God, and I had no doubt that He was in sovereign control of our baby. And I didn’t want to grieve without reason, so I prayed and waited expectantly. The Biblical teaching on prayer gave me no other option. Seeing him lifeless on the ultrasound hit me like a ton of bricks. Holding him after he was born hit me like a megaton. There was almost a physical pain that accompanied the emotional pain as we sat there holding a little boy who should be alive and still developing in his mother’s womb. The pain of death is tangibly real to me now.
Hatred of Sin
Sin is the ultimate reason for Andrei’s death. Not my sin or Josie’s sin in particular, but sin in general. We live in a sin-marred, pain-ridden world where dysfunction, death and decay should either not exist, or should not plague humanity the way they do (depending on your creation perspective). God’s handiwork longs for the day when things like genetic disorders will be eradicated and the world will function as it was originally designed (this is at the core of our millennial hope). That sin has manifested itself in taking the life of our son, and I hope to never think of sin in the same way again. As a result of creation’s rebellion against God, our world is cursed. And while God’s grace, salvation in Christ and the Holy Spirit’s indwelling presence allow us to fight against the curse in many ways, we still participate in death-causing rebellion every time we sin. The death of my son will be an ever-present reminder of how serious sin is and will stimulate and strengthen me in the moment-by-moment struggle against it.
Love for Family
As hard as it was to hold Andrei’s lifeless body in my hands, Josie held him inside her. For about 20 weeks she carried him as he grew and developed and was able to feel the first few kicks before he died. I will never know what this is like, but I do know that Josie has a connection with Andrei that I don’t, and that the pain is real to her in a dramatically different way than it is to me. To see her love and concern for Andrei deepens my love for her. The pain of losing him makes her presence that much more precious to me.
And then there is Dietrich. In the presence of a baby who has died, the life of a healthy baby takes on a whole new meaning. Every petty display of my impatience or frustration with Dietrich sickens me now that I have a sense of what life could be like without him. His every move and every word take on a whole new quality and character as manifestations of real life. And very few things are as hard as telling Dietrich how sorry I am about his brother’s death. Josie and I are not the only ones deprived of Andrei; Dietrich has lost someone too, even if he doesn’t yet comprehend it. Oh, how I love my wonderful little boy.
Trust in God
Finally, I am forced by this experience to bow, broken and humbled, before by my all-wise and all-controlling God, my only source of stability in the midst of such heartache. Only He can or will know why Andrei died and, because He is God and I am just a man, that has to be OK with me. And it is OK with me. My faith has been and will be tested as we struggle through the loss of Andrei but, at this point, I can say that God has proven Himself more trustworthy and poured out His lovingkindness on us more lavishly, not less, in the last month. I don’t question and am not angry about God’s decision to allow Andrei’s death. That doesn’t make the pain any less, but it does mean that, at the end of the day, I can say, as my wife did here, “It is well with my soul.” God is faithful, and this is especially important to believe when things are bad. I’m thankful that He is proving Himself such to us at this time.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
And Boy, How It's Lasted!
Since my last post the Angels have continued to play outstanding baseball. They clinched the AL West many days ago. Frankie Rodriguez broke the all time saves record for a single season. And our offense picked up just as our pitching started to cool down. (I know that giving Frankie so many save opportunities means that we are not blowing other teams away offensively, but I'm content to celebrate the achievement and enjoy the excitement of close games while turning a blind eye to that criticism.) Of course, all of this is overshadowed by some disheartening news that will come to you shortly. But, in those moments when a positive distraction is in order, the Angels continue to provide. Here's to a great, Yankee-less post season!
Friday, August 1, 2008
On Enjoying It While It Lasts
This could end anytime, so I better get all the mileage out of it that I can ...
-The Angels have won 8 of their last 10 games.
-The Angels swept the Red Sox, outscoring them 22-9.
-The Angels opened a 4-game series against the Yankees by beating them 12-6.
-The Angels have the best record in baseball.
-The Angels lead the AL West by more games than all other division leaders combined.
-Garrett Anderson got 4 hits in each of the last 2 games.
-John Lackey got within 2 outs of no-hitting the Red Sox.
-Torii Hunter hit a 3-run home run against the Yankees last night.
-Juan Rivera hit a 3-run home run against the Yankees last night.
-Vladimir Guerrero hit a 3-run home run against the Yankees last night.
Sure, I'm really upset that we traded Casey Kotchman for Mark Teixeira. Kotchman is playing great baseball right now and really fits the Angels' persona. The fact that Garrett Anderson is sad to see him go is a sign that it may have been a bad move. Another factor is all of the heartache Teixeira caused us when he was a Ranger. I hated it when he came to bat! But, when all is said and done, Teixeira is a better and more proven player and we're a slightly better team with him on the field and in the lineup. So, given that, and the 10 exciting things listed above, it's great to be an Angel fan right now.
Go Halos!!!
-The Angels have won 8 of their last 10 games.
-The Angels swept the Red Sox, outscoring them 22-9.
-The Angels opened a 4-game series against the Yankees by beating them 12-6.
-The Angels have the best record in baseball.
-The Angels lead the AL West by more games than all other division leaders combined.
-Garrett Anderson got 4 hits in each of the last 2 games.
-John Lackey got within 2 outs of no-hitting the Red Sox.
-Torii Hunter hit a 3-run home run against the Yankees last night.
-Juan Rivera hit a 3-run home run against the Yankees last night.
-Vladimir Guerrero hit a 3-run home run against the Yankees last night.
Sure, I'm really upset that we traded Casey Kotchman for Mark Teixeira. Kotchman is playing great baseball right now and really fits the Angels' persona. The fact that Garrett Anderson is sad to see him go is a sign that it may have been a bad move. Another factor is all of the heartache Teixeira caused us when he was a Ranger. I hated it when he came to bat! But, when all is said and done, Teixeira is a better and more proven player and we're a slightly better team with him on the field and in the lineup. So, given that, and the 10 exciting things listed above, it's great to be an Angel fan right now.
Go Halos!!!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
On Over-spiritualizing Things
When I was a kid, maybe 5 or 6 years old, I went to the local Lutheran Church with my grandparents. I remember odd things like playing with the kneelers (to the annoyance of everyone in the row), going up to the front of the Church for the children's sermon (I don't remember actually being up front or any of the content of the sermons, of course) and asking my grandma for gum during the service (and her graciously giving me half a stick of Freedent). None of these things explain why I feel warm towards Lutheranism to this very day, that story belongs to another post. This one deals with one other element of a traditional Lutheran Church service that I still vividly remember.
On the wall toward the front of the Church, in plain view of everyone in the congregation, hung a metal (or possibly wooden) sign with slots to easily insert and arrange numbers corresponding to the hymnals in the pew, so that people could find the hymns prior to them being sung. I guess these are called hymn boards, but I surely didn't know that as a kid. I simply had a grand time finding the hymns for the day's service and proudly giving a well-marked hymnal to my grandparents. I'm sure I thought that I deserved that half-stick of gum.
When I got older and started thinking more deeply about worship services and how best to prepare myself for and engage in corporate worship, I grew to appreciate the idea of the hymn board, even though no Church that I'm currently affiliated with uses one. In the days before mass duplication of weekly Church bulletins, it seems like a great way to let people know what hymns would be part of that day's worship. But that's only the pragmatic reason. The spiritual reason for finding the hymn board so impressive is so that people can look up and contemplate the words of the hymns prior to the start of the service. If someone comes to Church about 20 minutes early they can easily meditate on the sermon text for the day (which is posted on the street sign outside of my childhood Lutheran Church) and contemplate the day's hymns in soul-preparation for the day's liturgy. This all seems like it could foster an aura of spiritual preparation. That's the kind of thing lacking in Churches where a large portion of the congregation comes after the service has already started.
But today, as you either know or could have guessed, I found out the real reason for the hymn board. And the reason, while quite remarkable, contains no hint of concern for soul-care. I finished the summer '07 issue of Christian History and Biography, which focuses its attention on the life and work of J.S. Bach. In issues that focus on an individual, Christian History and Biography usually has an article highlighting other influential figures of the time period. In this particular issue, the article highlights Lutheran musicians between Luther and Bach. One of them was Dietrich Buxtehude, a Lutheran composer and organist from the late 17th - early 18th centuries. From here I'll let the author of the article, Carlos Messerli, explain.
"Buxtehude was a virtuoso organist, skilled in improvising. Many of his pieces featured a chorale melody in either simple or highly ornamented arrangements. His very elaborate musical introductions often left the congregation in the dark about exactly which hymn was to be sung next. This confusion led to the practice of posting the hymns (by number) on a board visible to all, a practice that was still common in many churches throughout much of the 20th century." (p.22)
So, I guess I let my imagination get away from me a bit on that one. Not that people can’t use the hymn postings for spiritual preparation; they can and they should. It's just that the original intent wasn't nearly so lofty. Buxtehude indirectly gave us the hymn board, for which I thank him. And I thank the author of the article for pointing out reality, to which I'll allow my beliefs about the hymn board correspond from here on out. But I'll refrain from thanking myself for the over-spiritualizing of the whole thing. In fact, I'll take it as a lesson for the future.
On the wall toward the front of the Church, in plain view of everyone in the congregation, hung a metal (or possibly wooden) sign with slots to easily insert and arrange numbers corresponding to the hymnals in the pew, so that people could find the hymns prior to them being sung. I guess these are called hymn boards, but I surely didn't know that as a kid. I simply had a grand time finding the hymns for the day's service and proudly giving a well-marked hymnal to my grandparents. I'm sure I thought that I deserved that half-stick of gum.
When I got older and started thinking more deeply about worship services and how best to prepare myself for and engage in corporate worship, I grew to appreciate the idea of the hymn board, even though no Church that I'm currently affiliated with uses one. In the days before mass duplication of weekly Church bulletins, it seems like a great way to let people know what hymns would be part of that day's worship. But that's only the pragmatic reason. The spiritual reason for finding the hymn board so impressive is so that people can look up and contemplate the words of the hymns prior to the start of the service. If someone comes to Church about 20 minutes early they can easily meditate on the sermon text for the day (which is posted on the street sign outside of my childhood Lutheran Church) and contemplate the day's hymns in soul-preparation for the day's liturgy. This all seems like it could foster an aura of spiritual preparation. That's the kind of thing lacking in Churches where a large portion of the congregation comes after the service has already started.
But today, as you either know or could have guessed, I found out the real reason for the hymn board. And the reason, while quite remarkable, contains no hint of concern for soul-care. I finished the summer '07 issue of Christian History and Biography, which focuses its attention on the life and work of J.S. Bach. In issues that focus on an individual, Christian History and Biography usually has an article highlighting other influential figures of the time period. In this particular issue, the article highlights Lutheran musicians between Luther and Bach. One of them was Dietrich Buxtehude, a Lutheran composer and organist from the late 17th - early 18th centuries. From here I'll let the author of the article, Carlos Messerli, explain.
"Buxtehude was a virtuoso organist, skilled in improvising. Many of his pieces featured a chorale melody in either simple or highly ornamented arrangements. His very elaborate musical introductions often left the congregation in the dark about exactly which hymn was to be sung next. This confusion led to the practice of posting the hymns (by number) on a board visible to all, a practice that was still common in many churches throughout much of the 20th century." (p.22)
So, I guess I let my imagination get away from me a bit on that one. Not that people can’t use the hymn postings for spiritual preparation; they can and they should. It's just that the original intent wasn't nearly so lofty. Buxtehude indirectly gave us the hymn board, for which I thank him. And I thank the author of the article for pointing out reality, to which I'll allow my beliefs about the hymn board correspond from here on out. But I'll refrain from thanking myself for the over-spiritualizing of the whole thing. In fact, I'll take it as a lesson for the future.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Again with the Red Sox
During last year's MLB playoffs, I wrote a post about how disgusted I was with Red Sox character. Well, they've done it again this season and I'm again disgusted that they are the best team out there. Actually, the offending episode really only involves one player but it's certainly in keeping with what the current Red Sox have proven themselves to be.
I was pretty invested in last year's negative display, mostly because it happened with my Angels on the loosing end of the score card. But last week's violation is bias free because it was against the Tampa Bay Rays, a team I don't give a flying rip about (I kind of give a rip now because I'd love for the Rays to mop the floor with the Sox after this series of incidents). You can watch the following clips to see what happened:
Red Sox vs. Rays, June 4, 2008 — Coco Crisp is "offended," slides dirty and curses like a sailor.
Red Sox vs. Rays, June 5, 2008 — Coco Crisp charges the mound.
Was Coco's first steal inappropriately blocked by the shortstop, Jason Bartlett, or was the block against the rules of the game? Sure. Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. But, Coco did successfully steal the base and Bartlett's block was not so flagrantly inappropriate or so against the rules that any umpires decided to do anything about it. It certainly didn't justify Coco delivering a forearm to the groin of the Rays' second baseman, Akinori Iwamura (not the guy who "inappropriately" blocked Coco earlier!!!), several innings later while trying to steal another base. And the kicker was the shouting match that ensued between Coco and the Rays' manager. What justifies that kind of public outburst when you are the one who started all the dirty stuff in the beginning? Nothing, of course. Not in the game of baseball where we try to keep that kind of thing to a minimum.
And then we have the fight the next night. I must say that the former pro-wrestling/ultimate fighting fan in me gets a little excited when the benches clear. In principle, however, I'm against baseball fights (and not only because baseball players are really poor fighters). So Coco gets hit by Sheilds' pitch, IN THE LEG, and he charges the mound. This is the point at which Coco looses any amount of credibility as the "offended party." If a baseball pitcher wants to throw at you, he can throw right at your head, threatening your life. When he throws at your leg it was more likely an accident than intentional. Maybe Sheilds threw intentionally but, if he did, why charge the mound if he only threw at your leg? Because of your massively inflated ego, that's why. Since baseball players can't fight, no one got hurt physically in the rumble (unless I'm remembering incorrectly), but Coco Crisp, and the Red Sox by association, certainly hurt themselves in the eyes of civilized, morality-conscious baseball fans everywhere (this group, of course, being defined as those that agree with me).
The icing on the cake is that the Rays, who got forearmed in the groin and suspended for being involved in the fighting took all of their suspensions as assigned and did not try to appeal them. Coco Crisp, however, appealed his suspension. I don't care why he did so. I just think that if you're going to dishonor the game with cheap shots, a foul mouth and undisciplined aggression, pay the consequences and move on.
Probably, the Red Sox will make it to the playoffs. And if the Angels make it to the playoffs, the Red Sox will probably beat them. But, even if that happens, at least we won't be the ones who gave the game a black eye for playing like a self-indulgent, narcissistic street gang.
I was pretty invested in last year's negative display, mostly because it happened with my Angels on the loosing end of the score card. But last week's violation is bias free because it was against the Tampa Bay Rays, a team I don't give a flying rip about (I kind of give a rip now because I'd love for the Rays to mop the floor with the Sox after this series of incidents). You can watch the following clips to see what happened:
Red Sox vs. Rays, June 4, 2008 — Coco Crisp is "offended," slides dirty and curses like a sailor.
Red Sox vs. Rays, June 5, 2008 — Coco Crisp charges the mound.
Was Coco's first steal inappropriately blocked by the shortstop, Jason Bartlett, or was the block against the rules of the game? Sure. Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. But, Coco did successfully steal the base and Bartlett's block was not so flagrantly inappropriate or so against the rules that any umpires decided to do anything about it. It certainly didn't justify Coco delivering a forearm to the groin of the Rays' second baseman, Akinori Iwamura (not the guy who "inappropriately" blocked Coco earlier!!!), several innings later while trying to steal another base. And the kicker was the shouting match that ensued between Coco and the Rays' manager. What justifies that kind of public outburst when you are the one who started all the dirty stuff in the beginning? Nothing, of course. Not in the game of baseball where we try to keep that kind of thing to a minimum.
And then we have the fight the next night. I must say that the former pro-wrestling/ultimate fighting fan in me gets a little excited when the benches clear. In principle, however, I'm against baseball fights (and not only because baseball players are really poor fighters). So Coco gets hit by Sheilds' pitch, IN THE LEG, and he charges the mound. This is the point at which Coco looses any amount of credibility as the "offended party." If a baseball pitcher wants to throw at you, he can throw right at your head, threatening your life. When he throws at your leg it was more likely an accident than intentional. Maybe Sheilds threw intentionally but, if he did, why charge the mound if he only threw at your leg? Because of your massively inflated ego, that's why. Since baseball players can't fight, no one got hurt physically in the rumble (unless I'm remembering incorrectly), but Coco Crisp, and the Red Sox by association, certainly hurt themselves in the eyes of civilized, morality-conscious baseball fans everywhere (this group, of course, being defined as those that agree with me).
The icing on the cake is that the Rays, who got forearmed in the groin and suspended for being involved in the fighting took all of their suspensions as assigned and did not try to appeal them. Coco Crisp, however, appealed his suspension. I don't care why he did so. I just think that if you're going to dishonor the game with cheap shots, a foul mouth and undisciplined aggression, pay the consequences and move on.
Probably, the Red Sox will make it to the playoffs. And if the Angels make it to the playoffs, the Red Sox will probably beat them. But, even if that happens, at least we won't be the ones who gave the game a black eye for playing like a self-indulgent, narcissistic street gang.
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