Sencha Steeping

Eric's Fables

2009-08-17T19:44:00.001-07:00

A series of moralistic tales... with animals.

Eucharists I have Known Pt. I

2009-01-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

Surprisingly it has been two months since Advent began. The days seem short not only by measure of their daylight, but also seem to pass by at a preternatural rate. And so in an attempt to slow myself, today I shall reflect on my journey through my first year observing the church calendar.

I mentioned Advent above because it marks the start of my journey (something I did not realize the significance of at the time), and I had planned on writing these reflections during the season as a sort of new year’s remembrance; however, time does seem to move quickly.

Advent

Advent is full of anticipation. Christ is soon to enter the world, and so his way must be prepared. During the season of Advent we dwell in the prophetic writings, recognizing that Jesus does not exist in a vacuum, but rather he is the fulfillment of God’s narrative of redemption. Proclaim this good news: Jesus is coming!

I recall last year’s Advent to be a joyous time. The season reeked of adventure and newness. God was on the move and nothing could stop his coming. I too was on an adventure, finding life where there should be none (a virgin’s womb, a lovelorn heart). Oh yes, there was doubt and pain, for this too is part of Advent – what must the holy couple have felt? Life at Mount Hermon seemed to be producing more questions than answers, I did not know what would come next or how to ameliorate the broken relationships in my life, but God was indeed on the move!

In taking the Eucharist I learned so much. Where before Advent had been rote, simply a byline to Christmas, I saw the work Christ willingly sought to do in the world. The Eucharist breathes life even in its foreshadowing of death. In the proclamation of Christ’s coming, we affirm what his mission is to be. Christ will indeed die upon the tree, but so too will come his eternal resurrection and his second coming. Yes, the Eucharist in Advent teaches waiting.

Christmas

The Anticipation of Advent finds its fulfillment in Christmas, the doubt and pain are answered in hope. Christ has entered the world and God’s great plan for our restoration is set in motion.

While Christmas is the shortest season of the year at a mere twelve days, Christmas seems to draw on and on. I am used to the Christmas music and decorations lasting for months, but that has always proceeded Christmas. I am not used to Christmas continuing after the fact – by that time I am ready for the next thing.

The Eucharist during Christmas is performed so joyously. It must be taken so, as there is such a short time to take it in. It taught me that it is okay to dwell in fulfillment… something I usually take as suspect. I was born a doubter. However, as Thomas Merton says: “If I had not doubted, I could not have believed.” Eucharist at Christmas will make a believer out of you – or at least it does of me. There is so much to be doubted: Can this child truly be the one to save the world? Will the joy he brings last, or is will I be as empty after this holiday as I so frequently am? However, the Eucharist is a reminder of Christ’s triumph – that Jesus will not leave me empty. Ah yes – life and life to the full!

Epiphany

Where Christmas brings promise to the Jews, Epiphany reminds us that this joy is for the entire world. Not only do we see the Adoration of the Magi, but also the Baptism and his turning water into wine. Christ begins his ministry, and the long march to Easter begins. The entire world is afforded a glimpse into the divine.

Epiphany is my favorite season of the Church year. It is hopeful. It is confirming. It asks for rejoicing. As I just wrote about all this in my previous post, I will not dwell here for long.

The Eucharist in Epiphany conjures mixed emotions. On one hand, I am elated by my inclusion, Christ’s affirmation, and finally his declaration that God desires humanity to enjoy life. What rich blessings to be celebrated Sunday after Sunday… Each Eucharist saying, “Eric, you are clean. You are worthy.” However, each successive Eucharistic feast brings us one step closer to Lent. Epiphany is a reminder of the grave cost Jesus paid for my inclusion, and while I rejoice, the Eucharist often brings a tear to my eyes.

To be continued…

Unorganized Reflections on Epiphany

2009-01-08T10:50:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago we entered into what is my favorite season in the long march of the Liturgical Year: Epiphany. I find it quite unfortunate that we give it so little heed in the Protestant tradition, for it signals hope and restoration for the large majority of Christians today.

The Roman Catholic Daily Missal of 1962 says about this season:

The word “Epiphany” means “manifestation.” The Church in the Mass commemorates a triple manifestation of Christ: to the Magi, that is, to the Gentiles; in His Baptism, when the Voice from heaven declared: “This is My Beloved Son”; and in the miracle of changing water into wine at Cana.

While all of these are wondrous events in the life of our Lord, I focus particularly upon the manifestation to the Magi. Why is it that St. Matthew included the account of these Magi? Aren’t we usually told that he wrote to show Jesus’ fulfillment of law and prophecy; the culmination of the Old Covenant? This is a Jewish message to be sure. So again, why these Gentiles?

Matthew knew that Israel was never meant to exist in isolation – one of the three elements of Abraham’s inheritance was to be a blessing to the whole earth. This is why Isaiah could prophesy:

It shall come to pass in the latter days
that the mountain of the house of the LORD
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be lifted up above the hills;
and all the nations shall flow to it,
and many peoples shall come, and say:
"Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,
to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths."
For out of Zion shall go the law,
and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall decide disputes for many peoples;
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war anymore. (Isaiah 2:2-4)

All the nations are afforded the right to flow into the Temple of the Lord and share in God’s good bounty. Epiphany is not only about the world’s inclusion in the work of Jesus, but it is also signals his healing work in us to usher in peace and life to the full.

Proceeding the anticipation of Advent and the jubilation of Christmas, and preceding the long mourning of Lent, Epiphany is a joyous albeit reflective time. None will be excluded, but the cost for such inclusivity is great. It will be a long Lent where “Hallelujah” is heard no more, but I must lament through it if I wish to see Christ’s work in Epiphany accomplished in that tomb so near Calvary. Yes, the work started by the Adoration of the Magi is completed in Jesus’ death and resurrection, and in this Paul can write: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28) Like no other time, Epiphany gives me confidence that I am accepted and have a lot in the Kingdom of God.

But lest we Gentiles grow arrogant in role we play in the Church or throwing off of the old law or whatever else we might say to remove blessing from the Jews, may we be reminded how heretical these thoughts are! I plead with Paul (Romans 11) that we humbly accept our being grafted into the root of Israel. If the world finds blessing in our inclusion, how much more so will all be blessed with the fullness of Jacob! This too I see as a hope for Epiphany. It is not God’s plan to have a new people of blessedness, but a single Body composed of all the peoples of the earth.

With such bold claims, I will go further. I defer to the wisdom of Hafiz, the great Sufi poet, whom I imagine was very close to the heart of God:

The most
Difficult task in hunting you, God,

Is using those arrows and bow
You gave my heart.

They are made of plain water I aim
A great distance
At the Sun.

Hafiz, who can understand
The profound absurdity of all effort
On this
Path.

Why not state this ancient dilemma
From another view.

Listen:
Not once in our history
Has an ant gone out and captured
An elephant single-handed.

Does that tell you anything new?
Maybe not.

This teaching business
Isn’t
Easy.

We are all in this together. What an exciting thing to write.

Retirement

2008-11-04T13:58:00.000-08:00

In the light of recent changes in my life, I have decided to enter semi-permanent retirement. Naturally I am not referring to work, as I am unemployed at the moment, but it does mean that Oolong Fancies and Sencha Steeping will both cease to update. For those of you who religiously check these two sites, this will come as no shock. Perhaps an article or two will be posted here and there, but for all practical purposes, these two blogs will be defunct.

Do not cry, my dear reader, for there is a new project in the works. I hope to unveil it tomorrow with an introduction and edited version of a post that piqued my interest this summer.

It has been a good run, dear readers. Peace be with you.

Eric Garner

Time

2008-09-24T20:00:00.000-07:00

It is not uncommon for me to fantasize about easy ways of acquiring knowledge. I’ve long thought one of the most useful superpowers would be the ability to absorb and retain something’s knowledge by simply touching it. Just think about the possibilities of rushing down library aisles with arms outstretched to a plentitude of information.

Once I daydreamed about being mysteriously sucked out of time to a very Chrono-Trigger-End-of-Time-esque library where atop a platform floating in nothingness I had access to every piece of media ever created. Over the course of an eternity alone, I read everything and memorize most. I even write a tome or two of my own. Later I am miraculously transported back t real time, the exact moment I left; however, all this knowledge has been retained.

My roommate Paul, upon hearing a remark I made about wishing I didn’t have to sleep or get tired, so I could commit my time to others during their waking hours and then accomplish my work during the night, rebuked me for my short-sighted desire. The reason spending time with people or reading or whatever else I could do with my time had value because I sacrificed those other things. I assign value to relationships when I recognize that time doing other things I want to do must be sacrificed for time invested into those relationships.

A simple enough concept.

However, I don’t seem to get it. I fervently want to both invest all my time in myself and all my time in others. Being a recent grad student, I am well aware of the value I assign each day to study – it is second only to sleeping (but they are in close contest with one another).

Do I want to stand by this decision to assign such great value to studiousness? For now the answer is yes.

However, I would rather bring up a slightly disjointed point here from my time at Echo this last summer:

Every other week I took a group of students to an assisted living facility in Santa Cruz and every week that which I witnessed blew me away: the ministry of time. Having worked the last three years in the non-profit sector, I have come to have rather definite stances on what to require from volunteers (expertise, proper tools), thinking that those receiving any charity’s service ought to experience high quality work. High School students are not especially equipped for such tasks. However, I witnessed time and time again how limited my scope had become – our High Schoolers had not training, no expertise, no tools for accomplishing the task of serving the residents of these assisted living homes, and yet beautiful ministry was being done!

What was it that worked so effectively? What was it that ignited a fire in the eyes of these disaffected and cast-off men and women? Time. We came with but time to offer, and in that time these students came to love the residents and the reciprocal as well. It didn’t matter that we had nothing else to offer because time was all that was required.

I believe that time is one resource we all have. Granted, we may have already allotted off so much that we feel oppressed by time, but let us not fall into some fatalistic trap of assuming that we are stuck in bondage. We all have the ability to give time to another or to invest it in something we value. The reason time is so precious is that it is so limited. The resident at the assisted living home knows this. This slow on the uptake grad student is learning this as well.

So, I want to use my time to affirm others and validate their worth, for people are indeed worthy of time. Let’s step that up a bit: people are worthy of my time.

Thursdays

2008-07-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

I am fortunate enough to live in one of the more beautiful places I know. Morning walks through prayer labyrinths under overcast skies often burn away into a blue landscape populated by the sun’s warming light. A slight saltiness is detectable in the air as if the ocean refuses to be forgotten amidst the hullabaloo sounding through the streets. Poetry is rich a sweet here – every syllable full of potential vigor for they who would hear. In this landscape I am not surprised that days oft end with lilac sunsets of a desperate color, which hint of the morning’s greyness, despite the obviously clear skies. I am not sad for my sleep rapidly approaching.

If reason were all, reason
would not exist—the will
to reason accounts for it;
it’s not reason that chooses
to live; the seed doesn’t swell
in its husk by reason, but loves
itself, obeys light which is
its own throught and argues the leaf
in secret; love articulates
the choice of life in fact; life
chooses life because it is
alive; what lives didn’t begin dead,
nor the sun’s fire commence in ember.
-Wendell Berry

Linnaea's, or How to Say 'Goodbye'

2008-05-24T10:15:00.000-07:00

I know that I have written about Linnaea's Cafe before, but it is most assuredly worthy of a second entry.

Much of my college career is directly linked to this place. I've studied here, laughed here, dated here, and cried here. It was here that Billy Dunaway and I first began discussing his conversion to Catholicism; Faith and I went through Nobakov's Lolita; Colleen, Katie and I practiced making animal noises whilst sampling a various assortment of pastries and cakes; Sarah and I did so little homework while having such good intentions; and Paul, Jordan and I would talk about the most inane and important aspects of our lives.

Later I would stop every morning on my way to Lifewater - sharing a cup of tea with Darci and Danielle was a staple part of my day. I considered taking up residence in the loft and raising a cat to keep any mice at bay... I even designed a hamster-ball-like contraption for the side of my bike to take the cat around town with me.

The point: Linnaea's is important to me.

I am currently sitting in the garden area next to the photosynthesis mural, staring at the plant covered wall. This will be my final trip to Linnaea's for a long time. I would imagine by the time I come back here none of the same baristas will be employed, a new generation of college students will have come and gone, and dozens of artists' shows will have graced Linnaea's walls.

On this trip I have said my farewells to San Luis Obispo - its people and places. Farewell Grace Church and all of its growing Jr. Highers! Ta ta McCollum House! Good bye dance parties! Catch you later Phoenix and Leon's (RIP)! Uptown and SLO Perk, I will miss you! Thank you and good bye Mission! To all of my friends and loved ones here, thank you for everything - you are in my thoughts and prayers. You have all influenced me for the better. I am not the same eighteen-year-old who came to you so few years ago, nor are you the same town I was so confused by that September of 2003.

And finally, so long Linnaea's! I drink a cup of World Peace Tea in your honor!

So many exclamation marks, so little conveyed!

The Elder Son

2008-04-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

I am a resentful person.

I have long been the dutiful son who (despite small attempts at rebellion) has tried to make my family proud. I did not turn to debauchery or any apparent gratifications of my flesh. I tried to always do what’s right. I became seriously messed up.

Today I feverishly read through the majority of Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son, and am convicted by his assessment of the story’s elder son. Twisted by resentment and self-righteousness, this son is unable to find any joy in the return of his wayward brother. “All these years I have slaved for you and never once disobeyed any orders of yours, yet you never offered me so much as a kid for me to celebrate with my friends.” Can’t anyone see the virtue with which I have lived my life? Won’t anyone affirm my obedience?

Perhaps the worst part is that I too am skeptical of this obedience. Nouwen confesses:

“At the very moment I want to speak or act out of my most generous self, I get caught in anger or resentment. And it seems that just as I want to be most selfless, I find myself obsessed about being loved. Just when I do my utmost to accomplish a task well, I find myself questioning why others do not give themselves as I do. Just when I think I am capable of overcoming my temptations, I feel envy toward those who gave in to theirs. It seems that wherever my virtuous self is, there also is the resentful complainer.

“Here, I am faced with my own true poverty. I am totally unable to root out my resentments. They are so deeply anchored in the soil of my inner self that pulling them out seems like self-destruction. How to weed out these resentments without uprooting the virtues as well?”

It is sad how frequently I lament never having lived as a sensualist. Even when I feel most fully drawn into the love of the Father, my mind warps into envy of those who came out of depravity – is my envy of their redemption or of their sin? Is the elder son more jealous of his brother’s return or the experience that led to his homecoming? If I am honest with myself, I resent both.

During my reading this morning I could not stop thinking of Pedro the Lion’s Winners Never Quit, and am listening to it while writing this. There is such evil in self-righteousness – none of us are without sin or need of redemption. We cannot simply let our brother wander off the narrow path toward destruction whilst we merrily pursue our own goodness, making our salvation our sole concern. No, this too is a form of destruction and a flight from God.

The Father in the story runs to His wayward son and embraces him. However, the movement of the Father does not end there. He also approaches His embittered son with tenderness. If the elder son cannot see the joy in his steadfastness, how can he see the joy in the return of his brother? The elder son is also given a chance for redemption.

I am not a lost cause. Christ is in the business of saving sinners like me and restoring them to grace – so that I may too join with the saints in their never-ending songs of praise. The righteousness offered me is one of grace – a righteousness that can soften my heart and fill me with love for my brother.

God’s love must move me away from my desire to be affirmed by the world. It must move me away from my fear of rejection. It must transform me so that I only desire God. “Count it a blessing that you’re such a failure, or your second chance might never have come,” Pedro concludes.

I am blessed in my failings, for they show me I am not as righteous as I have always believed.

What Theological Worldview do You Hold?

2008-04-01T09:23:00.001-07:00

What's your theological worldview?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Neo orthodox

You are neo-orthodox. You reject the human-centredness and scepticism of liberal theology, but neither do you go to the other extreme and make the Bible the central issue for faith. You believe that Christ is God's most important revelation to humanity, and the Trinity is hugely important in your theology. The Bible is also important because it points us to the revelation of Christ. You are influenced by Karl Barth and P T Forsyth.

Neo orthodox

79%

Roman Catholic

71%

Emergent/Postmodern

71%

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan

61%

Classical Liberal

54%

Modern Liberal

54%

Charismatic/Pentecostal

36%

Reformed Evangelical

29%

Fundamentalist

18%

Lenten Wine

2008-03-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

I have been known to enjoy a glass or bottle of wine from time to time, which has certainly made my Lenten disciplines these last five weeks rather temperate.

I think it fair to note that I am not an alcoholic – I do not drink every night, nor do fantasize about sipping a fine Zinfandel throughout the day. However, at the same time, I think that my affinity for wine transcends a mere enjoyment; wine is an integral part of my religious life.

I do not simply mean that wine is one of the hosts by which I celebrate the Eucharist, although I do see it as more a biblical and meaningful element to communion than grape juice can hope to be. I also mean that wine is a way for me to feel the blessings and joy of God. Was Benjamin Franklin really such a hedonist when he said, “beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to prosper?” Psalm 104:15 tells us that God made “wine that gladdens the heart of man,” and who am I to deny this gracious gift of our Lord?

As I often do, allow me to defer to Fyodor Dostoyevsky and his masterwork, The Brothers Karamazov. When Aleosha is most defeated (Zossima has died, he is about surrender to the sensualism of the Karamazov) he remembers Jesus’ first miracle at a wedding feast in Cana in Galilee. Our Lord’s first miracle was to transform water into wine. Christ’s first miraculous statement here on earth was for the enjoyment of man – for the gladdening of our hearts. It is God’s will that man enjoys creation, for it was all deemed good, and worthy of sacrifice (as we often see God demand wine be poured upon the alter as a drink offering).

There is great value in this lesson, for it reminds us that our service of the Lord is meant to be a pleasure. When our praise of God is a labor, then it tells us more about the state of our souls than the nature of God. My God tells me that His yoke is easy and His burden light – what reason could I have not to rejoice?

So, am I drunkard? No. However, I am in good company with someone else who enjoyed God’s creation and was scrutinized by the moralists of His day (Luke 7:34).

I hope this explains why there is a degree of mourning this Lent, and why I am so appreciative of this season of preparation for the two loneliest days of the year. Every day I am aware that soon my Lord will be nailed to the tree and then interred in the earth. Every day I prepare myself for feeling the pain of the greatest crime humanity has ever committed: the killing of God.

However, this Lent has also been filled with hope. Every mass is a celebration of Easter, filled with the passion and resurrection of Christ. Every time I approach the altar I break my Lenten fast to receive the life-giving blood of Christ because how can I fast in the presence of the Bridegroom? Every communion is a reminder that this approaching travesty will result in joy. This tension - this paradox is at the heart of the Easter story. This tension is why I can best celebrate my fast by breaking it at the Lord’s Table.

As a slight diversion from the main thrust of these ruminations, I have had the distinct joy of traveling this Lent with Kathleen Norris in her memoir/mediation The Cloister Walk. She has been teaching me patience and love in ways I would have skimmed over in the past. I explained my journey with Mrs. Norris to my good friend Bob (mystic, Canadian) as: “Reading Norris, as with many spiritual matters, is like a fine wine – she leaves me feeling warm, hyper-aware, and filled with joy. She often moves me to tears and encourages contemplation. I know that I can’t digest her in large portions, for there would be danger in the rash decisions I would make based on the strong emotions she evokes. Yes, I feel that way about most religious thought.” Isn’t it true though? How delightful is it to think on our free will/predestination, the Incarnation, and the poetry of the prophets until we take too much of it in and we start acting like bastards? There is a great danger in wine, but there is a greater danger in religion. It (religion or wine, take your pick), like the Sabbath, was made for man, and not the other way around. It is not meant for Phariseeism.

So, where does this leave me? I will welcome Christ into Jerusalem on Sunday for one last feast before he bears the full brunt of my sins the following Friday. I will weep and mourn at His crucifixion. I will rejoice and drink a glass of wine for life on Easter.

Let us take Solomon’s wisdom to heart, and:

“Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favors what you do.” Ecclesiastes 9:7

I wish you all a blessed Easter.

Mars Hill Essay Rough Draft

2008-03-04T11:26:00.000-08:00

Note: I apologize for not going through and adding the HTML for all of my italicized and bolded words, but I am lazy.
-----------------

“Shall I post three tents?” is a simple enough question. However, these were anything but simple circumstances – two dead men, prophets, return to earth, and yet the amazement of their appearance is overshadowed by the miraculous change of a man. Jesus Christ, the self-proclaimed Son of Man transfigured into the likeness of the Almighty. The Son of God. We like his three disciples who joined him on that mountaintop so many blessed nights ago, are part of this story and must respond to its mystical, impossible events.

For years Saint Matthew’s account of Christ’s Transfiguration amazed and baffled me – held my attention but arrested any evolution of thought. I was captivated by the miracle, but remained at a loss for what to learn about Jesus. What does Matthew say here that cannot be found elsewhere? Is the Transfiguration necessary to the Gospel?

Perhaps I would have eventually come to a peaceful position on my own; however, during my second year in college, I came across the work of singer/songwriter Sufjan Stevens (banjoist, doubter) who apparently also felt some need to respond to the Transfiguration in a song bearing the same name on his 2004 release, Seven Swans. While Stevens rejects being labeled a Christian artist, (due to the absurdity of using “Christian” as an adjective rather than as a noun) he tackles sacred and personal questions in a skeptical and public environment. What motivates him to exhibit himself in such a fashion, I will not guess, but I do appreciate the direction his song has pointed me for understanding Christ’s mysterious transformation.

The initial power of Stevens’ song comes not in lyric, but in a rolling landscape painted by a dream-like banjo intro. Throughout the song, a solitary banjo carries the majority of the narrative with occasional accompaniment by horns, glockenspiel, and bass. There is an ephemeral quality to this music that carries the urgency of this revelation – when the song ends with a final trumpet note, I wish to clutch to the experience for a few moments longer, steeping in the Christ’s revelation. Unlike a pop-song, where the lyrics and music are two disconnected pieces forced into a catchy amalgam, “The Transfiguration” is expertly wedded in form and content – both elements are indispensable for The Transfiguration according to Sufjan.

While the music and lyrics of “The Transfiguration” are two parts of a beautiful whole, the verse of the song is essential for my understanding of Matthew 17. Stevens’ lyrics are obviously informed by the Synoptic Gospel accounts, as the first half of the song closely follows the narrative of these texts. Stevens’ account begins with Jesus taking the three disciples with him up the mountain to pray, when suddenly “his countenance was modified, his clothing was aflame.” (Stevens) Moses and Elijah appear, Peter offers to set up a tabernacle for these glorified visitors, and finally God appears in a cloud and affirms Christ as His Son. The disciples are asked to keep the vision a secret until the time has come. All of this closely resembles the Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration; however, Stevens also alters the text. The slight differences between the Biblical accounts and that of Stevens are not simply worthy of note, but are essential to what I believe is Stevens’ understanding of the text, and what has aided in my application of it.

The first major deviation is a matter of commentary inserted by Stevens after the appearance of Moses and Elijah: “Two men appeared: Moses and Elijah came;  they were at his side. /The prophecy, the legislation spoke of whenever he would die.” (Stevens) This commentary is important for threefold reason. Reason the first, it acknowledges the role these two men played in Jewish tradition – Moses as the giver of the Law and Elijah, the great prophet. These two men appear as Jesus’ inferiors to affirm him, although they are two of the most important men in Israel’s history. This leads into reason the second, this comment affirms that Jesus is contained within the traditions of these two men – these two elements of Jewish scripture. Christ is central to both the Law and the Prophets, which is why he could make the claim: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” (Matthew 5:17) Finally, reason the third, I believe this comment remains true to the texts of the three Synoptic Gospel writers. Saint Matthew in particular wrote to a Jewish audience, and wanted to depict the consistency between Christ and the Hebrew tradition. This clarifying thought by Stevens is a valued comment on the original text.

The next discrepancy between the two sources comes with Stevens’ ambiguous reporting of dialogue. The narrative of Stevens’ song concludes with:

What he said to them,
the voice of God: the most beloved son.
Consider what he says to you, consider what's to come.
The prophecy was put to death,
was put to death, and so will the Son.
And keep your word, disguise the vision 'till the time has come. (Stevens)

In the Gospel accounts it is merely the first two lines of this proclamation made by the Father: "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him." (Matthew 17:5) However, Stevens blurs the lines between what Christ speaks and what is spoken by the Father, attributing it all to God. The distinction between the separate parts of the Godhead is muddled, and Christ’s divinity is announced. This is the largest deviation from the Gospel accounts, but once again—I believe—it holds to the spirit of the text.

The final deviation from the text comes not in narrative, but in response. Stevens’ song concludes in a crescendo of instrumentation and four lines of pleading for God’s presence:

Lost in the cloud, a voice. Have no fear! We draw near!
 Lost in the cloud, a sign. Son of man! Turn your ear.
 Lost in the cloud, a voice. Lamb of God! We draw near!
 Lost in the cloud, a sign. Son of man! Son of God! (Stevens)

These almost chanted lines call out for an incarnate God; Emmanuel. Stevens responds to the Transfiguration by crying out that Jesus is both the Son of Man and the Son of God – as Karl Barth might put it: man glorified and God abased. Stevens affirms our need for God to draw near to us, diminishing our role in this relationship as a voice that cries out. And some how in this miraculous revelation of Christ’s personhood and godhood, we are told to have no fear, for God draws near to us. This is the Incarnation.

Stevens opens scripture in an unexpected fashion, a prophet finding hope in the signs of the times and speaks boldly to the masses. Perhaps I can renege my earlier claim of not guessing Stevens’ reasons for publicly examining his personal faith – the Incarnation is something sacred made public, and the Transfiguration is a bold declaration of that Incarnation. Stevens’ provides important insight into the Gospel accounts because he recognizes that they must be responded to – we are part of this story, and we must find a way to participate in it. Allow for me to make that statement more personal:

I am part of Christ’s story, and I must participate in it.

Appendix A

Matthew 17:1-13 English Standard Version

1And after six days Jesus took with him Peter and James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. 2And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light. 3And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4And Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah." 5He was still speaking when, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him." 6When the disciples heard this, they fell on their faces and were terrified. 7But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Rise, and have no fear." 8And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.

9 And as they were coming down the mountain, Jesus commanded them, "Tell no one the vision, until the Son of Man is raised from the dead." 10And the disciples asked him, "Then why do the scribes say that first Elijah must come?" 11He answered, "Elijah does come, and he will restore all things. 12But I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but did to him whatever they pleased. So also the Son of Man will certainly suffer at their hands." 13 Then the disciples understood that he was speaking to them of John the Baptist.

Appendix B

“The Transfiguration” by Sufjan Stevens

When he took the three disciples to the mountainside to pray
His countenance was modified, his clothing was aflame
Two men appeared; Moses and Elijah came
They were at his side
The prophecy, the legislation spoke of whenever he would die

Then there came a word
Of what he should accomplish on the day
Then Peter spoke, to make of them a tabernacle place
A cloud appeared in glory as an accolade
They fell on the ground
A voice arrived, the voice of God
The face of God, covered in a cloud

What he said to them
The voice of God: the most beloved son
Consider what he says to you, consider what's to come
The prophecy was put to death
Was put to death, and so will the Son
And keep your word, disguise the vision till the time has come

Lost in the cloud, a voice: Have no fear! We draw near!
Lost in the cloud, a sign: Son of man! Turn your ear!
Lost in the cloud, a voice: Lamb of God! We draw near!
Lost in the cloud, a sign: Son of man! Son of God!

Appendix C

"The Transfiguration" by Sufjan Stevens

Eric Does _____________ Things

2008-03-03T11:18:00.000-08:00

I am entirely ridiculous. No, seriously! There is nothing in my being that is not absurd.

Sitting in a coffee shop.

Listening to Sufjan Stevens.

Attempting to write a grad school essay about the Transfiguration.

I don't deserve to have a beard!

A Series of Minor Heart Attacks

2008-01-29T14:44:00.000-08:00

To all of you who are my friends, I thank you so much for that undeserved kindness.

Today I completed everything I can possibly do to apply for Princeton. After a nerve-wracking interview, unsettling news about letters of reference, and devastating information about transcripts, I was reduced to a sniveling pile of goo. Thank God for God and my friend Joanna Carr -- these two did a great deal to calm me down as I rectified what I could control and accept what I couldn't.

Thank you also to Paul McCullough for all you have done to help me with through this process.

One school down, three to go.

God Bless Us...

2007-12-25T20:01:00.000-08:00

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!

A merry Christmas to any of you who read this blog -- I pray you have a blessed year of experiencing an incarnate Lord. Go with God, my friends.

Love,
E

No More Excuses

2007-12-03T17:09:00.000-08:00

When Jesus said, "All men will hate you because of me" (Luke 21:17) he didn't excuse us from being hated because we act like jackasses.

Yes, this means you Kirk.

Never Go to War

2007-11-28T22:38:00.000-08:00

“I’m sorry, I actually don’t have any money on me,” and I was telling the truth too to a homeless gentleman who had asked me if I could spare a buck or two.

I guess my eyes betrayed the fact that I would talk to this man, as he persisted, “then perhaps you could just sit down and talk for a while?” He motioned to the pavement next to him and then tilted his head back against the building he was sitting by.

I took the seat without voicing my compliance, but a gave him a warm smirk. He held my eyes in his gaze for a sizable length of time and then dropped his head suddenly.

“You a student?” He didn’t look up at me.

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you studying?”

“History.”

He let out a slight laugh and began tapping his knee. “Cal Poly and history, huh? Good for you.”

“Thanks. It’s not a bad thing to study here, you know?”

“You ever study the wars?” He slowly turned his head and once again transfixed my eyes.

“Yeah, it comes with the territory, I suppose.” I am not a fan of military history – it depresses the hell out of me.

“I went to ‘Nam. I didn’t have to go, but I wanted to. That’s why I get so fucking mad when people talk shit about this war we’re in now. Yeah, I don’t agree with it, but we should show our boys some fucking respect!” He punctuated these last three words with his finger jabbing my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I mechanically agreed.

“You know those anti-war posters up on Higuera?” His lip upturned to reveal a snarl deprived of several teeth.

“No, I don’t think I’ve seen them.”

“You probably ain’t seen them because I went up to them at night at cut the damn things up with my knife. I knew I could have got’in trouble, but I don’t care.” He stopped for a moment, either contemplating his next point or so overcome by disgust that he couldn’t utter any words due to the bile rising in his throat. “Those poor boys don’t deserve that kind of treatment. The whole lot of these protestors don’t understand what it is they’re going through. Fuck!”

I sat there at a loss for words, staring at my shoes. As the silence carried on for minutes, I fidgeted with my foot.

A tender hand came to rest upon my shoulder. I looked up into the teary eyes of the man next to me. “How old are you, kid?”

“Twenty-one,” I answered.

“Shit… I was younger than you when I went overseas. Listen to me, kid, if there was one piece of advice that I could give… are you listening?”

I nodded, my eyes squinting.

“If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be: never go to war. Never fucking go to war. Do you hear me?”

“Yessir.”

“Promise me – you’re a good kid, and I don’t want that to happen to you.” His words were hard to make out as he was starting to sob. “Never go. Don’t go. Never go to war.”

A few tears rolling down my cheeks, I gave him the only answer I could: “I pray I never do.”

“God bless, you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A stylized and abridged account of my meeting David on Mother’s Day, 2007.

I am Wandering

2007-11-04T12:58:00.000-08:00

Today I found myself walking the near deserted streets of Santa Cruz with a deep and glorious secret radiating from within me. The varied crowd of wanderers did not know what sort of pilgrimage I was walking – they could not know the mystery contained within me.

I have recently begun attending Calvary Episcopal Church, and it has rekindled my deep desire for community; it has rekindled my desire to know and be known.

Every Sunday I meet with about thirty people (the youngest, twenty-five years my senior), and participate in the miracle of Christ’s body and blood. I cannot choose with whom I am sharing this divine communion, nor can I ignore that I am bound to these people. They are my fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers. I am privy to the most intimate act they participate in every week – I am there participating with them.

And so, this morning I approached the altar and received the life giving body and saving cup of Jesus Christ. I do not know either the man to my left nor the woman to my right, but we have given each other our peace, we have affirmed that we share the same baptism… We are striving to be saints.

Mass concludes, and I depart from my fellow congregants. There is an enduring chill in the streets and the other sojourners pull their coats against their bodies. I can feel the cold, but I am not concerned by it. There is a mysterious warmth radiating inside of me, and I find my lips mouthing what seems to fill my whole body, “Kyrie eleison—Kyrie eleison—Kyrie eleison.”

Quick Disclaimer 2

2007-10-27T00:05:00.001-07:00

Hello dear friends,

I do not intend to use this blog nearly as frequently as my beloved Oolong Fancies; however, I do want to leave a place for me to ruminate on some serious issues.

I have a feeling that posts here, aside from being less frequent, will be more scholarly or at least more introspective. I have some big questions that I would like answers to, and since I'm not quite so hopeful as to think that I will come to anything definitive, I would like to hear some feedback on these thoughts.

And so, I invite you to join me in this strange digital community. It's something anyways.