U2 has made more rock and roll

I'm probably the last person to know, but U2's new album is now available on their MySpace site. I was half-listening to it at work yesterday. It has not grabbed me yet as most of their previous albums have, but Bono's voice and the Edge's guitar remain something like old friends, familiar noises I heard over and over as I discovered rock and roll as a teenager. I'm sure I will buy it.

By the way, a question for the powers that be: is it still cool to like U2? I know the key to being hip is being, like, totally over things. The quicker you are over something, the hipper you are. I know, in the past decade, Bono was doing a lot of things: making platinum, award-winning albums, trying to save Africa and spreaking at universities, so a lot of hip magazines and people were over him. Can I be cool if I'm not over him, or his band, yet? I mean, I still try to give a lot of love to bands you may not have heard of, particular if I personally know people in them (please see the "listen" section on the left-hand side of your screen). But I still love me some U2.

Let it Mellow

From the high minded to the very low minded:

Les Miserables remains one of my favorite books, as long as it's the full, 1400 page, unabridged version. I like it especially for those poetic rabbit trails that could last for hundreds of pages, whether describing Waterloo or the character of a particular priest or even the Paris sewer system. Les Mis contains the first argument I have seen for using human excrement to fertilize crops instead of dumping it all downriver. 150 years later, more are arguing for it.

Rose George argues in the New York Times that our environment and food production could be improvied through the use of a double compartment toilet that the Swedes already use. Perhaps it is a subject we would prefer not to spend too much time thinking about. But read her arguments, if you dare - they will give you some pause. It might be a good idea. (Although, we guys will still find a way to stand)

Joyous Lent

Today, I thought a funny Facebook status line would be: "Happy Lent! ...oh, wait..." But fearing that I might offend God-fearers who may not appreciate my self-depreciating since of irony, I held off. I still feel new at the Lent thing. Many of my colleagues are Catholic, and they sat at their desks with a thumb print smeared between their eye all day. I tried not to stare. Besides, my Anglican Service was after work, and my ashes have just recently stopped itching (they're still there, though). I'm still new at lent, since the awkward but reflective post from two years ago.

Tommy preached a great Ash Wednesday Sermon. Hopefully it will be on the church website soon. He brought us to Psalm 51, David's Psalm of repentance, which we read together every lent. And he reminded us that the purpose of repentance, beyond fasting and charity, is the joy of the Lord. The deep joy of being truly known, of being cleansed and of being forgiven. This is the joy of our salvation that David described. If you don't know this, I would say try it, but I can't. It's not something you just try. It's something that you throw yourself into. You can flirt with religion, go through rituals and think about God and good vibes. But at the end, to taste the deeper joy, you repent and believe, and that is to truly plunge yourself into it.

So I should not say happy lent. But whatever somberness, ashes and repentance there is, may it be of the true kind that leads you to joy.

Peanuts

Every once in awhile, I'll find something interesting on the internet and email it to myself with the heading "blog idea." As you can imagine, I have more "blog idea" emails in my inbox than I actually have blogs. Often, they go out of date. The shelf life for blog ideas is about as long as your average attention span.

Here is a few week old article from the New York Times, that, much like its subject, has withstood the test of time. I have always loved the funny-pages. I still do, though I don't think there are any great comics since Calvin and Hobbes and The Far Side no longer run (and whenever I need to cheer myself up, you can find on the couch, shoes off, laughing as Calvin picks himself up from a tiger-pounce).

Peanuts, of course, is the granddaddy of the American comic. Few strips manage to be that honest and consistent for so long. For instance, take a look at this article on "Peanuts scholars" examining Schroeder's musical scores. Who knew a comic could have scholars? These sort of stories demand that Sunday afternoons be much longer.

Creation Wedding

My wife and I shared a few laughs about the American wedding industry when we got married last year. As a woman, she wanted a beautiful wedding of course (and decried the outrageous cost of flowers in the U.S.), but as a German, she was immune from the idea, implicit in every bridal magazine, that the perfect marriage required the perfect wedding. Perfect does not mean, of course, the perfect amount of family and friends being blessed my Gospel truth and holy union. Perfect means that every decoration, cloth, cake and peace of food amounts to some sort of geometric ideal (which is quite expensive).

The dream of a beautiful wedding, with holy symbolism and holy union, remains, and I was encouraged when my wife forwarded me Luz's blog. In Luz's dream wedding, each of the bridesmaids represent a day of Creation from Genesis 1. The climax, of course, is day six, when God made man "in his own image his own image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them." The bride and groom, glorious and beautiful (I should point out, not naked as in the original account) emerge. Take a look at the drawings, and let me know what you think.

Genius

I sincerely wish I had thought of this first. Nothing for Ungood is an American blog about Germany that is as humorous as I try to be. John, you are a genius. Meine Frau hat auch gelacht.

Advice on drink from an experienced drinker

The New York Times has an online blog called "Proof," examining "alcohol and the American life." I have not been overly impressed with many of the articles, but Paul Clark, a spirit and cocktails critic from Seattle, has some sage advice about appreciating alcohol. I appreciate his G. K. Chesterton quote:

"The dipsomaniac and the abstainer are not only mistaken, they make the same mistake: They both regard wine as a drug and not a drink."

Burns Supper

Last night, I gave the "toast to the lassies" at a Burns Supper. The text is below. (Everyone should attend a Burns Supper at least once. Haggis, whisky, poetry, song and camaraderie. What could be better?)

First of all, I would like to thank the lovely Fiona for once again hosting another successful, delicious and poetic Burns feast. I feel heartier, manlier, now that I’m “Haggis-fed.” A special thanks to Lisa and her roommates for letting this group of hungry Scots invade her house (for, after all, if everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, would it follow that we are all Scottish for the Burns Supper?). And, finally, biggest thanks of all to whoever brought the wine (whisky), without which no speech, for hearers or speakers, could be tolerated.

When I was asked to say the toast to the lassies, I knew I was in for a tremendous challenge. No man has ever been able to understand, much less explain, much less tame, the fairer sex. Now, I know that many here go to Church of the Resurrection. Rez is the first church I’ve attended to practice (it appears to me at least) ancient liturgy. And as part of a church that appreciates the ancients, I have decided to turn to the church father’s for wisdom regarding women. As we all know, as members of an “ancient-future” church, if a church father has said it, it must be holy.

St. Ambrose –

“It is just and right that woman accepts as lord and master him whom she has led to sin.”

St. John Chrysostom –

“Among all savage beasts, none is found so harmful as woman.”

St. Patrick prays against “the spells of women, and smiths, and druids, against every knowledge that binds the soul of man.”

Yet, St. Thomas Aquinas (who would flee any woman who approached him) aside, our very presence proves that throughout the ages, men have not heeded the advice of their church fathers. They have not avoided the fairer sex as they would vipers. Indeed, for venturing in this very room, where the lassies clearly outnumber the lads, John Chrysostom would have considered me very foolish man indeed. In sum, in spite the wise warnings of church fathers, we men continue to be attracted to women. We can discuss some other time if that is sin.

What is it about you lassies that intoxicates us so much, and in ways that strike fear in the hearts of ancient pastors? Is it adolescent hormones? Is it the biological and evolutionary need to make sure our genes are passed along to the next generation?

While there is certainly truth to these propositions, I would like to propose spiritual grounds for the perseverance of inter-gender relationships.

Look back at Genesis, before the creation of the first couple, we read of God speaking order into chaos. The culmination of his created order was:

“So God created man in his own image, 
in the image of God he created him; 
male and female he created them”

That is nice, isn’t it?

Now, we read on to discover that there was a time, in the original Garden of Eden, where there was man without woman. Can you imagine what the garden must have been like? If there were any decorations at all, they certainly would not have matched. Likely the only furniture was a couple of inflatable chairs advertising Miller-Lite and an old pool table covered with beer-stains, and perhaps a TV leaned up against the tree of life with a random assortment of action and comedy DVDs lying half opened in the flowery meadows. We probably don’t want to think about the state of the Eden bathroom, for that matter. I can imagine God scratching his beard, adjusting his spectacles and musing, “it is not good for man to be alone.”

To bring order into this man-made chaos, an animal would not do. Pets are great, but they would not have brought about the created order. God created a human partner suitable for the task. As the story goes, when Adam first saw Eve standing there, he dropped his video game controller in the grass and said, “whoa, man!” And the rest, as they say, is History.

In short, God has given men few things other than woman to help us grow up. I have known the dirtiest scoundrel become the most proper gentlemen for the sake of the lassies. I’ve seen lads transformed into responsible, contributing men, bringing order into chaos, when they realize the bewitching eyes of woman have fallen upon him.

I am an example of this. This year, I married the fairest lass of them all, who, through grace and love from God only knows where, reached into my manly little world, beer stains (and mustard stains, and marinara stains, mysterious meat stains)and all, and brought me into a sense of things bigger than myself. Indeed, it’s no wonder that Ambrose and John Chrysostom feared something so mysterious and transformative. In one of his more positive poems on marriage, Robert Burns put it this way:

On Wedding Rings 

She asked why wedding rings are made of gold;

I ventured this to instruct her;

Why, madam, love and lightening are the same,

On earth they glance, from Heaven they came.

Love is the soul's electric flame,

And gold its best conductor. 

Whether we happen to be married or single, love of woman, received or given, changes men into something more courageous, orderly and adult.

Now, lassies, I warn you. All this does not mean you will be able to completely change your man (just ask my wife, and the stains she is constantly washing off of my shirts). The story of Adam and Eve does not have a happy ending, and we live in a fallen world. Our beloved Poet’s relationship with women was often over-abundant, to say the least. Yet I read Proverbs 31, the wife of noble character, perhaps, aside from our Lord himself, the best description of a real grown-up I find in the Bible. Liberated, yet committed. Working, in the family and in the community. Devoted, and true to her calling. Loving, in a way that was contagious, especially to her husband.  Much like my own wife, and much like the women of God in this room.

Lassies, this does not excuse you from savagery. This power you have over men has been wielded for evil and pain, and we must often take pity on the lads. But I look around the room, this table, this food, the decorations, the order and beauty – much of what works well in the world not be without the work of woman. It is truly not good for a man to be alone. So all ye rustics, haggis-fed, raise your glasses! I give you, the Lassies!