Learning to Enjoy

I read Peter A. Coclanis' article about Study Abroad's Seven Deadly Sins with a knowing smile on my face. Not because his description of youthful debauchery abroad is my own college/travelling 20-something experience, per se (I went to a party school, yes, but my social life looked more like this than Animal House. No regrets.), but I've worked with students ever since, often in international contexts, and I've seen less dramatic versions of his bad apples. What's more, as an American living abroad, I'm sensitive to whatever image we Yanks have whenever and wherever we trapse around in other countries. We can do better. So, as a thirty-something with two daughters who will soon enough be skipping off on their own youthful adventures, I want to encourage us parents to read and think, especially this last paragraph:

Mature students with purpose and dedication will generally achieve the kind of personal growth so often heralded by study-abroad boosters. Immature students will not, for these programs do not so much build character as reveal it. A foreign country isn’t the place for a childish 20-year-old to grow up, especially when representing an American university. Students and parents, take heed.

Now, mistakes will be made, and these mistakes are often the best teachers (and make the best bar stories later). I, too, internationally open, mature-looking, tame, can look back on my own cringe moments. But even if Coclanis' list of sins are popular enough to forgive years later in the community of shared, laughable regret (I mean, who wants to be the guy at a table without a story to share?), there are dangers beyond hangovers and cultural faux pas. Also, the over-consumption and irresponsible use of good things like drink, sex, and technology isn't confined to foreign campuses. We parents can become good teachers before the teachable moments pile up too high.

So, for those of us raising children in a world of inflating choice, this is a chance to return to some thoughts about excellence in pleasure. I'll take two examples: drink and technology.

I had a professor who suggested making the drinking age 16 and the driving age 18 (that's how it is here in Germany, by the way). His logic was, once you try to bike home drunk, you'll never be stupid enough to drink and drive. Well, drunkenness is not famous for logic, and I question whatever definition of progress neighborhoods full of sloshed sophomores on BMXs fulfills, but I think he has a point for a different reason. Wouldn't it make more sense for young people to learn to drink at home: legally and under the watchful care of adults who know what they're doing?

Moreover, what if alcohol appreciation was a required part of 11th grade rather than a rare elective college course for over-21s? What if they understood much earlier the complexities of a good beer or how wine compliments food? What if they learned at an earlier age to view alcoholic beverages (in Chesterton's immortal words) as a drink and nota drug, that limitations enhance enjoyment and addiction can be avoided. America's blossoming beer culture and wine industry are showing the way already, while our kids our exposed to nothing but Bud commercials. (Note: There's a 16-year old boy in Germany fighting the good fight. Do any American breweries have apprenticeship programs for high schoolers?) Yes, anyone should be able to decline this course due to religious or conscientious objection, and by all means follow your conscience and teach your children to do the same, but treating alcohol like dirty secret only to be revealed as a cheap drug in far-away frat houses isn't doing young people, society, or study abroad programs any favors. And, after all, excellence in pleasure means not needing to rely on any pleasure for your happiness. A student, thus prepared, might find themselves abroad in a culture where the sauce is forbidden and still have the capacity for an enriching and enjoyable experience without touching a drop.

The same thing could be said of technology. Coclanis would ban smart phones if he could. He can't, and I think that's a good thing, but we can help him by raising our children to use technology well, and even when we're disoriented by the tech world's ever-changing landscape. My six-year old is growing up in a world that befuddles me more with every new adaption. My early-adaptor friend Justin has been evangelizing SnapChat to us old fogies who still think Twitter is modern, and for my daughters' sake, I'm starting to listen.

For my sake, I'd rather not. The only reason I knew about SnapChat, or at least knew SnapChat was the latest thing, is that I give private English lessons to teenagers. When I struck up a conversation about social media (an ESL trick is to explore topics of interest to elicit conversation without being boring), I quickly learned that Facebook is for dads, SnapChat's where it's at, and that I needed a different conversation topic.

What I've seen of SnapChat doesn't appeal to me, but I can understand it's appeal to teenagers. The temporary videos, the switching graphics, the crazy editing - it's like a digital house of mirrors. It's a ceaseless barrage of crazy images, which contrasts with my love of words, glorious bare words that leave the rest to the imagination (at least the Onion understands me).  This carnival atmosphere might explain SnapChat's generation and personality gap. As Facebook's grown from a playground for students to an adult-centered shopping mall with political graffiti, it makes sense that the young people want to run off to the carnival and use technology for regret-free silliness. I watch all the movements and get queasy; I feel the same way when I'm at a real carnival and I see teenagers devour chilli-dogs before hopping on the whirl-a-rama.

But in a few teensy years, my daughters will be exploring the carnival themselves. It's helpful, then, if I also know what's out there, so that I can help them navigate these pleasures with excellence. I've had a lot of helpful conversation with other parents whose kids are already of smart phone age, and it is a challenge for those of us who grew up with AOL and Gateway computers. But it means a patient, loving engagement, not to spy, but to understand the world they're entering, and help them use it in a way that it doesn't use them.

The marketers and the adults are descending on SnapChat, so I figure by the time my kids are old enough it'll be passe and the carnival will have moved elsewhere. But it will be there, and I pray I'll be able to help them use it well.

Humans, learning, and morality are complex, so there's no guarantee that any of this will spell maturity in travelling twenty-somethings. Sometimes it takes a horrible mistake for us to actually learn, so it's not all hopeless. It's a worthy pursuit. Excellence in pleasure, in this world, means "walking in the light" as the Apostle Paul instructs us. Coclani's description of fleshy immaturity reminds me of another phrase from Paul, this time condemning: "their god is their belly." What other gods have we been invited to follow, day in and day out? Excellence in pleasure suggests there's another.

Loving Language in a Time of Commerce (or Happy National Grammar Day)

Once, when I taught upper-intermediate English to a design team at a major German auto company, one of my students showed me a grammar mistake in an email from an American colleague. This group of students was advanced enough for me to run a pretty tight ship, grammar-wise, so he was a bit amused that his native-speaker colleague would make the sort of grammar faux pas I would always pounce on during class.

Of course, the grammar mistake wasn't all that important. It didn't inhibit communication in anyway; the colleagues could continue business as normal. In commerce, it's clear communication that counts. I even read, in a Business English textbook of all places, that poorly-written emails are a sign of someone moving up the corporate ladder. Well-written emails reveal someone with too much time on their hands, but non-capitalized words clumsily spat out on a smart phone - that's a person with places to be.

Still, I loved unpacking little grammar secrets and the purposes of "why-we-do-this-when-in-German-you-do-that" mutual detective games in my English classes. It was great fun. But at the end of the day, I know that the need for international business is not elegance but to just do enough to overcome Babel, even if it ain't always pretty.  (I consider "ain't" a pretty part of the English language, but that could be a byproduct of my Appalachian)

This is thrilling, of course. There's communication! People who once may have never understood each other understand each other now! This also part of the dual nature of being an ESL teacher. I love language, especially written prose, but I also love it when people use language as is, discovering different channels and springs of communication along the way in our eternal effort to be understood.

This is partly why I blog, because my own electronic scribble creations are an outlet for me. There's a danger, though. I so wish I could be a real grammar snob and publicly rage against those native-English writers who fail to achieve every literal jot and tittle. For me, a fun way to spend the afternoon is a comma discussion by way of a memoir on the website for America's best source for all things prose. But a blog is a bad way to brag, especially about grammar. I bet, in fact, that as soon as I upload this, regardless of rereads by my wife and me, some grammar mistake will pop out like a pimple on my website, and a real grammar snob, if he had even bothered to read that far, would have to bite his fist to stop screaming. My writing goes on in fits and starts, a patch here, a paragraph here, an idea that occurred to me when I should have been thinking about something else, months of busyness when ideas collect like pollen waiting for the Spring, and some ideas are even remembered. Little time for editing, for prying my big-picture brain into a detail-oriented mentality. So I hit publish, hoping that the "you'res" aren't "yours" or that I didn't confuse "affect" and "effect," all the while wondering if I should mail Bill Gates a thank-you-note for blessing the world with spell check. Then, if I catch a mistake post-publish, I put on a hair-shirt and whip my own back 39 times. Ok, I don't do that, and I know the world doesn't care, but I can tell you that vanity-reading your own stuff isn't good for the soul.

Then, there's foreign languages. Over half of my MBA courses are in English (yippee!), but most of them are taught by non-native speakers, so the lectures are peppered with grammar mistakes which, as an English language trainer, I can analyse, explain, and suggest improvements. But I say nothing, not only to keep my professors' good graces, and not only because their mistakes rarely inhibit communication, but also because, often enough, it's my turn to speak German, and, and C1 fluent that I am, there's no way this side of heaven that I am going to get every detail of this language right. I'll never remember every gender of every non-gendered object, I'll continue to mix up their backwards numbers, and I insist that the differenced in pronunciation between o and ö is zero, null, nil, nada, and nothing. I am in deep need of grammar grace - at the university, at my church, in my family, and in any future employment.

Good writing with good grammar is beautiful. I can recognize it in German, even if I'll never produce it myself, and I can strive for it, however imperfectly, in English. The letter of the law, in language as in elsewhere, shows purpose, making communication effective, elegant, and enjoyable. But in our world of international commerce, international friendships, and international families, we get to communicate with each other, even if we'll never be maestros, and our strivings are beautiful in and of themselves. What should we do otherwise? In language, as with anything else in life, the best way forward is to love both the law and the person who will never perfectly fulfil it. We need to be full of grace and truth, and for this, we have an example.

Meanwhile, should you catch me in grammatical error, your welcome to point it out.

Your Children Should Think You're Omniscient For as Long as Possible

I was taking my daughter on a walk about a year ago, when she pointed to a little boy across the street I had never seen before. She asked, "what's his name?"

"I don't know," I replied. Her eyes widened in shock and confusion. Little tears beaded in their corners.

"But... but... you know!" It was on that day that my daughter discovered an unfortunate truth: I am not omniscient. I should have casually said, "oh, his name's Frank," and walked on. Lesson learned.

Doch, English! Bilingual Children in Germany

A smug feeling crept through my chest as I read about the struggles expat mom has with encouraging her son to retain his English in Madrid. Ha. My little half-expat has embraced both her father and mother tongue, to the point where she was translating some of her German kindergarten (preschool over here) songs for my parents over skype. Ah, yes, glory be to the parents who have it all together.

Of course, if we were ever to have another child of a slightly other disposition, any feelings of smugness could be blown out of the water. A next child could be a stubborn monolingual, too. It could have a different personality, talents and behavior patterns, and that instruction book in my mind based on my first child is about as useful as a manual for Gateway Computers. But, I'm not there yet, my child has embraced bilingualism (so far), and I'll fantasize about being that good. I wonder, though, if Germany has built an advantage for raising bilinguals in its own growing multiculturalism.

I was warned that my daughter might reject bilingualism when she entered kindergarten. It happened to a Scottish-German neighbor couple. Their children were doing fine in English until they entered kindergarten full of children who only knew German. No one shared a second language, so they felt isolated and uncomfortable using it. The added fact that children are talented in finding ways to put each other down, and the children suppressed their knowledge of their mother tongue.

Not so for our daughter. Her kindergarten is in the "downtown" part of our little city, which is its own little melting pot. In her kindergarten, monolinguals are the minority. It's not a strange thing to speak a second language; it's the norm. The fact that she's the only English speaker isn't a big deal, but bilingualism by itself seems to count. Whenever I come to pick her up, I'm surrounded by mixed marriages and people speaking Turkish, Russian, Vietnamese, Polish, Greek, Italian, Armenian, and more. Oh yes, German too. These happy babel sounds mean that the ones who suddenly express themselves in another language aren't some horrifying school-child anomaly, like being the only kid in a tacky Christmas sweater in June. It's just something everyone does.

If economic trends continue, things will stay this way. Germany's economy is chugging a long, and it's continuing to attract the most employable young southern Europeans. Many of these technically gifted immigrants, like the Turkish guest workers and Russian-German immigrants before them, will stay, settle, and raise wonderfully bilingual families.

When I spoke to him about his own bilingual children, a French-German father I know shrugged his shoulders and said, "it's completely normal." "Completely normal." All the kids here are bilingual. This encourages my daughter to retain her father tongue, but there's a downside. I've no reason to be smug.

Elmo Among Other Monsters

When it comes to Sesame Street, my daughter is following in my footsteps. I love Sesame Street, still do. It was the only show that I was both consistently allowed to watch and enjoyed watching. The show's educational, yes, but not only did it "make learning fun," but it captured the joy of learning things, a joy so many of those drab hygiene and physical science videos we watched in school never had. Add in smart pop culture references and characters kids and adults can care about, and you've got yourself a fine piece of television. So in this new age of the Information Super Highway, one of my first acts as father was to plop my kicking baby in my lap and watch YouTube videos of classic Sesame Street. She loved it so much I can't open up the lap top to do something important (like write a blog or goof off on Facebook) without having my daughter run up, grab my leg and in her best "melt papa's heart voice" say: "Letter B?"

There has been, however, a cultural shift since my childhood of sitting on our plaid-green couch to watch a show brought to you by the letter "K." You see, one of the biggest appeals of Sesame Street was that it was always a little rough around the edges. The street itself appeared a bit dirty, the characters lovable but gritty, the pictures and film had sort of a Public Television residue that smelled of cheapness and passion and authenticity. But this has changed. Sesame Street looks gentrified. Take a look at the website. You won't find smoother edges in Buckingham Palace. It's as clean the surgery ward. There's been a change, and I can sum it up in one word: Elmo. 

No question Elmo is the Street's most popular character. No question. If you visited the website, then you were greeted by his sweet furry face. That same face makes the little icon on the URL. He's everywhere, including my daughter's crib and coloring books. He's ingeniously designed for maximum cuteness and cuddliness. The cute one with a cute voice, and his cuteness has spread all over Sesame Street like a funny picture on Facebook. When I was home for Christmas, my mother wanted me to go to the local art house theater to see a documentary about Elmo's mover, shaker and speaker, Kevin Clash. His story is a powerful, feel-good, American-dream story of the best kind. No doubt he's a genius at his chosen career, and if there's a puppeteering pantheon, then he will sit with Jim Henson and Frank Oz to judge us all. But I couldn't see the film. There were some scheduling difficulties that explained this. But the truth is, I hold a grudge against Elmo. I miss the old furry monsters, like the ones in this old "C is for Cookie" video. 

It's not that the old monsters have been fired. Cookie, for one, still plays a prominent role (though the good folks at Sesame Street are reigning in his gluttony to help confront America's childhood obesity problem). And if you look through the website's list of muppets, you'll find characters like Herry, Frazzle and the Two-Headed Monster, all monsters of the old school. The old-school monsters weren't like cuddly kittens. They were more like your crazy uncle's biker friends. You know who I'm talking about. They were rough. They drove American-made motorcycles, drank beer from the bottle and had powerful, meaty arms. In fact, they may have both showed you your first tattoo and given you your first sip of beer. Your love for them was mixed with fear. They weren't ones for snuggles, but if you ever had a problem with a bully, needed repair work on the tree house or were threatened by a rabid dog, you knew you could count on them, just like you could count on old-school monsters. Now, not only are they crowded out by Elmo and his relentless sugartooth, but they're in a sad state. Look at their pictures on the website. They look like they've been thoroughly scrubbed and shampooed by a child-marketing expert. 

I don't mind Elmo's existence. Cuddles are necessary, and I wonder how many of today's conflicts could be solved (or at least eased) by a good snuggle. But life has rough edges, and Sesame Street's greatest strength was that it could acknowledge this and still take joy in singing, laughing and learning. 

Of course, the Elmo promotion is on to something. My daughter loves Elmo, the same way she loves puddles and pretty dresses. With no prompting (certainly by me), she was drawn to them. Among her army of stuffed animals, she has two Sesame Street dolls: Ernie and Elmo. Ernie was my favorite growing up. My daughter likes Ernie, and Ernie is my daughter's main sleeping partner, because by chance we threw him in the crib when it was dark outside and she needed a friend. But as much as she may try to hide it, Elmo is her favorite. She just sees him first. Elmo's like that gregarious kid in your third grade class that always made your teacher smile in a way she never could for you in spite of your obvious superiority in both behavior and grammar. Whenever we watch that old "Letter B" video, her next request is "Elmo." Doesn't matter which Elmo video, and there are lots to choose from. And, given time and mood, I indulge her. But I use my fatherly authority to throw in some old-school monster videos too. After all, there's more to fatherhood than snuggling. 

Did a Big Idea Make Big Ideas Elusive?

This weekend, some friends sent me Neal Gabler's interesting New York Times commentary, "The Elusive Big Idea." In it, Gabler bemoans the lack of influence compelling intellectual ideas have on modern Society. We make icons of those who, in the past, not only thought of something new, but also captured the attention and commanded the respect of the rest of the Western world, to the point where their ideas not only transformed their own field but impacted society as a whole. Freud's study in psychology brought about a paradigm shift in his own profession and influenced literature, theology and much else. The same could be said of Einstein with physics, Niebuhr with theology or Keynes with economics. Not only that, Gabler argues, but the ideas, and the intellectuals who argued for and about them, held more respect in popular culture. He writes:

"A big idea could capture the cover of Time — “Is God Dead?” — and intellectuals like Norman Mailer, William F. Buckley Jr. and Gore Vidal would even occasionally be invited to the couches of late-night talk shows. How long ago that was.

If our ideas seem smaller nowadays, it’s not because we are dumber than our forebears but because we just don’t care as much about ideas as they did. In effect, we are living in an increasingly post-idea world — a world in which big, thought-provoking ideas that can’t instantly be monetized are of so little intrinsic value that fewer people are generating them and fewer outlets are disseminating them, the Internet notwithstanding. Bold ideas are almost passé."

Now, you might be thinking, isn't the screen I'm staring at now a pretty big, transformative idea? Couldn't we add the likes of Bill Gates, Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg to our pantheon of people with good, world-changing ideas? No, writes Gabler.

"Entrepreneurs have plenty of ideas, and some, like Steven P. Jobs of Apple, have come up with some brilliant ideas in the “inventional” sense of the word.

Still, while these ideas may change the way we live, they rarely transform the way we think. They are material, not ideational."

In fact, all this information technology is part of the problem.

"Where are you going? What are you doing? Whom are you seeing? These are today’s big questions. It is certainly no accident that the post-idea world has sprung up alongside the social networking world. Even though there are sites and blogs dedicated to ideas, Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, Flickr, etc., the most popular sites on the Web, are basically information exchanges, designed to feed the insatiable information hunger, though this is hardly the kind of information that generates ideas. It is largely useless except insofar as it makes the possessor of the information feel, well, informed."

I understand these this intense need to be informed, and the makers of social media, not to mention search engines, were smart to capitalize on this. A few minutes ago, I had to close the tabs with my Facebook and Twitter feeds just so I could stay focused on this blog. Gabler goes on to write how traditional media, the disbursers of big ideas, is suffering in an instant information society. Print is shrinking in market share, and popular television talk shows no longer invite intellectuals to sit on their couches. Instead of pausing to think, we now have the means to gorge ourselves with information, and we use it.

We're a narcissistic society, it's true, though I'm sure other professors had said that about their students a generation ago. Also, I don't think profit and intellectual thought are as antithetical as Gabler says it is. He admits that there are indeed thinkers with ideas to give and mentions a few examples, but they just don't have the same impact or attention of the idea generators of the past. But I largely agree that today, with our glut quick, instantaneous information and fewer ideas that manage to influence everyone.

Here's the thing, though. Isn't the death of a big idea, in part, the result of ideas themselves? Gabler laments the fall of enlightenment thinking, which he says is related to the death of the big idea, but he never mentions a big idea that critiqued the enlightenment itself: postmodernism. Postmodernism's flagship tenet is the deconstruction of meta-narratives, which is another way of saying big ideas, is it not? Postmodernism became popular, because some big ideas, full of influence, impact, debate, scholarship and much else, were devastating. Consider this neat summary from an Economist article five years ago (about which I wrote here):

"The founding post-modern text (as books are called in pomo) is by two Germans, Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer. Published in 1944, “Dialectic of Enlightenment” examined the culture that had given birth to Auschwitz. It declared that “enlightenment is totalitarian”—that the 18th-century attempt to replace religion with rationalism had supplanted one form of mental slavery with another. God had been elbowed out by fascism, communism, Marxism, Freudianism, Darwinism, socialism and capitalism. The post-modernists thought their job was to “deconstruct” these grand theories, which they called the “meta-narratives”. The pomos would free people from them by exposing their sinister nature."

What hath big ideas wrought? Yes, Freud and Einstein had big ideas, but so did Hitler and Stalin. Perverse as they were, they were birthed in an enlightened culture where ideas, to use Gabler's words, were not "intellectual playthings," but had "practical effects." Indeed, it was fear of Hitler that caused Einstein to apply his big ideas towards the creation of the atomic bomb. If big ideas are less important to many of us, it is, in part, because they managed to destroy themselves in the process.

What is the result of the postmodernist critique of big ideas? Well, one is mass individualism, which Gabler laments without naming. As the Economist article points out, Capitalism has taken advantage of this with niche marketing, which is perhaps why Mark Zuckerberg has probably had more of an impact on most of us than Steven Pinker (to use one of Gabler's examples). Aided with technology, we all get to pick and choose what we read, what feed we follow or whose pictures to tag. But it doesn't necessarily mean we cease to think; our thoughts rarely rest in conformity with our preferred ueber-thinker, and when they do, that thinker has less impact on society as a whole. I primarily use Facebook to share links and read the links my friends have posted, and much of it is good, substantial stuff. Ideas are not extinct, but there's a lot more of them, and, for better or for worse, it's less likely that the big few will dominate.

Yes, this leaves all of us wide open for narcissism. Furthermore, I share Gabler's dislike of celebrity gossip and the computer-like gestation of information without thought, not to mention a preference for long, thoughtful essays over the verbal volleyball of cable punditry. I wish Letterman would feature a prominent professor for every actor he hosts. But I would rather live with our frantic, electronic marketplace of ideas and distractions then go back to a time when an evil idea could become so dominate.

Will Wilkinson, in reply to Gabler, believes (and "would bet his immortal soul") that "more big ideas... were studied, discussed and produced in 2010 than in 1950." He goes on to put a sunnier face on modern intellectual discourse:

"A TED talk or a book-talk spot on "The Daily Show" may not have the audience or cultural centrality of a half-hour with Dick Cavett on ABC in 1970, but more people are consuming and discussing big ideas, old and new, than ever before. The difference is that the audience and the discussion has become fragmented and decentralised.

The fun part is that I, as a lay thinker, can join the discussion right here on the information super highway. For those of us who prefer a cooler, more intellectual environment, the answer is to remain relentlessly thoughtful, reading and considering the ideas we come across. Before, of course, we post them on Facebook.

Learning to Walk

My daughter is a walker. It took her a little while, right up to the year and a half "start-worrying-says-the-doctor" deadline. It's been a fun process, letting her little hands grasp my pointer finger as she, with escalating confidence, moves her chubby little legs across the living room floor. She's naturally cautious, but she's recently realized the utility of staying on two legs, and loves the opportunity to take off down the street or explore the garden with her Oma (credit where credit is due: my father-in-law bought her some shoes that, unlike her other shoes, were clearly made for walkin').

Do you know of anyone who remembers learning to walk in their childhood? I know I don't, and I doubt my daughter will either. But these small steps for baby will grow in to adult steps that will carry her a world over. This is a cause for thankfulness, as Chesterton famously pointed out when he wrote: "As children, we were grateful for those who filled our stockings at Christmastime. Why not be grateful to God for filling our stockings with legs." Worth thinking for any of us who can easily tackle a staircase or hike a trail through the forest. Working limbs for the glory of God.

My daughter won't remember the lesson, yet she'll remember to walk. God designed her legs for this purpose and, Lord willing, these legs will carry her well through the years. This could serve as a bit of encouragement for anyone finding him- or herself in the position of teaching, among them pastors and parents. It's almost a running joke among Christians, where, week after week God's word is preached to us. I often find myself thinking, "wonderful sermon last week! I felt so invigorated as I sat in the pews! Now, what did he talk about again?"

Sometimes, perhaps even often, we remember those moments where a seed, faithfully thrown, hits our hearts and begin to take root, causing positive change and enlightened understanding, even when we're quite young. But as I've been writing (and indeed reading) more, I've become aware of an unaccounted for inventory of knowledge, particularly spiritual knowledge. I'll read about a concept (this week it's been Christ-like service as espoused in Philippians 2-3, which is as beautiful to think about as it is difficult to apply) that will awaken dormant thoughts and teachings, waiting in my mind to be breathed upon. Where did I learn them? A sermon? A conversation with my father? A book? A blog post? A song my mother sang to me as a baby? Some combination of the previously mentioned?

Sometimes, I'll remember; sometimes I won't. I like to remember. I like to remember who to thank, who was important to my journey. But the point is that I remember, and that I put it into practice, that I don't forget my face the moment I walk away from the mirror. That's why I think that, even when we can't immediately regurgitate the relevant facts like Will Hunting, even when we've forgotten last week's sermon or a proverb from our granddad, there's still hope. We're laying down the bricks in a house we can't understand. We're adding seasoning to the mix of every soul. We're teaching each other to walk, tentative step by tentative step until we learn to walk to new heights. Something worth remembering, even if you never remember having read it here.

Presuming to Blog

Among fatherhood's pleasures, I especially enjoy the role of teacher. It could be gratifying because I have a desire to be listened to and appreciated, or it could be a genuine bi-product of our created role as parents. Either way, from the morning diaper change to evening prayers, I am an expert on the alphabet, a scholar of stair climbing and a genuine professor of potty. Less encouragingly, my increasingly-perceptive daughter observes how I treat her mother, how I take care of our possessions and how I respond stress, conflict and chores. I am a conscious and unconscious teacher.

Often, this is a joy, but it is also a weighty responsibility. God has given to me enormous spiritual influence over this child, and Jesus has some strong words for those who abuse this. The Bible recognizes the pleasure and the power of teaching, and I for one love that role - I love the moment when someone who previously did not understand a concept, especially if it is a lovely concept, grasps it - their eyes open like a blooming flower and the muscles in their face relax. This is a joy and a privilege, and it is often very Godly. When I was a missionary in Germany, I remember sitting in a pub discussing the Gospel over beers with a good friend (hey, somebody has to do it). I got to show him that astounding truth Paul writes in 2nd Corinthians 5, that Jesus died and rose again that we may be reconciled to God. For my friend it was a new way of seeing Christianity, and life in general, and it was a moment to cherish, hopefully for both of us.

Yet, remember how much harm we can do through our speech. James writes: "Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness." With this verse in mind, along with the digital flair up over Rob Bell's new book, John Dyer writes in Christianity today that not many of us should presume to be bloggers. It's good practice to imagine what James would say to the digital age, and Dyer he argues that social media does not encourage the self-control he describes:

"In fact, they encourage an opposing value system. Social media relentlessly asks us to publish our personal opinions on anything and everything that happens. There is no time for reflection in prayer, no place for discussion with other flesh and blood image bearers, and no incentive to remain silent.

You must declare your position, and you must declare it now."

It is sobering to remember that we will be held accountable for our words, and perhaps more so the words that we so unaccountably scrawl on the internet for the world to see. This, I suspect, is an increasing pastoral problem (and parenting - I often wonder when we will allow our daughter to start a Facebook account. Parents, what's your household internet policy?) - how do we act like Christians on the Internet? I note that Dyer himself is blogging about the question, and his forthcoming book From the Garden to the City: The Redeeming and Corrupting Power of Technology will presumably provided this much-needed service. I certainly echo Dyer's call for restraint, reflection and wisdom, and I can probably point the finger to myself as well.

There are, however, two points in the article that concern me. First, in citing the Rob Bell hubbub, he avoids talking about online behavior of Christian leaders. He has some good analysis elsewhere, but he concludes that "best-selling authors, major authors or public theologians" have a different responsibility. That much, is indeed true, but shouldn't good Christian behavior on the internet start at the top? I don't think many of the Christian sheep bleating their opinions on universalism into cyberspace were being particularly original. Were not a majority just following, and retweeting their shepherds? I agree, many of us need to slow down and think before hitting that publish button, but in the larger discussion of online Christianity should include its uses for Christian leaders (incidentally, I have been edified by our own church's internet use, including the blogs my pastors contribute to, as well as our current online Lenten devotional).

Second, what kind of technological use is Dyer advocating? He concludes with

"I say, let the teachers teach and let them be judged more strictly.

As for the rest of the priesthood of believers, let's believe what we believe and then, as James advised, "show it by [our] good life," sharing our beliefs with those embodied souls in our immediate vicinity—just like Christians before 2004 used to do."

Well, yes, let's be cautious about our postings, particularly if we are trying to punch above our theological weight limit. And yes, we will better glorify God by showing these things through our good lives, and yes, one of the dangers of any technology is that it isolates us from our neighbors. I worry though, that Dyer leans to far in the other direction, towards an unhealthy disengagement by lay-Christians from a new part of reality. Like it or not, we are in a post-2004 world. For better or worse, much of our world is now online, and part of showing a good life, of letting our lives shine before others, means doing so online. Yes, there are dangers. And no, an online life should not replace a real life among family, friends, neighbors and co-workers. But the internet provides new opportunity and new ways of love, encouragement, prayer and edification. We are to be salt and light in all spheres, including the digital one.

That's why I don't think all of the high-tech idealism is unfounded. Dyer points out the danger of Facebook constantly asking "what's on your mind" or Twitter asking "what's happening" every time we log on - it can be an invitation to exhibitionism and a bane to self-control. There is danger there. On the other side of the coin, these questions are an invitation for users to join a greater conversation, a conversation that will only be as sinful as we make it. I like using Facebook to photostalk friends and share articles that I think are interesting - two pleasures I did not have pre-2004. I also use it to better understand the lives of missionaries we support and receive prayer from a woman in Chicago who has a social-media propelled praying ministry.

And, while Blogspot and Wordpress may give way to a lot of hot air, I for one am grateful to some of the lay Christian bloggers out there. Joshua's Spiritual Klutz blog, is regular, practical Christian wisdom, and I'm glad he is willing to put it out there. He's a trained writer and a good communicator, and a blog is a good place for him to serve with these gifts. The question, then, goes beyond whether or not a lay-Christian should blog (though that is a good one to prayerfully ask) to how can that blog edifying? This will be true for any Christian who writes, sings, paints or plays an instrument, all with varying levels of notoriety.

In many ways, that is why I presume to blog. Yes, God will hold me accountable words, and perhaps more so for words that anyone with a smart phone can find. I hope that this blog is an outlet for my thoughtful, creative side - a side that I don't get to use much these days, but a side I wish to use for God's glory. I'll be the first to say how short of that I fall. I try to avoid going beyond my pay-grade on any subject, and, while I presume to blog, I don't presume to be an expert, espousing my carefully researched ideas to my followers. I hope these are thoughtful responses and reflections, in all, part of that greater conversation.

If this is a conversation, then I hope for some feedback. How should the Christian engage social media? How do we read James 3 in light of Facebook, Twitter and blogs? How can we be salt and light online? How do leaders - from pastors to parents - teach their pupils about the internet? Think carefully before you hit publish, but I hope I'm not leading you into darkness when I ask, what's on your mind?

Twain, London, Creativity and Sin

I heartily second almost all of Kathleen Parker's defense of Mark Twain's original text. Eliminating the "n-word" from Huckleberry Finn is a good-intentioned denial of part of our past that could give way to more insidious denials. It is up to teachers to help children navigate and understand the plot and the language, and I am personally thankful to the teachers at Robious Middle School in Richmond, Virginia who did so for me.

I quibble, however, with one sentence: "...it seems to me that racism and the sort of worldly intelligence that inspires men and women to art are incompatible." Now, according to what I've read and heard, Twain was no racist, and, as far as I can know, neither were the other authors Parker lists (Faulkner, O'Connor, Warren, Melville).

It's much more likely, however, that Jack London was racist. Having only read, but not really studied the author, I was surprised to hear the accusation for the first time on NPR while driving my car to a work event. London, along with Twain and Tolkien, were among those who first opened my young mind to reading. His stories of animals, nature and humans under extreme circumstances enthralled me. He may not belong on pantheon Parker mentions, but he had the "worldly intelligence that inspires men and women to art." Yet the fact that London wrote this short story should give us pause.

Whatever London's views, we should not let the creative off that easily. I'm a fan of the creative mind, but I can tell you from experience that sin is even stronger. To say a certain virtue always neutralizes a certain sin risks pride. Pride, in art or in virtue, comes before a fall, and falls can surprise us. Whatever the sin, however disgusting, however horrific, the old Reformed idiom, "There but for the grace of God go I," remains a good reaction.

Love College

The New York Times has some great advice from graduate assistants on how undergraduates can make the most of their college experience. As someone who continues to interact with students, I'd like to share a few of my own thoughts. Much of what's written below could be filed under "woulda shoulda coulda" for this B.A. holder:

1. Just say no to Starbucks, Chili's, Johnny Rocket's or any other restaurant, coffee shop, or bar you could find anywhere else in America. If you want to watch the creative energy of competitive small business, look at all the dining places that spring up and die around college campuses. Coffee shops, cup cake trends, creative pubs, sushi - the resources for a culinary adventure are within walking distance from your dorm. College is a chance to develop expand your taste for strange food, foreign beer and locally grown veggies. Taco Bell is for high school students. It's time to grow into something more interesting.
2. Travel. Of course, you're reading words from a man who fell in love with a foreigner and the foreign country she came from. But even before that (and, for me, before college) travel broadened my mind and added to my education in a way a classroom never could. Study abroad. Go on a mission trip or a service project. Believe me, you won't have your kind of energy five years from now. Don't sit around campus; see the world.
3. Hang out with international students. I loved getting to know people from Japan, India, Germany, France and Palestine at my university's international coffee hour. I volunteered as an English language partner for the university's intensive English study center. International students not only bring you new perspectives, but it is fascinating to meet those who are willing to get their education under completely new contexts. While your at it, take your international friend home to meet your parents. Only 10% of international students see the inside of an American home (college apartments don't count), and those that do count it as one of the experiences that had the most impact on their time in the States.
4. Protest. Chances are that during your four years the government will do something that goes against your deepest values. Join the throngs, make a sign, paint your face and practice democracy.
5. While your at it, vote. The voter turn out for young people is embarrassing. Don't forget to register, and don't forget to mail your ballot in. Even if you don't like the candidates, write something in or choose the lesser of two evils. Politicians pay attention to who votes, and if your particular demographic is underrepresented, they will not cater to you.
6. Get to know your professors. I could perhaps say "network" with your professors, but that sound so impersonal and utilitarian. Now, that being said, one of the reasons I wished I had done more of this was to get those recommendations for jobs or grad school. But don't have the posture of someone who is merely looking for career stepping stones. Your professors have worked hard to know and understand interesting things to share with you, and they will be all to happy to pass along what they know beyond their planned lectures. Visit them in their office hours to talk not just about your grades but about their expertise. Ask questions during class, and engage them after class. You won't regret it.
7. Know thyself. Had I better known myself, there's a lot I would have done differently. Plenty of folks my age say the same. Find out how you are wired - personality tests at your college career center will help with this, as will a part time job in the professional world. Find where your gifts lie through trial and error, but once you have them, aggressively pursue majors and careers that will best use them.
8. Don't skimp the economics classes, especially if you are in the social sciences. As an idealistic international relations major, I took the bare minimum requirement of economics (as an aside, an international relations degree should have required more econ than what ours did). I was turned off by the math, the charts, the terms (note to all economics teachers - you'll help your students if you explain the concepts before getting them to memorize the terms) and the fact that macroeconomics seemed like selfishness 101. Alas, economics are the vegetables of international affairs, political science, history, journalism and so many other interesting fields. Any graduate program worth its salt requires at least 12 hours of it. The policy world runs on it. You will be much more useful to the developing world if you understand it. So, hold your breath and learn it well. Get a college subscription to the Economist and read how interesting international economics can be. The dismal science is a science worth knowing, for all of us.
9. If you go to church, go to a church with families. You'll get more out of it if you gain mentors with gray hair and get to interact with their kids. If you never went to church, why not give it a shot? Ask a student in your local campus ministry to take you.
10. Take as many classes as you can, especially if you are on scholarship. Believe me, now that I am in the working world, I wish I could take more classes.
11. Turn four into more. So many students I meet literally consider themselves too cool for school. They lean back and with a resigned, impatient expression talk about how they can't wait to get out in the real world and make some money. Don't worry. The real world will still be there after another year, and you'll be with it until retirement. If you have the resources, take an extra major, pursue a graduate degree, work-study, stay for that extra football season. Unless you are deep in debt (something you should try to avoid), you won't regret getting too much education. Only too little. I personally would have added a communications degree to round out my international affairs qualifications. 20/20 hindsight.

What are your tips?

Best/Worst Case -- Florida State

The nation rejoices - college football is on the television, on the radio, and on the hats, polos and jerseys everywhere the eye can see! And, of course, it's all over this here Internet thing I get to write on.

So, in the spirit of ESPN and 24-hour sports coverage (and with apologies to my favorite sports blogger), I present to you the best case and worse case scenario for my alma mater's 2010 college football season.

BEST CASE

Florida State University roars out of the gates with an amazing upset of Oklahoma, and right on your humble blogger's birthday to boot! From there, the Noles demolish the ACC competition, humiliate the out of conferences foes and the in-state rivals (including a last second, upright-splitting field goal to send Miami packing) and whup up on my father's alma mater in the ACC championship. Christian Ponder, after claiming the Heisman Trophy, delivers a tearful acceptance speech so good that it resolves the Israel/Palestine conflict, and all nations, from rogue states to democracies, beat their nuclear weapons into plough shares (no accidents take place). After crushing a resurgent Notre Dame in the BCS championship, all of the nation's top recruits reject their previous commitments and clamor for Tallahassee, while the rest of the nation's elite programs can only watch, pray and fight over the remaining spoils.

The great FSU dynasty ensues, taking home championship after championship. Their success makes them so beloved, that they leave the Atlantic Coast Conference and sign an exclusive television contract with NBC (which decides not to renew its contract with the ailing Fighting Irish). Not to be outdone, ESPN pays Florida State University hundreds of millions of dollars for "College Game Day" to be broadcast live from Doak Campbell Stadium every week (they change their theme song to "We're Coming To Your City - if you live in Tallahassee").

Meanwhile, all the extra sports revenue swells the endowment, attracting the best faculty and students for every conceivable field. Academic excellence increases exponentially and within five years (and five BCS championships), Florida State is considered the Harvard of the south. After five more years of success (and five more championships), Harvard is the consensus Florida State of the north. Academic flourishing trickles into every aspect of life, and along with sport and learning, art, business and authentic Christian spirituality thrive, from Tallahassee, to Florida, to the United States and to the world.

WORST CASE

Florida State is humiliated on opening day (tomorrow) with a last-second, loss to Samford, thanks to a missed field goal in the closing seconds that sails wide right. From there, the rest of the season goes down the toilet, with each loss more humiliating. All of FSU's top recruits end up in the hospital or in jail, and the remaining players desperately try to transfer to Florida International University. Coach Jimbo Fisher is fired in shame and takes a job cleaning Renegade's stables.

Bowl-less, winless and shamed, Florida State is kicked out of the Atlantic Coast Conference and demoted through the ranks of college football, where, after five years and five goose-egg season, the Noles find passing success at club flag football level. Desperate Florida State athletic officials waste all sorts of money trying to secure coaches and television contracts, but to no avail, and other university sports suffer. The athletic demise starts a rot which infects the school academically, as department after department lose faculty and quality students. This phenomenon prompts U.S. News and World Report to create a "Just Say No" list of national universities, with FSU ranked at the top every year.

Meanwhile, the combined forces of industry, government and Mordor turn a now impoversihed Tallahassee into a dark, post-apocalyptic city, which pollutes the Gulf of Mexico more than any BP oil spill ever could. The resulting filth hastens the effects of Global Warming. The Polar Ice Caps melt, and the state of Florida sinks into the sea, prompting residents to flee to Kentucky. The environmental and humanitarian calamity causes all countries to go to war with one another over scarce resources, starting when Finland invades Sweden. In the process, all forms of art, culture and beauty vanish and are forgotten, and once again, every human being has only one goal: survival.

PREDICTION:

Somewhere in between. Happy football watching, everybody!

Technology and Humanity

I'm a huge technology fan (duh - the blog), and I count myself happy to live in the age of the internet. It's wonderful, and the opportunities of daily exploration are nothing short of miraculous. So I wonder if it's ironic that I resinate so much with Bob Herbert's beautiful column in today's New York Times.

"Tweet Less, Kiss More" caught my attention the day after I opened my first Twitter account, mostly to actually experience how it works. Mr. Herbert reminds us that:

We need to reduce the speed limits of our lives. We need to savor the trip. Leave the cellphone at home every once in awhile. Try kissing more and tweeting less. And stop talking so much.

Listen.

Other people have something to say, too. And when they don’t, that glorious silence that you hear will have more to say to you than you ever imagined. That is when you will begin to hear your song. That’s when your best thoughts take hold, and you become really you.

Of course, Mr. Herbert is not the first to to point out the dehumanizing effects of technology. Wendell Berry is my favorite critic of blind technological advancement (famous for his essay, "Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer," yes, more irony, read it on your computer. This link includes the letters to Harpers, I believe, where it was first published, and Mr. Berry's witty response). Bob Herbert's column calls to mind a passage from Jayber Crow, which I read last fall, in which Jayber buys a an automobile (I wanted to quote directly, but I forgot that I had lent my book to a friend). Mr. Berry describes Jayber's growing impatience with anything moving slower than he was, particularly on the road, as he drives the car in post-war rural Kentucky, and this attitude eats away at his moral character. Knowing he does not truly need the car, he eventually gets rid of it. I believe somewhere in Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis is less moralistic, but nonetheless on the same train of thought, where he notes that, being born before the invention of the automobile he could better appreciate the nature in his own limited space.

Of course, this question of technological advancement and morals was around well-before the modern era. The Economist describes this story:

IN 1492, the same year that Christopher Columbus crossed the Atlantic, a Benedictine abbot named Trithemius, living in western Germany, wrote a spirited defence of scribes who tried to impress God’s word most firmly on their minds by copying out texts by hand. To disseminate his own books, though, Trithemius used the revolutionary technology of the day, the printing press.

I can imagine that the scribes of old had a sort of patient, devotional and spiritual experience lost on many of us today by daily copying scripture. But, as we all know, the printing press put eventually put them out of business and brought God's word to everyone else.

The Economist article I linked to reviews a book about troubles with modern technology (social media), and suggests that the answer to troubles with technology is moderation, or "old-fashioned self-restraint." Bob Herbert suggests the same.

One of the essential problems of our society is that we have a tendency, amid all the craziness that surrounds us, to lose sight of what is truly human in ourselves, and that includes our own individual needs — those very special, mostly nonmaterial things that would fulfill us, give meaning to our lives, enlarge us, and enable us to more easily embrace those around us.

One caveat with this sentence. Whenever we talk about "what is truly human in ourselves," we can forget that the opposite of whatever we're talking about may be just as human. Technology enables and is enabled by our drive to achieve, our joy in production, our escapism, our fear that we are missing something, our anxiety that we are not keeping up, our need for connection, our appetite for information. Whatever is positive or negative about these traits, they are fully human, keeping phones and computers within arms reach, wherever we go.

Old-fashioned self-restraint means restraining a very human part of us. If it means closing the laptop to pay attention to my wife or my daughter (more irony: as I write this, they are sitting behind me), it means suffocating a very human part me to allow them (or my friends, or my job, or my church, or a piece of art, or ultimately God Himself) to shape me, and make me a better human.

10 More Books

Some prominent, professional bloggers have taken up David Frum's challenge to post ten books that have influenced their worldview. (I first found out about this reading Ross Douthat's list) The rules are to go with your gut feeling, and not necessarily mention your favorite books. As a non-prominent, non-professional who occasionally updates his blog (and who often fantasizes about prominence and professionalism), I am going to list mine. Fair warning: anyone reading this will probably be more edified going to the pages of these pros, and my books will be less wonkish by comparison, but for what it's worth (in no particular order):

1. The Bible - Jesus. Church. Holy Spirit. Make disciples. I know, forgive the pat Sunday-school answer. But I've truly found it worth believing. It is the one book I have read, in very small parts, nearly every day since I was fifteen. Different parts have meant more to me in different seasons - the Psalms, the Gospels, Romans and Philippians have all featured prominently, and I am, lazily but beneficially, reading through 1 Peter at the moment. Sermons preached directly from its pages have influenced me as much as any of these books. A list of books that influenced me without the Bible would be a dishonest list. When I read some of the "high points" - the Sermon on the Mount, John 14, Romans 8, Psalm 40, what can I say? If only it influenced me more.
2. I just took a break for thirty minutes to find a paper I wrote in college on the Cyprus conflict. I could not find it, but it sites a book whose approach to history and international conflict is better imprinted on my conscience more than the name of the book or the author. (I think the name was something like Cyprus: Island in the Sun, my Google-search was not fruitful either. I remember that the author was British. In any case...) One of the difficulties researching the Cyprus conflict was to find a book that was not clearly biased to either the Greek or the Turkish side. This particularly nuanced book was the only one I found that could effectively explain and analyze both sides. It encouraged or affirmed my mistrust sources who fail to understand their opponents point of view. This affects my faith, my politics and my philosophy of evangelism.
3. Les Miserables, Victor Hugo - It's a 1400 page Gospel Presentation. The first seventy pages describe the character of a priest who only figures briefly into the main plot, and is a wonderful celebration of a Christian. It is blissfully long-winded, purposely poetic and edifying to the last page. If you are only familiar with the film or the musical, let me just say that if you have read the book, they will both come across as superficial. It's pages brought grace, healing and wonder to me in Freiburg's dark, smoky cafes.
4. "The Weight of Glory," C.S. Lewis - Ok, it's a sermon, not a book. But I read it in a book, and, unfortuately, I did not hear him preach it in 1940s Oxford. This serious meditation on heaven is an argument for Christian hope, and as its final paragraphs demonstrate, why Christian hope, true Christian hope, does not keep our heads in the clouds, but propels us to love others. Lewis haunts me with the fact that there are "no ordinary people," that everyone we encounter is either "an immortal horror or an everlasting splendor." This weight, paints the way I ought to treat strangers, colleagues, friends and family (with God's help).
5. The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien - My first epic fantasy, I braved Middle Earth when I was thirteen. Deeper symbolism I did not grasp at the time, but often overlooked in this epic is the theme of the unlikely heroes. More than any battles of good v. evil, Gollum's complexity or Christian symbolism in resurrecting wizards or returning kings, the little Hobbits give us the idea that in our own journeys, we can make it, in spite of our inadequacies (with God's help).
6. The Accidental Detective Series, Sigmund Brouwer - While we're all the subject of books I read in Middle School, here is one (or, ok, a series) that actually was written for Middle Schoolers. I read through these books like kids today read through the Harry Potter series. It is certainly not high literature, nor high children's literature like the Chronicles of Narnia or the Wind in the Willows (both of which I better understood as an adult). It did, however, show normal Christian kids living in community with other normal Christian kids that had two very important things: fun and humor. The fact that Ricky Kidd and his friends got into extraordinary situations did not undermine this. In it's own way, they lived out what C.S. Lewis said about merriment in "The Weight of Glory": "We must play. But our merriment must be that kind (and in fact it is the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously." So many children in other Christian stories suffered through dry, stoic lessons that made Christian orthodoxy and morality seem insufferable. At the same time, many of my friends in Middle School played in ways that were cutting and vicious. Brouwer's thirteen-year-old heroes played and joked in the Lewis way, and that example made no small difference in my very young view of Christianity, community and friendship.
7. War and Peace, Tolstoy. I read that Virginia Woolf once commented that War and Peace is a story that leaves nothing out. I agree. Not a page is wasted, not a word is missing. Read it, if you have not. If you are intimidated by the book's length, read it anyway, because it is actually easy reading. The prose is gentle and does not confuse (unlike Dostoyevsky), and it is divided into easily-digestible chunks. Tolstoy simply understands the human nature of each of his characters, and this, in turn, has helped me understand my own.
8. The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard. Though I was raised in a Christian home and went to Bible-preaching churches all my life, I had never really heard much teaching from the Synoptic Gospels, including the Sermon on the Mount (outside, of course, the Passion and Christmas stories). I had plenty of Paul and John, of course. The Divine Conspiracy was assigned reading before I went to Germany, and I devoured every word of it. It taught me to understand and appreciate and truly believe the Sermon on the Mount, and I am indebted to Professor Willard, and Matt, who told us to read it. There may be better Sermon on the Mount stuff out there - my dad, who read it after my enthusiastic recommendation, thought it did not add anything new for him (though my dad has a Master's of Divinity). But no question it was my gateway to a deeper Biblical understanding.
9. Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller. Yes, I know. As a hip Christian, I should probably be over Blue Like Jazz, the same way hip people ought to get over anything that becomes too popular. But so much of evangelicalism seemed to exclude certain political philosophies, certain styles, certain areas of the country, certain lifestyles that Christianity never needed to exclude. In college and in my travels, I met all sorts of people who so needlessly rejected Christ's teaching for all of these reasons. Miller, in a kind, post-modern way, separated the Gospel from these unnecessary chains and looked lovingly at the excluded, saying, "I want Jesus to happen to you." A phrase worth repeating.
10. Till We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis. I could use a number of C.S. Lewis books for this last spot - the Narnia series, his apologetic works, the Space Trilogy, The Great Divorce. Till We Have Faces (along with Perelandra) was C.S. Lewis' favorite among his works, and for good reason. The best stories are the stories of a discipleship, and a reluctant, angry disciple making her case against God, what we so often do, finally surrendering into the arms of her Lord, is story I live and re-live so often. I love the scene where, in a solemn march to recover the body of her beloved sister, Lewis' heroine is seduced by the beauty of nature. She narrates, "You may believe I was sad enough; I had come on a sad errand. Now, flung at me like frolic or insolence, there came, as if it were a voice - no words - but if you had made it into words it would be, 'why should you not dance?'"

I am sure if I wrote the list again tomorrow, other books might be on it. The Father Brown Stories from G.K. Chesterton are a superb collection of Christian fiction (I really want to read The Man Who Was Thursday, but have not yet found it). Wendell Berry's essays challenge more than so many pundits. The Brother's Karamazov remains among my favorite books, and the brother's in question are three of the most compelling characters I have read. The Trial by Franz Kafka is such crazy paranoia that I could not stop reading (though I am not encouraged to re-read).

So, other non-professional, non-paid bloggers and internet surfers, what are your books? I hope my friends will make their own lists (perhaps Justin or Liz or Karin or Joshua).

Babies Are Fun

Whenever people ask me how we're adjusting to parenthood, I usually say that it's absolutely wonderful. But when I go into details, I usually talk about all the painful side-effects of being new parents. Lack of sleep (especially for my wife, who would be awakened by the butterfly beating its wings in the Amazon), dwindling social life, collicky crying and those perfectly-timed puking spats. But I insist it's fun. Really.

And it is fun. I knew I would love my little girl. And I have, ever since those big, curious eyes stared at me in the early hours of 2010. This love, in turn, has translated very easily into fun. She's like an enormous bouquet of exotic flowers where every day, new buds bloom into unexpected and exciting shapes and colors. She is learning all of those human functions we take for granted. The ability to move our hands to our mouth without poking our eyes or smacking the cushion behind our head is one example. Elementary, for those of us with a good 29.5 years of solid arm coordination, but it is fun to watch her grow, and every success is a slobbery celebration.

She's also becoming quite conversant. Whenever she wakes up from a nap, she is usually in a good mood and wants to look up at you and talk. It's a series of coos, gurgles and grunts with terrible syntax, but she responds to our questions, smiles, and makes eye contact - eye contact the envy of job applicants everywhere. There is pleasure in conversing with an inarticulate 2-month old with impressive social skills.

There is also pleasure anytime you are a teacher to a willing student. At this moment, our baby girl is very willing. She is excited about life, and I am excited to teach her about it. For example, did you know that I am an expert on dance moves from the late fifties and the early sixties? On yes. The twist, the bop, the swim, the funky chicken - I can do them all (it's the booty dancing so popular during my high school years I have so much trouble with). And with a little help from me, our baby can do them as well. Plus, I am teaching her about all the animals in her book. Tigers are beautiful. Gators taste like chicken.

Even changing her diaper is fun. I mean it. This was one aspect of parenting I was not looking forward to at all. And I know it is not fun for everyone. I heard of a baby boy who hated having his diaper changed. At the sight of a changing table he would scream like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, only without the face melting off. Our baby, on the other hand, loves it. When she is on her changing pad, her face floods with happiness, as if, now removed from her own filth, the world is again full of possibilities. (I reserve the right to no longer like changing the diaper once she is on solid foods)

Now, for anyone reading without kids, if you're still reading at all at this point, you're probably thinking, "boooorrringgg." Why give up my every-night social life, my plans to backpack the outback, spoken word night at hipster coffee houses (okay, I dream of bring my baby in her carrier to something like this, but if she's not quiet at church, she won't be quiet there either) and my ambitions to save the world with the right formula of writing, politics, travel, charity and church (at least that's what I was trying to do) for this? Well, it's like playing Settlers of Catan - it's not as much fun watching it, or having it described to you. It's something you need to experience. Trust me. I'm a parent.

Should They Have Stayed?

I mentioned in my last post my support of a Tennessee judge's decision to grant political asylum to a family of homeschooling Germans. I wonder, though, if I were a friend of the family's, what my counsel to them would be. And I wonder what decisions I will make about place and calling when the education of my own daughter (39 days old and counting as I write this) comes into play.

I was thinking about the homeschooling case and how I would write about it on the Metro when I flipped my Bible open to 1st Peter. We're reading 1st Peter in my small group and, being less familiar with the book, I wanted to read through it to get a "feel" for the epistle. I know I'm supposed to say this about the Bible, but I mean it, this book has some great stuff in it, and much of it is about living as a community of believers in the non-Christian (and in their case, often hostile) world.

The following passage in chapter 2 made me think of the homeschool situation:

¹¹Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul. ¹²Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.

¹³Submit yourselves for the Lord's sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, as the supreme authority, ¹⁴or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. ¹⁵For it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men. ¹⁶Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God. ¹⁷Show proper respect to everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honor the king.

There is a lot we can talk about here, and we live in different times and context when it comes to government. We happily do not live under a monarchy, for example. And, of course, proper respect does not mean we need to support government action when it is doing some wrong - peaceful civil disobedience is sometimes appropriate (i.E. I don't think Martin Luther King violated the spirit of this passage).

The German homeschoolers also engaged in civil disobedience. The state eventually had policemen escort their children to school and slapped the parents with a 70,000 Euro fine ($100,000 in today's exchange rate). The justification for their civil disobedience? "The curriculum was more and more against Christian values" and that the children faced bullying, violence and peer pressure.

All this makes me wonder if the family in question made the right choice. According to Peter, living and doing good within the bounds of civil society is a living testimony to the non-believer - salt and light Germany could use. No question the addition of children into the equation makes this more difficult. It is one thing to only martyr ourselves; kids are a different matter. But consider, our children will be exposed to worldly people and ideas at some point. Would it be such a bad thing that they learn these things at a point in their lives when they come home in the afternoon?

Again, homeschooling ought to be an option in a free society. Moreover, I am convinced by the academic excellence of my homeschooled friends that homeschooling is an effective method of education, often more effective than public schools. I know for a fact, however, that homeschooling is not a sure-fire way to keep your child from rejecting Christianity. I know, because I have seen it happen. Neither is public education, of course. But public education refined my Christianity in a way I would not have experienced had I been sheltered from it.

Do their complaints justify the civil disobedience? Is their family missing out on a good 1 Peter 2 situation?

Truth is, I don't know. I don't know the family, I don't know their school situation. I know that I love Europe, Germany in particular, and I am sad whenever the faithful leave, even for good reason. I know that there are parts of DC where I would not want my daughter to go to public schools - more for her safety and quality of education than for humanist ideas. Perhaps their complaints of violence are more beyond schoolyard tussles and bullying. I cannot say for sure.

But let's not be too quick to flee the world God so loves.

Allow Conscientious Objectors

Germany allows conscientious objectors to refrain from military service, of course. In Germany, all young men are required to serve nine months in the military, though conscientious objectors may petition to spend the nine months in civilian services (volunteer work at hospitals, for example), and the petition is almost always accepted. I heard once that 60% of all German men are conscientious objectors. And why not? Given the horror and shame of World War II, it is no wonder that the nation leans towards pacifism, and if it is possible to lean too far towards pacifism, it is much better than leaning too far in the other direction. It is a mark of a free society to allow someone to abstain from a duty for reasons of conscience. Those of us who love a free society recognize that at times, the wrong people can be put in government. They can make bad decisions in war and peace, and the right of an individual to thoughtfully withdraw their services when the decisions of those in power, even if they reflect the will of the majority, violate their moral beliefs.

It is in that same spirit that I applaud a Memphis, Tennessee judge's decision to grant political asylum to a German family. Their crime? Homeschooling. Though there are options, including religious private schools, homeschooling is illegal in Germany. It should not be, and I don't say this as a right-wing public school hater. I support public schools. I am a proud product of public schools, and I appreciate the experience. Public school gave me a love for literature and history, and it trained and affirmed me in my writing (I know, I know, with mixed results, but hey, I haven't had any training since then). It couldn't sell me on mathematics, but I don't think anyone else could have either. My wife is a product of German public schools, and, at least at the Gymnasium level, I was impressed with the amount of classical education she received.

Aside from the debate about the effectiveness of public vs. home, I believe that even in the best public schooling circumstances, parents should be allowed to conscientiously object from public schools. Yes, they may be objecting to sound science, but I assure you, plenty of parents will do so and teach their kids likewise even if they spend their afternoons in class. Allowing conscientious objectors from public schools is an acknowledgement that those in power, those who control curriculums, may not always be right. Most German commentary has been derisive of these "Fundy-Christians" (as the German version of the Spiegel headline called them), and much of the commentary posted under the article swing between bewilderment and sarcasm. "I'm sure Ned Flanders will welcome them with open arms," scoffed one of them. Imagine, then, if fundamentalist Christians took over the government. Imagine that through whatever societal change, they were elected peacefully with the enthusiastic support of the majority. Imagine how they might change the public school curriculum if they were given the power to do so. What would the same commentators think of a family who fled to America because they wanted to teach their children natural selection and give them the chance to read Voltaire?

As Germans are well aware, wretched people with wicked intentions can obtain access to government. What if, over the protests of clergy and scientists, racism came back into vogue and became required reading for our children. Such a scenario is very unlikely, but it could happen. Good educational policy must allow for the objectors. Sure, regulate and check in on homeschoolers as appropriate. Make sure their children receive a quality education (which has been the case for every homeschooler I know). But for the sake of freedom of conscience, allow it.

Let the Children Read

In an otherwise enjoyable report about the phenomenon that is Harry Potter, the Economist correspondent praises J.K. Rowling for avoiding "the temptation to sneak ideology into children's heads by wrapping it in fantasy. C.S. Lewis's children's books... are spoiled by creeping piety."

Seriously?

One would hope an Economist correspondent is not disturbed by the thought a book with ideas. Historically, the story has always been the preferred method of conveying morality, religion and philosophy. If my literature teachers are to be believed, Homer's Odyssey was meant to reinforce the idea that without the gods, men are nothing, for example. The best books for the smallest children are full little ideologies such as parents should be obeyed, home is a good place to be, or that people who are different should be nonetheless respected.

Lewis is at its best when his writing is clearly Christian. Aslan's (a lion who represents Christ) death and resurrection in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, a boy's transformation and conversion in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan's appearance as a lamb at the end of the same book, a theological discussion with an evil witch (who insists that Aslan is not real, but a projection of cats the children had seen in her underworld) in The Silver Chair, Narnia's creation story in The Magician's Nephew and the apocalypse and paradise in The Last Battle are all Lewis at its best.

I should point out that the correspondent is an equally dismissive of Philip Pullman's "anti-clericalism," which causes his books to "suffer." I have not read his works, but my friends who have unanimously love The Golden Compass, though opinions of the rest of the series are mixed. Pullman is as blatant about his atheism as Lewis is about his Christianity. I suspect that this, in the same way, makes his books more interesting.

Perhaps the writer is offended that children could be exposed to religious (or anti-religious) themes? Pray, to what themes should a child be exposed? Granted, unlike Lewis or Pullman, Rowling's novels are not intended as an apology, per se. The Potter books are exciting as sort of a coming-of-age western with wands instead of guns, complete with a climatic magical shootout. But themes, philosophies, indeed ideologies persist, as they should be. These themes include self-sacrifice, the power of unconditional love and clear definitions of good and evil. No children's writer can be expected to write something without saying something about anything. The article even acknowledges feminist critiques of the series, but I wonder if a feminist might say the books are "spoiled" by creeping traditional gender roles. Some conservative Christians object to any book with magic, fearing that all such roads lead to demonic practices. Not every parent will approve of the Hogwarts hijinks, complete with snogging, butter beer and, something that made one parent I know very uncomfortable, perpetual lying to authority. Indeed, as the correspondent acknowledges, when a book becomes so popular, the critiques will follow.

The books that convey some sort of ideology, intentionally or unintentionally, must greatly outnumber those who somehow manage to avoid it, and many of those who try to avoid it command us to believe in nothing. Whoever penned the article should acknowledge that he or she simply is uncomfortable with religious ideas and speak with or censor his or her children as appropriate. Indeed both Lewis and Pullman were forthright about their intentions. While my own parents, encouraged certain books (as Christians, they happily read the Narnia series to my sisters and me), I am grateful that they did little to censor my reading. They did, however, keep the communication open. I hope to do the same with my children. I agree with and will attempt to raise them in the Christian faith, and Lewis will surely play a role. If they want to read Pullman, Rowling, Dan Brown or anything else that is clearly not bent on destruction, they may, but I will speak with them about it. Movies, TV shows, websites even commercials convey some sort of worldview, some of which I will find appealing and some I will find appalling. The fact that Lewis and Pullman have something intelligent to say about transcendence should be refreshing, and the fact that the writer seems to expect children to grow up without reference to ideas, or indeed ideologies, is baffling.

Children will be getting ideas from somewhere or something, all the time. Their teachers, whatever the form, will only in the rarest of cases be without bias. Part of their growing up will be deciding for themselves. Let's guide them, but let's give the a little more credit.

A Camp for Atheists is a Chance for Engagement

If I had grown up going to the Christian summer camps Lexington describes in this week's Economist column, I think I would start an atheist summer camp too. Atheists, evidently, find comfort that a camp promoting skepticism is joining a market saturated by, among other things, religion.

About the atheist summer camp, Lexington writes: "They are not pushy or preachy, but scepticism flavours nearly everything they do. Lunch comes with a five-minute talk about a famous freethinker. Campers are told that invisible unicorns inhabit the forest, and offered a prize if they can prove that the unicorns do not exist. The older kids learn something about the difficulty of proving a negative. The younger ones grow giggly at the prospect of stepping in invisible unicorn poop."

How should we as Christians react to this? According to Lexington, "the kind of people who send their kids to Bible camp are appalled. Answers in Genesis, a Christian fundamentalist group, berates Camp Quest for drumming a “hopeless” world view into young minds."

I'm not so sure this camp, as Lexington describes it, is any more hopeless than the worldview of their atheist parents, or for that matter, the barrage of media children receive every day. I think, instead, this could help us better approach our atheist friends. Like Christians, and like almost any other subset of people in the U.S., atheists feel alienated. Lexington devotes a good portion of the column to the "lonely 1 in 12," and describes how less likely they would obtain elected office as compared to almost any other unpopular minority. Yet, they do not have networks through churches or other associations that almost any other group would have. Atheists need community, as do all of us. Consider this paragraph, for a moment:

"Many atheists opt to remain in the closet, except perhaps with their closest friends. It is the path of least resistance. Deny the existence of God and you may be challenging your neighbours’ most deeply held beliefs. That could get you ostracised, so why risk it? Yet living in the closet has costs. Christians have their beliefs constantly reinforced by neighbours who proudly and openly share them. Atheists often wrestle with their consciences alone, even though they are perhaps 8% of the population. Christopher Hitchens, the author of an antireligious polemic in 2007, observed that half the people who came to his book-promoting speeches had thought they were the only atheists in town."

Two weeks ago, my pastor preached on hospitality, and that hospitality towards those who provide us with no advantage, including the alienated, is a mark of a mature Christian. Since then, I have wonderd where we are with hospitality. Has Christian hospitality gotten to the point that atheists must wrestle with their consciences alone? Do we really need to ostracize anyone who challenges our most deeply held beliefs? The victims of the so-called culture wars are not necessarily the children who are exposed to pagan or atheistic ideas - that is unavoidable in this world. The victims are those who grow up in an environment where friendship with those of different beliefs is discouraged and conversations between believers and non-believers are squelched. If atheists feel unwelcome in American society, however secular we are becoming, then who can blame them for wanting their own camps and social institutions. We need to see this as a new opportunity for engagement.

There are a couple things to find encouraging about a summer camp for the children of Atheists. First, it is a reminder that everyone is seeking community. God made us for it, and commanded us to love each other. The camp will not last forever, and if we can provide, or at least be part of, community in a way that is genuinely loving and welcoming, there is a good foundation for further, potentially life changing conversation. Second, the seeds of skepticism can be used in our favor. If this camp truly encourages children to "weigh the evidence" and "explore ethical questions," then the foundations can be made for belief. Coming from ministry in Germany, a country where for obvious historical reasons skepticism is held in relatively high regard, I learned that a true skeptic will eventually be skeptical of other skeptics. Moreover, we could almost say that the history of Christianity is rich in skepticism. Jesus taught his followers to be skeptical of the ways of the world, and He ushered in a new Kingdom where the meek were blessed and enemies were loved. They were skeptical of imperialism, revolution and showy religiosity. We protestants can look to Martin Luther, who was skeptical of the structures of the Catholic church. Skepticism cannot be the end-all some may want it to be, but it can be the beginning of changed lives.

We need not always be "appalled," surprised or intimidated by the actions of unbelievers. We need to lovingly engage atheists (and anyone else) at the community level, encourage any honest search for truth, speak the truth ourselves and pray that they will find it.