So, what do YOU see in the tortilla? A simple stain-mark? A scorch-patch? Or an apparition of . . . .? Is it a face, or simply a silhouette of a head? Whose head? Is it facing forward, or away? Is it Asian, African or Anglo?

I was reminded of this phenomenon of recognizing famous folks in food when I read a quotation* from French-Cuban author Anais Nin: "We do not see things are they are, we see them as we are". And that led me to recall the line from the U2 song "Walk On" in which Bono refers to "home' as "A place that has to be believed to be seen". And from there to a line from the movie "The Santa Clause II"- "It's not 'seeing is believing;' its 'believing is seeing.' " If I believe that that's the head of John Elway or Harrison Ford or almost anyone else (Bono?), I can hold that tortilla as a miracle in masa harina!

I don't want, however, to focus on flat-breads. I want to muse on how I perceive events and their implications. Is my encounter with a friend any "better" than an encounter with someone with whom I have "issues"? Certainly I approach the encounters differently; I almost can't help it. But my hesitancy in the latter situation can very easily (and often does) blind me to the possibilities before me. I "believe" that the meeting might go poorly. Why, then, am I surprised when it does?

I'm in the business of co-creating my future. And I can "walk on" into that future with hope or resignation; that's a choice I make. It doesn't necessarily come naturally. I'm having to learn new habits of being, habits that see potential in each engagement. I have to learn to believe in a better outcome to see it emerge. Resignation, I've come to understand, is a recipe for stagnation.

We're seeing this borne out in the news almost every day as governments in the Middle East are being toppled by folks who believe in a different future, who act, and who are now seeing that new reality emerge. Hope is in the driver's seat, not the status quo. And now the figures in the North African sands are taking on new characteristics. What will WE see in those sands?

Hope, not despair. Expectation, not resignation. Belief in a place that might be seen.

Faith.

Blessings,

 Gary

We DO need another hero!*

Last week on the Driscoll Bridge, my office offered passers-by the opportunity to create "Valentines for Vets". Supplies were available to create "custom-made" valentines that were, at the end of the week, delivered to the VA Hospital here in Denver. The Chaplain at the hospital then delivered them to patients on Valentine's Day. At our end of the process, we had no idea who'd be the recipient (although several students specified that their valentine went to a veteran of a specific branch of the military). All the valentine-makers knew was that their card would be given to someone who had made the sacrifice of serving our country in the military.

As I said, we had supplies available: stickers (hearts, flags, smiley faces, stars, patriotic symbols, etc.), different colored pens and markers, and several rubber stamps. There were several stamps with the theme of "Thanks". But one stamp received particular attention. It said:

HERO: An ordinary person facing extraordinary circumstances

and acting with courage, honor, and self-sacrifice.

On the front of the card, on the inside, on the envelope -- that stamp (along with one or more of the "thank you" stamps) was probably the most-used single "craft supply". Notable!

Equally notable were the number of folks who, when told where the cards were going, were even MORE eager to make a card than they were when they simply saw the table. There was clearly something compelling about honoring the men and women who served, and who were now at the VA Hospital. I particularly enjoyed hearing some of them say, "Who wouldn't want to make a valentine for a Vet?" All told, in 4 hours, we had about 45 - 50 cards made.

Certainly the veterans who walked by were very appreciative of what we were doing. But those who were making the cards -- especially those who chose the "Hero" stamp -- were making a statement that we need heroes, and that we need to honor heroes. We are, I think, right now a culture that wants something substantive for which to cheer. I think that is one reason why we were (and continue to be) so captivated by what's happening in the Middle East. Common people are rising up and demanding a better life, a more just government. And they are doing that at some peril to themselves (as I was writing this, the NY Times afternoon update appeared in my email with news of crackdowns and protests in Yemen, Bahrain and Libya!). The photo above is of Egyptian Christians linking hands in Cairo's Tahrir Square, PROTECTING Muslims at their daily prayers during the demonstrations. Common cause crossing religious boundaries. In my mind, heroes.

Who ARE our heroes? Do we even think that way anymore? I just did a web search on the words "hero" and "heroes". The first page of results for "heroes" pointed to sites devoted to the television series "Heroes". The first page of results for "hero" had more pointers to articles about that same series, as well as a movie entitled "Hero" than it did to articles about virtuous, brave, people. Is the "heroic" going the way of the "virtuous" or . . . the dodo?

I really don't think so. But, like honor, or virtue, or courage, the heroic isn't regularly discussed. And maybe it should be; we might start feeling better about the world in which we live. Maybe simply recalling who are, or were, OUR own, individual, heroes and sharing conversation about them would be a way to start a revolution. Or by watching for, and honoring, random acts of heroism -- like stopping on the bridge and making valentines for vets.

Blessings,

Gary

*With apologies to Tina Turner.

Picking up the Pieces

I was listening to an interview earlier this week with Terry Tempest Williams, the author of Finding Beauty in a Broken World (Pantheon, 2008). A portion of the book was read during the interview in which Ms. Williams recounts some of her experiences learning how to make mosaics:

Luciana stands next to me and cuts several gold tesserae and shows me the line to follow to make the stems of lilies. She encourages me to break up the gold with tesserae made of yellow sandstone.

'It makes it more interesting to vary the textures,' she says. 'Never use too much of any one color, not even gold. In mosaic, it is the tension that ties one tesserae to another.'

I cut and set the lines of gold.

She asks me to move and sits down in my seat and instantly begins cutting more tesserae and placing them where they should be.

'See here,' she says, running her finger across the arching line just above the first lily on the left. 'You must pay attention to what the ancient mosaicists did with color. It may not make sense to you, but stand back and squint.'

I follow her instructions. It's true; what appears illogical or abrupt close up blends from afar. A chartreuse tessera that jars my eye when it's close becomes a glint of light on the dark green stem. It's as though sunlight has entered the room.

I began to muse on how often I neglect to "vary the textures" in my reading, viewing, and thinking. Many years ago I used to always read at least two books at the same time -- on different subjects. I was often amazed at the way that a book on religious history (for example) was illuminated by a fantasy novel, or a treatise on critical theory made sense because of a mystery. Political and media pundits are pointing out how much of our television and on-line viewing is simply finding the commentators with whom we already agree, so that our currently-held positions receive some "professional" validation. Very little variation of the texture there!

I haven't seen the "live version" of the mosaic above, but I would imagine that if I were to stand quite a ways back from it, I wouldn't notice the chartreuse piece in the middle of the flower. If, however, it weren't there, the magenta flower most likely wouldn't appear as interesting. It may appear as a nice mosaic, but one crafted by a novice.

I would hope that I could be more than a novice when it comes to appreciating the textures of the world around me. Certainly the pieces I choose to pick up . . . . well, I need to choose carefully. Or I need to work on my skills of discernment. Communities of faith help with this process; that's one of their great values-especially those communities that haven't bound together simply to avoid the textures. They help us stand back and see the bigger picture -- if not simply the current view, then one informed by history

So now I have to decide which second book will find a place on my nightstand. Maybe Finding Beauty in a Broken World.

Blessings,

Gary

Viking Virtue

I was reading recently in the New Testament book of Galatians (a letter from the apostle Paul to the Christians in Galatia). There is a passage towards the end of that letter that contains two lists. The first is a list of "the works of the flesh" (Gal 5:19-21) that includes all those "bad behaviors" that provide the plots for most day-time and night-time TV dramas (jealousy, quarrels, drunkenness, etc) and big-budget movies (impurity, sorcery, etc.). The second list is the "fruit of the Spirit" (Gal 5:22-23) that includes all of those good qualities parents would like to see in their children (patience, generosity, self-control, etc.). Although the two sets of behaviors/attitudes are not called "vices" or "virtues", it is easy to see them that way-and, of course, they played their roles in developing the classical western lists of the Seven Deadly Sins (i.e., vices) and the Seven Heavenly Virtues.

And, as I thought more about these lists -- especially those that might be categorized as "vices" -- and how they play out in our common (cultural and political) conversations, I was struck by how much we focus on SOME vices and ignore others. Another such list in the New Testament lumps together as equally odious: envy, gossip, murder, slander, (and one of my current favorites) "rebelliousness towards parents" (Rom1:28). Now we'll sit up, take notice, and condemn someone if murder is involved -- or, in our current climate, some sexual indiscretion involving a politician. But when was the last time you heard a politician campaign on stamping out foolishness? Or insolence? Or jealousy? Or, heaven forbid, greed? Maybe all of those have become so much a part of our landscape that we don't care -- or we NEED them to become successful?

Much of our legal system -- every legal system -- seems to be built around the DIS-couragement of vice. Don't do this! The penalty for that is [fill in the blank]. Law enforcement agencies have special branches known as "Vice Squads".

What if we spent an equal amount of energy EN-couraging virtue? (Okay, so prime-time television might not be as interesting -- but a lot of it is pretty bad anyway!) What if we had "Virtue Squads" running around giving rewards to everyday people who LET that other driver into traffic or who empty the dishwasher without being asked? What if we really started viewing life through the lens of an abundance of virtue, rather than as an absence of vice?

And, in posing that question, I wondered how I might do that. So I've set myself a little task for the next week: I've gone back to the Seven Heavenly Virtues (prudence, justice, restraint, temperance, faith, hope, and love or charity), and I'm going to focus on embodying ONE each day for the next seven days. Who knows what that will yield? But focusing on the virtues is something that just about every culture and religion teach (and, not surprisingly, there is a lot of overlap). The picture above represents the Viking Noble Virtues (which appeal a bit to me, being half-Swedish).* But there are Samurai (Bushido) virtues; the Noble Eightfold Path of Buddhism can be seen as a list of virtues; Benjamin Franklin developed a list of thirteen virtues.

Interested in trying it too?

Blessings,

Gary

*Full disclosure -- there's some disagreement as to how much these "noble" virtues were REALLY spelled out among the Vikings. But I liked them!

Well, bit my tongue!

I am teaching an Honors Seminar entitled "Pets, Partners or Pot-roast" this quarter. It is NOT solely about whether or not to eat meat, nor is it focused on animal rights; both of those topics are, however, part of the course. It is really a opportunity for us all to consider how we make decisions in a complex world, especially when we may make decisions whose outcomes conflict with one another (e.g., "Livestock=bad; leather jackets=good." Huh?).

One of our readings for this past week was in an article by CU professor Marc Bekoff*, entitled "Deep Ethology, Animal Rights, and the Great Ape/Animal Project: Resisting Speciesism and Expanding the Community of Equals"**. In the article he reports the hesitance of some researchers to name the animals with which they work; Jane Goodall, for example, was criticized by some colleagues for giving the chimps names rather than numbers. He then observes that many scientists keep pets (and name them), but those same scientists will not give animals of the same species names when they are in the lab. Animals at home are part of the family; animals in the lab are something else: "lab animals", and thus safe to experiment on.

This got me to thinking about how we use names, or other words, to distance ourselves from people (or other animals!) who are not like us. This is so obvious when we demonize an enemy, using very pejorative language (and/or overdone visual caricatures) to drive this point home. An easy example is the word "barbarian" -- a pejorative term used by the Greeks to describe anyone who didn't speak Greek (the non-Greeks' speech sounded like "bar-bar-bar-bar"). But the same "distancing" shows up in non-political ways as well, and in English. When we sit down at table we rarely refer to the piece of meat on our plates as "pig" or "cow" or "sheep" (unless it's a lamb, in which case we have a very different moral ambiguity going on -- as there is also with chickens/ducks or fish). No, most of us buy our "beef", "pork", or "mutton" out of a cold-chest at the supermarket, not even connecting our dinner with the animal who gave its all so that we might eat.

Don't misunderstand me! I'm still so un-reconstructed that I love that slab of hickory-cured pig, or that slice of cow muscle. On the other hand, I have lived on a farm, and have seen an animal go from hoof to table in a matter of hours. No, what I'm recognizing is how my words hurt. They hurt others, certainly. No-one likes to be described by a vulgar epithet. But my words can hurt me. I become desensitized to individuals by the words I use to describe them.

"Right speech" is one of the Eight Noble Truths of Buddhism. Gossip and "loose speech" are warned against in the wisdom traditions of every religious tradition I know. And now we, in the U.S., are being called upon to become more "civil" in our dealings with others-in our speech with others. And I fully agree. What I find on websites/blogs/Facebook, however, regardless of persuasion, is a lot of "othering" language. On the one hand, it doesn't seem in keeping with any notion of civility. But, on the other hand, it keeps the authors/speakers from realizing that there are real people at the other end of their categorizations. Just like cello-wrapped tenderloins help keep us from realizing that there were living animals who were bred and raised for the purpose of feeding us.

I've long felt that "category-lumping" speech does nothing but end conversation and increase resentment-words do hurt. But what I'm recognizing is that when I do it, I'm not only doing damage to the other, I'm hurting myself. Time to bite my tongue and see how that tastes and feels.

Blessings,

Gary

* http://literati.net/Bekoff/

** in Susan J. Armstrong and Richard G. Botzler's The Animal Ethics Reader, 2nd Edition (Routledge, 2008: 151-6).

It was, I suppose, a mean question . . .

. . . but it wasn't meant to be. I was on DU's Driscoll Bridge this week inviting passers-by to share their dream for social justice. Folks were given the opportunity to write, or draw, their dream on a piece of paper (with a dream "bubble"). We then posted the collection on the Bridge (temporarily) for others to see.* A recording of Martin Luther King's famous "I have a dream" speech played in the background.

As is often the case for those of us who "table" on the Bridge, we have to "hawk our wares"-or extend an invitation-to get the attention of the folks walking by. So the question I frequently asked was "Do you have a dream for social justice?" Sometimes people would stop, ask for more information, and record their dream. Sometimes people would walk by, either NOT hearing, or PRETENDING not to hear. And I understand! I do the same thing when I'm focused on getting to my next meeting, or not wanting to engage someone selling knives that cut through tin cans.

What struck me, however, were some of the answers that I got from people who didn't stop, but who did respond verbally. (And, again, I'm NOT trying to be critical or judgmental!) In no reflection of frequency:

"I'm late to class (or a meeting)."

"I've got a dream, but I don't have time to write it down."

"I'll think about it."

"No, thanks." [Note: It's not as if I were selling something!]

"I'll do it on my way back." [Note: A few did!]

And my personal favorite:

"I'm good."

Folks cross the Driscoll Bridge many times a day, and have to deal with the tablers all of the time. I suspect that a lot of the answers were stock replies, a verbal response to a verbal cue, having nothing to do with the content of the question asked.

What provoked my reflective response, however, were two things. First were the people who genuinely stopped, thought for a moment, and couldn't identify an issue of social justice about which they were concerned; they frequently said "I'll think about it" before moving on. I would reply "Great! Thanks!" Second was the "passing by" of so many folks, hearing my question, but not responding. I had to take a step back and look at my reflection.

In my work-a-day world, how often do I think of issues beyond the boundaries of my desk, my skin, or that of my family? Hearing the question, "Do you have a dream for social justice?" might just stop me short, tongue-tied, and a bit chagrined that I didn't have a good answer. I may have even resented the question. Similarly, how often do I walk past an apparent need, or opportunity to serve, simply because I don't want to get involved, or I can't SEE what's right in front of me.

Last Monday, I was on a bike trail in Cherry Creek State Park. A fellow cyclist was walking his bike towards me. I stopped and asked if he needed help. He did -- he'd had two flats (thereby using his one spare tube). I swapped my good spare for his punctured one, and let him use my pump so he could get on his way (he would have had a five mile walk -- not comfortable in bike shoes!). There is a sort of "code" among cyclists that you at least offer help to someone stopped. I was simply observing the code -- paying it forward, I suppose one might now say.

That cyclist's code is nothing less than general codes of care for the other. So many of our traditions suggest that we de-center our concerns in favor of those in need. Stopping to help a fellow cyclist was not social justice, but given the coincidence of that occurrence with my experience of tabling, I want to keep my eyes/ears a little more open to opportunities to do something. And after which I've done that something, I could honestly say, "I'm good."

Blessings,

Gary

*It is my hope to put the "dreams" in some sort of digital format for sharing. The responses were fantastic!

Turn off the CAPS Lock!

Late in the evening on Saturday, August 30th 1997, television viewers in America were hit with the news that Princess Diana had been in a horrific car crash in a Paris tunnel. Her death stunned, and saddened, England and, indeed, the world. Immediately, almost instantaneously, accusations were leveled in every which direction. The one that had (for a while) the most traction was that she'd been hounded, literally, to death by the paparazzi. Certainly those photographers would made dollars by getting pictures of famous folks HAD indeed followed Princess Di around. They were an easy target. (It turned out, by the way, that the vehicle's drive had a blood alcohol content far above a legal/safe limit.) In the sermon I preached the following morning (yup, I had to rewrite the whole thing!), I pointed out that the paparazzi -- even if they WERE in some way responsible -- would have no market for their photos if consumers around the world stopped buying People magazine, Weekly World News, etc.

And so, last week, in the wake of the tragic shootings in Arizona, the fever pitch of accusations was apparent again. The Right shouted at the Left; the Left shouted at the Right. Gun control advocates shouted for legislation; the NRA shouted back. My Facebook page, with my friends' updates, mirrored the debate, pointing me to this newscast or that one. All of the commentators, of course, shouting (figuratively and literally). And then, blessedly, came the appeals for calm. The shooter -- once some research was done -- was apparently not being egged on by one political faction or another. Imagine that!

Yet, in a column in this morning's Denver Post, author Chuck Plunkett writes: "Any expectation that the national political debate is headed for reform in the wake of the Arizona shootings will likely face disappointment, as polls show most Americans don't blame heated rhetoric for the murders and experts note that OUR SYSTEM IS ADVERSARIAL BY DESIGN (emphasis added). . . . Even if [Sen. Mark Udall's bipartisan effort to eliminate party-affiliated seating in Congress] were to succeed, IT WOULDN'T CHANGE THE BIG MEDIA MACHINE THAT AWARDS MULTIMILLION -DOLLAR CONTRACTS TO TALK-SHOW PERSONALITIES WHO MAKE THEIR LIVING STOKING CONTROVERSY(again, emphasis added).

What is it that compels us to jump to conclusions without evidence? What is that compels us to lay blame at our adversaries even if they may not have anything to do with the situation at hand? What is it that compels us to spend our earnings on photos of celebrities, or, by our viewing/reading/listening habits to support loud-mouthed opinionators (and, yes, I made that word up!)? In short, why do we spend so little time on introspection, cleaning up our own house, listening, learning -- and so much time ON SHOUTING, BLAMING, DISTANCING OURSELVES FROM RESPONSIBILITY?


A different columnist, David Brooks, in a piece entitled "Tree of Failure" in today's New York Times poses an answer: "Civility is a tree with deep roots, and without the roots, it can's last. So what are those roots? They are failure, sin, weakness and ignorance. . . . [And] over the past few decades, people have lost a sense of their own sinfulness. children are raised amid a chorus of applause. Politics has become less about institutional restraint and more about giving voters whatever they want at that second. Joe DiMaggio didn't ostentatiously admire his own home runs, but now athletes routinely celebrate themselves as part of the self-branding process. So, of course you get narcissists who believe they or members of their party possess direct access to the truth . . . Of course you get people who gravitate toward the like-minded and loathe their political opponents."

"Failure, sin, weakness and ignorance." Those are both individual and social maladies. They are very difficult to address in any meaningful way while shouting. Maybe, if we as a individuals and a people were quiet and reflective long enough, some sense might weasel its way into our hearts, minds and spirits. And we might be led to repentance.

As one starting point, LET'S TURN OFF THE CAPS LOCK!

done.

now, let us pray for ourselves, and others, and especially for the victims of the shooting, their families, our nation . . . as well as for jared loughner.

Blessings,

Gary