Oats 'n' Beans

MY FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE was at a Baptist university in Oklahoma. I won’t mention the name of it because my son teaches there now, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass him or the school. As a PK (preacher’s kid), I might have had a bag or two of wild oats to sew, and the freedom of being away at college seemed to be fallow ground. Thankfully though, my choices didn’t result in excommunication, disownment, shunning, or arrest.

Well, as it turns out, there are appartently a few oats left in my bag. I sowed a few this morning.

As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up in a Southern Baptist tradition. And while at times it seemed that fun in any form was frowned upon, I value those times. If the old axiom, “Boys will be boys,” is true, then it is also true that Baptist Boys will be too.

One of my first nights at the Baptist university, I heard a student come in to the dorm late one night singing at the top of his lungs, “I was sinking deep in sin. Wheeeee!” It dawned on me: you get a bunch of preacher’s kids, deacon’s kids, and missionary’s kids together, you might just have a bumper wild oat crop.

While the “sins” of my 60s are less daring and thrilling than those in the 60s, they are there nonetheless. Thankfully they are still forgiven—at least by God; hopefully also by those who have been hurt by my selfishness.

So today’s oats were sewn over a cup of coffee. Starbucks Coffee. I know, I know. Here’s the deal though: I will not let paranoid, fundamentalists shame me for drinking the only adult beverage I can enjoy guilt free.

Coffee is too important to American Christianity to slow its flow in any way. You want to see a church split and a pastor fired, try removing the coffee pot from the fellowship hall. You know that glimpse we get in the Bible of Jesus at the wedding feast? The only thing that would make Baptists love that story more is if Jesus had turned the water into a hot, never-ending urn of Folger’s coffee.

So, call me a rebel if you must, but I will dring deep from my dark roast Starbucks. I will drink it from a white cup or I will dring it from a red cup. I will drink it black and I will drink it up. I will not feel guilt, I will not feel shame, I will not boycot the Starbucks name. I totally agree it cost to much, but I don’t spend much on treats and such. So here’s to you my christian friend. Let’s raise our red cups, amen? Amen!

Question Like A Kid

CURIOUS GEORGE is nearly 80 years old. How has this storyline endured? I’m curious.

It’s like that grocery store tabloid, National Enquirer says, “Enquiring minds want to know.”

Why “enquire” instead of “inquire”? Curious, huh?

Do you think inquiry is frowned upon? Maybe life would have been less complicated if I had heeded the warning that “curiousity killed the cat”. Maybe the authorities that said, “Don’t question authority,” were wise. Maybe I should have been one of those who accepts rules, regulations, conventional wisdom, dogma as matters of fact; without questioning.

I love that the first sentence a child learns is “Why?!”

THE INQUISITIVE HARPER

Could it be that there’s a better answer than, “Because I said so. That’s WHY.”

Friday night, we were at Cracker Barrel® with our Grand-Girls. It was our first time there since Nora, the youngest, at 16 months began running at a pace best described as a blur, with hands just as fast. Karlee, the oldest at 6, grabbed my hand as we were walking in, and asked in a voice so her parents couldn’t hear, “Pops, could we maybe do a little shopping after we eat?” Of course we can. That’s Cracker Barrel’s business model!

During the meal, as Karlee was slathering apple butter on her biscut, she said, “Pops turn around and look at all the stuff on that wall.” If you never been to Cracker Barrel, they have excellent apple butter and a LOT of stuff on their walls. “See that NO SMOKIN’ sign,” she asked. (She’s reading really well these days.) I confirmed that I did see it. Then she asked a question that could be important for Cracker Barrel designers, “Do you think they’re serious about that, or is it just part of the decoration?”

Why did she ask that? It’s not like she was thinking about lighting up. I’m no psycologist, but it seems like maybe, it could be, that for kids, there’s a beautiful curiousity for the sake of understanding, for knowledge, and maybe for curiousity in itself.

For many, many years, I sought to have a part in the spiritual development of some teenagers. To the casual observer it may have looked like I was just playing volleyball, snow skiing, and eating enough pizza to bring on coronary disease. I listened for hours to the woes of early adolescent drama, and had more fun than anyone deserved to have.

What I hope I did NOT do was squelch their inquisitiveness about spiritual things, just giving pat answers. I hope I never gave them the impression that to have questions means you don’t have faith. In fact, I hope I helped them understand that as your faith grows, so does the importance of asking more questions, deeper questions.

I’m going to say this outloud, here in virtual ink. I’ve said it before and gotten in trouble for it, probably because I don’t explain it well, or whomever I’m trying to explain it to doesn’t have ears to hear. When it comes to faith, to a spiritual quest, don’t ever stop asking questions. But, know this: sometimes you won’t find an answer. It’s not necessarily because there isn’t an answer, it’s just that us humans don’t have the ability to fully understand.

Take PEACE for example. It is worthy to inquire about what peace is and how we find it, and while we can experience a degree of it, and sometimes in sufficient quantity, we will never know it fully, because this we know for sure, the peace of God, transcends all understanding. (Philippians 4:7)

I’m not saying there is not absolute Truth. I am saying we can not know it fully; here. We get glimpses of it, and there is always more to learn. When we reduce it all to black and white, inquiry stops. And, when we want to ask questions, we’re told to “accept by faith.” It seems to me that nothing suffocates the journey of faith quite like that attitude: “Don’t question, accept by faith.”

I have a dear friend who is on a quest. She is asking very hard questions which has led me to ask questions, which has awakened something in me, and I am grateful. Perhaps I can tell you more about this in another post.

“All human beings by nature desire to know.”

— Aristotle

CHECK OUT this tune by Jars of Clay. Good music to ask questions by.

Read It Again

I'VE TRIED BUT I JUST CAN'T DO IT; NOT YET ANYWAY. I have a friend who challenged me to choose six books. Here’s how the challenge went down: If you had to choose six books to be the only books you would have on your shelf to read from now on, what would they be?

“Comme l’on serait savant si l’on connaissait bien seulement cinq ou sìx livres.”

— Flaubert

Translated: “What a scholar one might be if one knew well only some half a dozen books.”

Obviously the Bible would be first. Not because I’m holy or anything, but because it has everything in one book: mystery, intrigue, poetry, philosophy, love story, history, science, etc.

“You can’t choose the Bible. In fact, let’s narrow it down to novels, literary fiction.”

Even as a kid I loved to read and be read to. When I think about this challenge of picking just six books, I think, “Why?” But kids prove that stories can be read again and again and again and again. In fact, I can hear my Grand-Girls now: “Read it again, Pops.” 

karlee and pops

Growing up, once I began reading beyond picture books, my list-of-six would have included: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Call of the Wild, Treasure Island and City High Five.

But then, the Call of the Cool came in early adolescence. And you couldn’t be caught reading or admitting you really liked reading. You would be pummelled with your copy of Red Badge Of Courage. And then there were those books that teachers insisted we read…

“Nothing ruins a book faster than a teacher who insists it is important.”

— Alex Miller Jr.

Some teachers I trusted. Some teachers would make you read a certain book (by assignment and threat). Some teachers would make you want to read a certain book (by there obvious love for the story).

Why is it important to have six books (or whatever number) that you could and will read again and again? Because one of the things that makes a great story a great story is that you can hear it over again, and it is fresh and compelling each time. And then there’s this, from The New York Review of Books:

The ideal here, it seems, is total knowledge of the book, total and simultaneous awareness of all its contents, total recall. Knowledge, wisdom even, lies in depth, not extension. The book, at once complex and endlessly available for revisits, allows the mind to achieve an act of prodigious control. Rather than submitting ourselves to a stream of information, in thrall to each precarious moment of a single reading, we can gradually come to possess, indeed to memorize, the work outside time.

As I said at the start, I can’t quite whittle the list to six; yet. But I do have it to eight. Oh, as you read my list, don’t judge me. I’m not in seventh grade anymore, your judgement doesn’t matter to me, but I would love to hear your opinions and your list. I’ve shared my emerging list with a few people. Some of have questioned whether some of these qualify as “classics”. That’s not one of the criteria. Remember, this is about books you could read again and again.

Specifically, I’ve been critized for having Catcher in the Rye on my list. It is, in fact, a book I read about once a year, and have for years. One said: “Jane Eyre! Isn’t that a chick book?” I hit him over the head with my copy. And if you’re familiar with Jane Eyre you know it (the book, not Jane herself) is large and packs a wallop.

So, [drum roll] here’s the list, not necessarily in any order:

• To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
• Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
• Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
• For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
• East of Eden by John Steinbeck
• Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry
• Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
• The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

What's on your list?

Going Up or Down?

IN ONE OF THE BUILDINGS where I work there is an elevator. The building has two floors. For some reason the control panel on the inside of the elevator has a button that says “1” and a button that says “2”. It really bothers me. It is a choice that promises options, but there is only one way you can go, up or down, depending on what floor you are on. Why not just have one button that says, “Go”!

I feel suddenly old. This feeling (reality) was brought on by an event that has made age more apparent to me than any passing birthday ever has. I signed up for Medicare.

I didn’t want to do it. I plan to work for several more years and have health coverage at work, but Big Brother sent me an ominous warning that if I didn’t sign up NOW, I “c(w)ould” be penalized with higher premiums for the rest of my days here on earth.

There was a questionnaire. Best I can remember the questions went something like this. I’m paraphrasing because I don’t actually remember the questions. I was under a dark and ominous cloud as I was reading it. The answers seemed to be like the buttons on our elevator—promising options but really only having one choice.

___YES: You freely admit to your government that you are elderly?
___YES: You understand that you have no choice but to nuzzle up to the teet of Uncle Sam’s big ol’ sow (mother pig)?
___YES: Aren’t you glad now you paid all those taxes?
___YES: You do realize and acknowledge that the actual dollars you and your employers have coughed up over the years are actually vapor, your government may or may not have saved your money on your behalf?
___YES: You understand that the Republicans could kill the fatted sow (mother pig) with the next election if the Democrats don’t drain her dry first.

Maybe I’m sounding a little bitter and cynical. Get over it. I’m old. It’s my right. Satire is fun, isn’t it? Or is it (satire)?