popular Jesus

While organized religion may be losing popularity among the masses, Jesus apparently is not.  In a recently released public survey, 33% of polled Britons say Jesus Christ is the person they would most like to communicate with from beyond the grave. [FYI, Princess Diana came in second, Shakespeare third]

Intended to promote the third season release of ITV [Independent Television Authority] British sci-fi show Primeval on DVD, the survey surprised pollsters – how exactly the question relates to the show I’ve yet to figure out but I think it has to do with time travel.  One survey spokesman conceded, “These results show that Jesus Christ will always be the British public’s ‘Superstar.’”  I wonder how Americans would answer the same question – humm?

Jesus also showed up today in a Washington Times post by Julia Duin about a new Jesus book out called, “Journeys with the Messiah” by Michael Belk.  It’s a collection of photos of a Jesus with modern day Italians from all walks of life.  Belk told Duin, “I want people to see these images and say, ‘This isn’t about religion, it’s about life.’  The non-churched are frightened by anything that has ‘Jesus’ or ‘church’ connected with it.”

I’m not sure Belk is right about Jesus frightening anyone – but when it comes to ‘church’ that may be a different story.   You can see Belk’s project at thejourneysproject.com.

Another good band

A friend recently told me about the band Neadtobreathe.
To be honest, I’m always getting recomendations from people about new music and bands I “should listen to.” Usually, I check out the leads, but don’t always get excited about what I find. These guys are different – their sound is clean and unique. I like them alot. They’re really good…of course that’s just my opinion. The song Stones Under Rushing Water [video] has struck a particular chord [excuse the pun] with me. What’s really nice is you can check out their Needtobreath website and listen to full length songs for free.

The story

What is the real story? Who are we and why are we? Our world is filled with narratives that seek to explain it all. For me, the one that makes most sense can be summarized quite simply…

God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. [Genesis 1]

What is your story? I think the word’s of Brandi Carlile expresse it nicely – you and I were made by someone and for someone. 

Another trip to the Art Institue

Disturbing yet emotively captivating is how I might describe the unique work of Norwegian artist Edvard Munch [pronounced Moonk]. I spend some time with Margie at The Art Institute of Chicago yesterday staring at it.

There is a good chance Munch’s name is unfamiliar but perhaps his famous painting titled The Scream is recognizable.

As you might surmise from the above painting, Munch’s work is ….well, different.  A good deal of what Munch painted is often connected to his emotional pain and instability.  His convulsed and agonizing art flowed from the misery and conflicts of his day, and, even more significantly perhaps, his own unhappy life.  As one contemporary critic asked, “Is it art or is it inanity?”  Not a bad question when it comes to the guy who gave his paintings titles like, Scream, Melancholy, Jealousy, Anxiety and who said things like, “From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.”

Not all Munch’s work is weird. Actually, there are some exceptionally beautiful pieces in his collection. If you can get to see it – go.

Anxiety

jersey boy

I’m not a big movie watcher neither am I a professional wrestling fan – so a movie about professional wrestling is nowhere on my radar UNLESS of course it’s about a New Jersey wrestler and The Boss does some of the music.

Ok…the truth is I haven’t seen the movie and probably won’t – but the song “The Wrestler” is at worth a listen. It is classic Springsteen – which some of you will love and others will hate. For me?  I like it.  Why? I guess you can take the boy out of Jersey but you can’t take the Jersey out of the boy.

The Happiest Day

With the exception of Dr. Seuss and a few assorted limericks, I was never one for poetry when I was young. My son Corey is different. He’s an avid reader and lover of poetry. He recently shared his current favorite with me — reciting portions of it from memory with apparent ease. I was impress both with the poem and more significantly with him. The poem he recited is entitled The Happiest day by Linda Pastan.

It was early May, I think
a moment of lilac or dogwood
when so many promises are made
it hardly matters if a few are broken.
My mother and father still hovered
in the background, part of the scenery
like the houses I had grown up in,
and if they would be torn down later
that was something I knew
but didn’t believe. Our children were asleep
or playing, the youngest as new
as the new smell of the lilacs,
and how could I have guessed
their roots were shallow
and would be easily transplanted.
I didn’t even guess that I was happy.
The small irritations that are like salt
on melon were what I dwelt on,
though in truth they simply
made the fruit taste sweeter.
So we sat on the porch
in the cool morning, sipping
hot coffee. Behind the news of the day–
strikes and small wars, a fire somewhere–
I could see the top of your dark head
and thought not of public conflagrations
but of how it would feel on my bare shoulder.
If someone could stop the camera then…
if someone could only stop the camera
and ask me: are you happy?
perhaps I would have noticed
how the morning shone in the reflected
color of lilac. Yes, I might have said
and offered a steaming cup of coffee.

divine poetic genius

I came across this reflection on Christmas describing the personal epiphany Bono had just after returning home, to Dublin, from a long tour with U2. On Christmas Eve he went to the famous St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where Jonathan Swift was dean. Apparently he was given a really poor seat, one obstructed by a pillar, making it even more difficult for him to keep his eyes open…but it was there that the Christmas story struck him like never before. He writes:

“The idea that God, if there is a force of Logic and Love in the universe, that it would seek to explain itself is amazing enough. That it would seek to explain itself and describe itself by becoming a child born in straw poverty, in s**t and straw…a child… I just thought: “Wow!” Just the poetry … Unknowable love, unknowable power, describes itself as the most vulnerable. There it was. I was sitting there, and it’s not that it hadn’t struck me before, but tears came streaming down my face, and I saw the genius of this, utter genius of picking a particular point in time and deciding to turn on this.”

The poetry and genius of Christmas – a narrative only God could truly imagine.

Here is Bono singing U2 Christmas..

It’s officially fall

My favorite time of year has arrived today – Autumn or as Robert Frost called it “After Apple Picking”

My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the water-trough,
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and reappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
And I keep hearing from the cellar-bin
That rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking; I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall,
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised, or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.

a story of community

DISCLAIMER: recommending movies is not my thing. However.

I watched a movie last night…the first of my summer vacation. My expectations were low but it was recommended by a friend so I figured – why not?  Lars And The Real Girl surprised me. I liked it a lot. Call me crazy but it is a film about community in the truest biblical sense. 

There is no way to explain the plot and have it not sound goofy, weird or mildly perverted but this film is anything but foul or foolish. I watched it twice simply to experience the humor and humanity of the story of an entire town that rallies around a friend in need.

If you’ve seen the trailers – don’t let them fool you. The film has depth both artistically and morally. An early scene shows Lars sitting in a Sunday worship service at his church while the pastor’s words are heard in the background, “In this world there is only one true law. The Lord told us what to do – to love one another.” Apparently Lars’ community understood what the Lord meant.

Not a lot of movies make me think about Scripture. This one did.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

Getting cultured

 
At the encouragement of my wife, I spent one evening last week at the Chicago Art Institute. There are two special exhibits currently on display – both American Artists. It’s not like I’ve never been to the institute before…I’m just not a regular attender. I’m glad I went. Very cool and interesting stuff [the official RK critical assessment]. Anyone else familiar with these two artists?  Here are two of my favorite works…

Winslow Homer  1836-1910  Watercolor Dimensions      “Apple Picking”

Edward Hopper  1882-1967  Oil and Watercolors           “Nighthawks”

 

“The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.” – Michelangelo