Galatians as Politics

First off - wonderful night. Sitting outside, Rattray's Hal O' the Wynd in my Karl Erik semi-rusticated Dublin. Sublime. Praise God for wifi.

I want to continue to think through the topic of the political gospel by taking a short spin through Galatians. Galatians is, I think, the book that is most commonly thought of in terms of faith vs. works, sort of like a mini-Romans, or James' stepbrother perhaps. But I want to propose - and these ideas are by no means unique to me - that, although the subject of merit-seeking, of righteousness through deeds, may be in play, that it's not the whole story of the book, and perhaps not even the main plot thread. Instead, I think that what Paul is attempting to address is more of an approach to the gospel on cultural or nationalistic terms. In other words, I think the question that Paul is answering is less, "Do I have to do good things in order to be saved?" and more, "Do I have to convert to Judaism to be included in the family of God?" In the process, I think he does, in fact, address the first question as well - but in viewing things from the larger question of social identity and the people of God, I think this book explodes on our ideas of what it means, today, to be the people of God, and how we are to live together as the body of Christ.

What perhaps brings this out most clearly is Paul's opening discussion of the history of his activities in preaching the gospel, culminating in his confrontation with Peter in 2:11-16. Paul accuses Peter of "not acting in line with the truth of the gospel" (NIV) because he separated himself from the Gentile believers in the presence of the Judaizers. This is an odd passage to read, if we take the more traditional view that what is at stake in the book is merit-seeking. But if we think of this in terms of Peter's ethnic identification through observance of the Torah code, then suddenly I think a new picture begins to emerge. Paul isn't upset because Peter is trying to gain favor with God - he is enraged by Peter's participation in a system that equates belonging to God's people with belonging to the right ethnic group.

The implications of this for how we understand the book are huge, absolutely huge. Paul will go on to lay out an argument that demolishes the pretention that God's favor still rests on one particular nationality, an argument that culminates in what I think is perhaps the pivotal statement of the book - in Christ, there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female. Belonging to God's people relativizes all other social distinctions.

Is this a political text? I think so, without a doubt. Next - so what exactly does it mean to say that social distinctions are relativized in Christ?

Voices

I don't often write poetry because, frankly, I'm not that good at it, but this one turned out pretty well, so I thought I'd share. I'm not certain it's finished yet - I may still tinker with it some more, so feel free to offer any comments or suggestions.

Voices

Walk tall, we hear, with head held high...
The ancient whisper chants the spell
That doomed before us many brothers,
Sisters, others who, unable to tell
The malice buried in the words
Thought fair of form, behind them fell.

The whisper sounds of kindred voice
And speaks to us of what is wise,
Yet underneath its silvered tones
A creeping darkness spreads the lies
That wrought the death of Eden fair
And looks on us with hungry eyes.

Though now we may not bend an ear
Nor acquiesce to its demands,
Tomorrow waits, still haunted by
The spirits of our greedy hands...
But is this path our doom to walk,
To fill our days with endless grasping?
Better far to softly tread,
And burden not the world in passing.

Dynamics of Power

One more thought on this before I talk about Galatians - we as followers of Christ must seriously rethink our approaches to authority and power. I touched on this yesterday, but I think it bears more careful consideration than my quick summary. I think this is significant for several reasons. First, power is the dynamic that sets political relationships and structures apart from other kinds of relationality. When I have friends over for an evening of grill and brew, it's not necessarily a political action - there is no overt mechanic of power and authority (unless you have really strange friendships). But bring those same friends into my home for a house church gathering, and the relationality transforms into something political. (In what way this becomes political we'll discuss shortly - that's not necessarily a bad transition.) Second, I would argue that power dynamics are precisely what Jesus subverted in his political sphere. In other words, the gospel challenges us politically precisely because of Jesus' approach to power and authority. Not coincidentally, I think this is precisely where Christian political activism (in the more traditional sense) so often goes wrong, and why I suspect that, not only do we miss the gospel in our approach to government, but we actually do violence to it - especially those of us who follow Christ in the context of first world democracies.

I suppose again that a definition is in order. I've proposed that political relationality involves dynamics of power - nice move, Webster, but what does it mean? By power, I'm specifically referring to dynamics of influence or control. My current line of thought - and I'll be the first to admit this is in no way well-developed - is that power in and of itself is amoral. In other words, there is nothing particularly right or wrong about the act of exercising influence or control; it's simply a part of human relationships. It happens in families, in businesses, in little leagues and coffee shops, in Wissahickon and Washington. What makes an exercise of power a moral act are the means, the ends, and the motives - and it's precisely these elements where Jesus serves as both example and challenge for those of us who would follow in his Way.

I could probably write a book on this, so I'll try my best to be concise here. My proposal for understanding the nature of Jesus as a political figure is to examine the way in which he not only exercised power, but subverted and transcended it. What I mean is this - in the gospels, Jesus never exercises control through domination or subversion of the other. The closest we see to something like this is the cleansing of the temple narrative, and I think it's a stretch to argue that domination is what's in play in that instance. But clearly, in example after example, Jesus subverts power through submission and service. He transforms dynamics rooted in domination to ones birthed in love. Not only that, but he holds out his example for all who would be greatest in his kingdom - it's truly an inversion of worldly power structures, creating a radically different community built around radically different dynamics.

This dynamic is all through Jesus' teachings, especially in the Sermon on the Mount. Love for the enemy, care for the needy - submission and service are throughout, sometimes in truly remarkable terms. Many of us may be aware of the context for the statement about "going the extra mile". Roman soldiers of the day had the power to conscript a person to carry their belongings for a maximum distance of one mile. Jesus turns this power dynamic on its head by instructing his followers to not only submit to the Roman soldier, but to do twice what was required - love for the enemy indeed, to place the statement into its historical context. But I think something revolutionary happens in this act of submission. It's not passive by any means - it's subversive. Jesus takes an act of domination and transcends it through willing submission, in effect claiming its power as his own and transforming it into a display of love and service for an enemy. The cross is then the ultimate example, where Jesus' act of radical submission transcends the domination of Rome and results in Christ's enthronement as Lord. But again, the power of Lordship that he wields is love and service - not domination.

I think this example of Jesus' use of power should serve to fuel our own approach to power and authority. What does this look like for the Christian? If you haven't seen it yet, check out a great post over at Today at the Mission on the Christian Bill of Rights for starters. As followers of Christ, we no longer have the option of wielding power in the ways of the world - we are called to something greater by virtue of being lesser.

Politics of a Different Kind

I'm going to play around with this thought of politics for a bit. My current course deals with the book of Galatians, and we've been having a fun row discussion about what exactly the thrust of the book is and what Paul is arguing against. I raised the whole question of gospel and what implications are carried by understanding the gospel in a political sense, meaning that to proclaim the gospel is to proclaim Jesus as Lord. The more I think about it, the more I believe that this framing of the gospel cracks Galatians wide open as a radical political text - but that's going to be my next post. For now, I think I want to lay out what it is I mean when I speak of the gospel, Jesus, or Paul as political. It's not in the normal sense of the word, at least as it's used commonly in American English (one of my favorite oxymorons).

Typically when we think of politics, we think of governments, of parties, of voting and legislation and such - at least those of us whose contexts are first world democracies. Persons from other cultural contexts might think in various other frames of reference, some of which might also carry over into particular groups within democratic societies, namely those of oppression, of violence, of corruption or possibly even revolution. (I've heard it said, and I don't recall where, that democracies are governments that simply plan their revolutions. In America, we have the potential to overthrow our government every two, four, or six years, or at least we would if the candidates weren't always cut from the same cloth, no matter the label. But I digress.) My point is that the active frame of reference for the term "politics" is typically government - but that's not the sense in which I'm using the term, at least not broadly, although government is certainly subsumed in my larger reference.

There are two specific definitions identified at dictionary.com that I think are helpful for describing the terms in which I'm attempting to position the gospel (references available at the site). Politics can be thought of as the often internally conflicting interrelationships among people in a society or similarly as social relations involving authority or power. It should become immediately evident what I'm getting at by referring to the gospel as significantly, perhaps even fundamentally, political. It's my contention that the intent of Jesus as demonstrated repeatedly in the gospel was not only to face death on the cross - although his death and resurrection certainly provide the central event around which we can interpret the rest of his life and ministry. But my point is that the life and ministry of Jesus were not incidental to his purposes, that he wasn't simply biding time until the cross. I think that it's fairly self-evident by even the most cursory readings of the gospels that Jesus intended to create a new community, a new people, marked by a new approach to being people in community and characterized by a radical, subversive approach to authority and power. If this contention is true, and I am fairly confident in it, then what we must recognize is that the gospel calls us, as participants in and members of that very community, to follow in the footsteps of Christ in our relationships, in our approach to authority and power, and in our understandings of citizenship and politics in the more traditional sense.

A Small Request

I've been somewhat absent the past few days. I've wanted to write, but I can't find any words - I'm exhausted by the seemingly endless barrage of mundane stresses that have been coming my way. Honestly, I'm tired of writing about this stuff, because I don't want to use this site as a venting post for all of my frustrations. But this latest issue has me somewhat rattled, and I'd like to ask for a small bit of prayer, if you would be so kind.

Here is the crux of the issue: not only did I miss my class last Thursday because of the problem with my Jeep, like a moron I completely missed class again on Saturday. No reason other than I thought it was actually a week later. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal - but in an accelerated program with six sessions per course, I've just missed one third of the class. I'm suddenly in serious jeopardy of failing my class for no other reason than I forgot to go. I've had to submit a request to the academic office to allow me to continue in the class without failing, and my instructor has been difficult to read - I don't know, even if I'm allowed to continue in the course, what he's going to do with my grade.

I hate to put this out here like this, but I feel that I need to offer some explanation for why I've been lax on responding to all of your excellent comments in my previous post as well as being unable to summon the mental energies required to generate anything interesting to write. The stress has been brutal, especially in light of my less than stellar luck of late. So I would ask that, if you would be so kind, please remember me as you pray - I need the academic committee and my prof to show grace in this situation so that I can graduate as scheduled.

UPDATE: The variance committee responded MUCH sooner than anticipated - I was initially told they wouldn't meet until next week. But it's been approved, so now I just have to chat with the prof to find out where my grade stands. Thanks for your prayers, and hopefully I can get back to thinking and writing creatively...

UPDATE2: Had a really nice chat with the prof tonight - didn't discuss the grade, but he was very cordial and understanding. We also threw around some thoughts on the gospel, Galatians, and NT Wright - very nice fellow. Thanks again to everyone for thoughts and prayers during a stressful time.

Jesus, Gospel, and Politics

I read an interesting article in USA Today this week about the changing face of evangelical politics (thanks to Stephen for the link). It's a fascinating read, especially in the insanity that passes for American politics these days. On the upside, I think it's good to hear from evangelicals that are able to see beyond the platform of one party, and the causes mentioned in the article are some excellent ones that should be in most cases no-brainers for those who would consider themselves followers of Christ. On the other hand, this drops into my lap in the middle of some deep reflection on the relationship between gospel and government, church and state, Democrats, Republicans, and Jesus - reflections that have left me somewhat unsettled. So I throw out my nascent thoughts for some comment and critique, in hopes that I will hear some wisdom that will settle my mind and soul.

First, let me just say that if you can read John Howard Yoder's The Politics of Jesus and not find yourself somewhat unsettled, then you're either a far better follower of Jesus than I or you didn't read it very carefully. I read this book a few months ago, and I sort of feel like my mental software's been invaded by a virus that's slowly but surely rewiring my neurons. Add to that a lot of recent reading of N.T. Wright and his take on the gospel (great articles here and here for a start), and a picture is starting to emerge that is entirely unexpected, and truth be told, somewhat disturbing, at least in terms of implications.

What both of these authors propose is a Jesus who was surprisingly political and a gospel that was proclaimed specifically as a challenge to the ruling powers of the day. On some level, it makes perfect sense in a profoundly simple sort of way. If you agree with Wright's proposal on the substance of the gospel, and I've read enough by now to say that I'm leaning strongly in that direction, then I think it has to reshape the common understanding of both content of and response to its message. Wright's proposal is that the primary content of the gospel is simply that Jesus is Lord. All the other stuff that usually gets mixed up in the package (justification, grace, faith, etc.), while immensely important, are not the content of the gospel per se, in his understanding. This should strike an immediate chord with what Jesus' primary message seemed to be - the Kingdom of God has come. This simple proposal solves all sorts of problems for me, not least of which is what can seem at times like a rather odd relationship between the gospels and the rest of the New Testament, but I'll resist the urge to chase that bunny.

So what about that makes the gospel political? It's actually quite simple, and all the more profound for being so - if Jesus is Lord, then Caesar is not. Even the word gospel suggests this connection, a borrowed word from the political realm that was used, not of the sort of good news like the brownies are ready to eat, but rather specifically of good news such as the birth of a king or of victory in battle. The gospel represents, then, not simply a message of forgiveness of sins, although it is certainly not less than that. It represents a public challenge to the ruling powers and the formation of an alternate community ordered around a different authority.

So my questions in conjunction with this line of thought - and I'll be the first to admit it's not very well developed, and my summary here is woefully inadequate - are simply these: are we overly concerned with political activism, so much so that we abdicate our responsibility of crafting an alternate community practicing alternate politics? What does it mean to be both a good citizen and a follower of Christ, and is it even possible to be both at the same time? Do we look too quickly to government to solve our problems, whether through legislation or funding or, yes, even force and violence? And, perhaps the most difficult, are we simply too close to the system to realize how much we are indebted to it?

I don't have answers to these at this point - I'm throwing these out for consideration and discussion. Thoughts anyone?

When It Rains...

I've spent most of the week trying to recover files from my old laptop. It's down to about five minutes now before there's an audible zzzzzt from the board and the thing shuts down. It feels like a bad game show, frantically scrambling to locate important files before the buzzer goes off. At least I have the five minutes - I probably would have had to be medicated if I'd have lost the files. Moral of the story - back up your stuff.

Yesterday I headed to Starbucks for lunch to catch up on some homework. When I got back in the car to come back to the office, I turned the key and...nothing. The starter would crank, but the engine wouldn't catch. I ended up getting it towed; apparently an oxygen sensor shorted out and blew the fuse to the computer. (I don't really know what that means, but my mechanic made it sound important.) Several hundred bucks later, I'm with vehicle again. Unfortunately, I missed both my class and the Emergent cohort meeting last night. On the upside, I got a surprise afternoon off, even if I did spend it waiting for a tow.

I was going to say I think I'm running out of things to break, but I don't want to test the hypothesis.

The Funniest Thing I've Ever Seen....

...is here.

Philly Emergent Cohort

Anyone with info on the upcoming Philly Emergent cohort gathering, would you be so kind as to leave a comment with the info or email me? I know some of you are out there... I was in the middle of reading the email (literally) when half a glass of water spilled onto my laptop. I will confess that, in my panic, my charismatic background raised its long-forgotten head, and I gave serious consideration to anointing it with oil and praying for resurrection. Ah, well, I'm still hoping that it will dry out and turn on tomorrow. At any rate, if it doesn't, I can't get to my email for date/time/location etc.

On the upside, I think it's great that a cohort is finally starting in Philly! Kudos to whoever pulled it together - I hope this takes off.

An Interview Meme

I've never done one of these before, but it sounded like fun. Here's the format:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your weblog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Scott picked five questions for me to answer, which I'll do here. Leave a comment in turn if you're interested in being interviewed. Now, on to the questions:

How do you live in the Story of God, the Story in which you find yourself? ; )
The short answer is that I stumble around a lot trying to figure out the plot. The longer answer starts when I realize that the reason I stumble around is that I forget that I'm not the plot. Instead, I've been invited into this wonderful adventure that's happening all around me while too often I remain completely unaware.

I use the word "subversive" a lot. Subversive carries a sense of a thing with a purpose other than its presumed purpose. There's a sense of secrecy and surprise, of unexpectedness and danger that comes with the word, and I think that's entirely appropriate for much of what we think of as spirituality. Sabbath, for example, is subversive. On the surface it's about rest. But it's not really at all about rest, or maybe only somewhat about rest, but mostly it's about undercutting the dominant assumptions of culture that cry out, "Consume! Produce! Consume! Produce!" That's not, I think, a 21st century first world thing either - all you have to do is enter into the story of the Exodus to see that the concern for manna overrode the trust required of Sabbath. Economics does not have the final word. Government does not have the final word either - that's the message of Revelation. Death does not have the final word - that's the message of the Gospels, probably the best message of all.

To live in the story means to align ourselves to the narrative. We find ourselves within the story, but not in the sense of moralizations: "Be like David! Slay your giant!" It means that we find ourselves in the position of Israel facing an oppressor with a final word - in this case, a return to captivity and oppression - and learning that there is another Word that speaks louder, longer, and more finally. We see God within history continuing to redeem His people and find hope and the audacity to imagine (Romans 15:4). We practice what I think of as little resistances, ways of avoiding acceptance of dominant paradigms. For me, I think of things like taking time for lunch, turning off the radio and driving in silence, buying from local businesses instead of multinational corporations, and driving a vehicle from the mid-nineties as little resistances. They're ways I reinforce to myself that the script presented by culture is a part of the wrong plot, so to speak. I don't frame these kinds of things as disciplines, because frankly they're not always possible - but they are in the back of my mind when I work and shop and eat and play. They set the stage for what I consider large resistances. These are more overt practices, such as supporting a needy child financially, giving regularly to my church community, choosing a lower-paying job in order to have time for family and Kingdom, or living at peace with others and practicing forgiveness and reconciliation. But all of these things start with imagination, and imagination starts with story, and the story in which we find ourselves is the redemptive tale told by a Redeeming God who is both narrator and hero.

If you could be any character from literature, who would it be and why?
No doubt - Faramir from Lord of the Rings. If you've seen the movies but not read the books, you don't get the sense of true nobility that Tolkien gives to Faramir. In the book, Faramir took a great risk to trust Frodo. He took another great risk to aid him and let the Ring pass into the land of Mordor. But he did so knowing that what seemed to be the wise course of action was in fact the most foolish - to claim the Ring and use it. He let power pass through his grip in order to serve another. He is an amazing example of Tolkien's contrast between wisdom and power - and in the story he's proven wise indeed.

What do you hope to do with your MDiv from Biblical?
At one time, I knew the answer to that question. So much has happened in the past five years that I don't really know anymore - I just know that I'm supposed to be where I am. I think I want to plant a church in the Philadelphia area that reflects some of what's taking place in the emerging church, because there aren't many faith communities that I'm aware of that are asking those kinds of questions. But I hold that dream loosely - what I really hope is that I find a bit of clarity before graduation. ;) Long-term, I want to write books, get my doctorate, and teach on the university or seminary level, as well as serve in vocational ministry of some kind. So basically, I want to be Eugene Peterson. ;)

When did you know you wanted to marry your wife and how did you ask her to marry you?
I met Joy the first week of my sophomore year in college; she was an incoming freshman. The first time I met her I thought she was rather stuck up - I found out later that she was actually somewhat shy. We shared a music theory class and it wasn't long before we started dating. In fact, on our first date, we went out for Chinese food and met my roommate and his date for a movie. My mistake was in letting him pick the movie. It was a Bruce Willis flick about cop hunting for a stalker as I recall - it freaked her out so badly that she was hyperventilating on the way out of the theater. I think I knew I wanted to marry her when she said she'd go out with me again. ;)

The next summer I went to visit her in New York. She grew up in Rye, which is between White Plains and Greenwich, CT, just north of NYC. There's a place near the beach that looks out over Long Island Sound where you can see the New York skyline - I surprised her there with the ring. That was eleven years ago this August, and the rest as they say is history. I was twenty years old when we got married; she was nineteen. We were insane - but somehow it's worked out, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

What is your favorite food memory and why?
I thought about this one for a while, and then realized that it should have been absurdly easy to answer. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, where there are still people who live close to the land, with dirt under their fingernails and the seasons in their souls. My grandfather was one of those people. He worked at a steel mill for a large part of his life, but he was a farmer more than anything, and that's the way I'll always remember him. He'd spend hours upon hours every day out in the "patch", as he called it. Many people have a garden. My grandfather had about half an acre of produce that he'd work all summer long - tomatoes, peppers, row upon row of sweet corn, melons so large they looked like scientific experiments. You can't get produce like that in suburbia. We'd pull a dozen ears from the cornstalks and, before the silk could start to wilt, they'd be on the stove. When you'd bite into them, the kernels would burst with sugary juice. I'd eat watermelon so fresh the juice would run down my chin and stain my shirt - when you're eight, you have a sense of priority about such things. Shirts can be washed - the watermelon is what matters! Woven through it all, though, is a sense of history and family. Every fall when the potatoes were ready we'd all spend a few weekends walking through the rows of freshly turned soil pulling potatoes out of the ground. I hated it at the time, of course, but there are memories there I wouldn't trade for anything. Even now, that sense of connection comes back anytime I experience that smell of earth and soil.

Thanks Scott - good questions!

Restless

One thing that I always try to do at work is take a lunch break. No doubt some of you are now waiting for me to finish the sentence, but in fact, in my organization's culture, taking a lunch is at times the mark of distinction between one who has nearly reached the apex of his or her climb up the organizational ladder and one who has some distance left. My lunch break is in some sense a mini-Sabbath, a little resistance if you will, a way of structuring my day so that I remember that I am more than a project lead. It keeps me human; it keeps me sane.

My normal practice is to head to the local Starbucks. It's rather pathetic, really - I've been ordering the same thing several times a week for several years. Venti chai, no water, extra chai. Lunch of champions. During the summer, I'll occasionally head elsewhere; there are a few local parks and at least one Presbyterian church in the area that offer out-of-the-way parking and such. What I am really after is not so much food or a hot beverage but rather solitude. The reason that I keep returning to the Paoli Starbucks is that, if you head towards the back of the shop, past the restrooms and up a small staircase, there is another secluded seating area that is often unoccupied. There are three rather comfortable armchairs and a couch, with ample table space besides. This is where I sit and read, reflect and think and occasionally pray.

I've been feeling somewhat restless lately. I'm not sure how to describe it otherwise - I have this sense of growing unease about my current situation that is difficult to put into words. I feel as though I am mentally pacing, waiting anxiously for some news that I'm not quite sure I can identify except to say that I'll know it when I hear it. I feel like I did during childhood when friends were coming to my house but were running a bit late - I'm somewhat jumpy and nervous, and I keep checking the windows to see if their car has turned the corner.

Last week found me sitting alone in that back room at Starbucks, reflecting on this growing restlessness and wondering if I'm not getting enough sleep or if there's something else going on. What happened next was rather odd, enough so that I'm having difficulty ignoring or dismissing it. Into the mix of thoughts and emotions and history and dreams that was running through my head at the time, I quite distinctly remember two words dropping out of nowhere, as though spoken by Someone Else: Be Ready. I've tried to shake the feeling, but it hasn't resolved - in some sense, I feel more restless now than ever.

Be ready? What does THAT mean?!?!

A Spirituality of Briar

I really wanted to write something on the Emergent response to critics, which I thought was quite well done, but in truth I just spent a bit of time reading through some of the responses to the response and now I'm just tired. (If you haven't read it and care to do so, head to the emergent-us blog. It's well worth a read, if you're interested in the emerging church.) So more on that tomorrow. Instead, I'm going to pick up something I mentioned in an earlier post and talk about pipes for just a minute. Here's a quick disclaimer - I'm not really interested in talking about the dangers of tobacco, or second-hand smoke, or healthy living. Just putting that on the table. If you're interested in that sort of thing, there are many places to discuss it. I'm not trying to be rude; in fact, I've never said this about a post before, and it makes me rather uncomfortable to do so, but there can be particularly strong opinions on this topic, so I'm just setting some boundaries up front for my own sanity. My apologies for the string of independent clauses, but there it is.

I'm not really what you'd call a "smoker" in the true sense of the word. I enjoy a good pipe about once a month or so. It pops in and out of my writing because the two seem to go together, but in truth it's somewhat of a rare indulgence. To me, it's sort of like fine wine - I consider good wine to be privilege, and I keep it as such by enjoying it only occasionally. It's an avoidance of the contempt of the familiar and all that.

Two things come to mind when I pick up my pipe: conversation and contemplation. Some of my closest friends also enjoy pipes, so our occasional gatherings typically include breaking out the briar. On the other hand, I also find a pipe to be the perfect accompaniment to reflection, contemplation, and yes, even prayer.

Here is the one thing you must know about pipes in order to understand what I mean: it is impossible, or at least incredibly difficult, to smoke a pipe quickly. You can do it, but it ruins the smoke and possibly the pipe as the tobacco will burn too hot and char the briar. There is a method to pipe smoking that is in some sense ritual. One doesn't simply light up. First, the proper tobacco must be selected - this alone can be a dizzying matter, because the range is simply staggering. (Myself, I'm partial to McClelland's Blackwoods Flake or St. James Woods, if you were wondering.) Then the pipe must be packed properly and lit carefully. This is critical to a quality smoke - too loose and the pipe will burn hot, too dense and it will not burn at all. As to the smoke itself, well, one does not "puff" a pipe. A pipe is smoked slowly and carefully, maintaining an even burn and allowing the flavors to develop. It's more like sipping than gulping. When done properly, the reward is (assuming a quality tobacco and pipe) a complex, flavorful smoke that puts the finest cigar to shame (imho).

I think the reason that I gravitate towards pipes is perhaps the same reason that they've fallen out of favor. As I said before, one does not simply light up. Smoking a pipe means to slow down, to take care, to pause. This is why I favor it when I am in need of contemplation. Lighting my pipe is a sort of centering process for me, an opportunity to deliberately slow my pace. Smoking it is a sort of metronome, so to speak. It is something that keeps my mind from racing ahead of itself, allowing me to pause to listen and reflect. Some of my best writing comes out of these times, as well as my best prayer.

The Slacker Returns

Well, ok, slacker is a strong word - I've been extraordinarily busy this week. In fact, I'm sabotaging a paper that's due tomorrow in order to post a few thoughts at the moment, but I just can't work anymore tonight. Thankfully, a key project at work elevated successfully on Saturday, so after half a day in the office on the weekend I can breathe a bit easier over the next few weeks. Once I get my paper done, I'll have three whole days until my next class starts - I'm thinking Disneyworld? I guess you can't write about Sabbath and not be punished... At any rate, I'm looking forward to some more regular posting this week, and to more timely responses to comments and emails.