Deus Semper Minor; The Small Way

Recently, and for the first time, I heard a friend speak the Latin words Deus semper minor. The literal translation of this is "God always smaller". I have been thinking about this. A lot.

Big American God
This little phrase seems to me to be disconnected with what we Americans like to hear. I mean, after all, we are Americans, dammit. We won the West, built the Transcontinental Railroad, conquered polio, won World War II, and put a man on the moon. Our God is not smaller, He is Bigger, and don't you forget it!

And today, we have lots of attractive televangelists telling us things like "It's Your Time" and "Become a Better You" and "Your Best Life Now". That God is not small. He is powerful. And Big. And friendly, and has good hair, no doubt. He even wants us to get rich, and He thinks poverty is for loosers.

A small God? We think not! We like him Big, and Tough, and Vindictive for our side.

Little Real God
But just look around at real life. Seems that quite often, God is actually, well, small.

Small in His seeming inability to stop poverty, unless we help Him. Small in His ability to heal all the sick, unless we fight like hell for years to find the cure. What about My Best Life Now, where is Big American God? What about that baby born with the genetic defect that will take his life before he is even three months old? Is this a little God? What about broken relationships, where is Big God in this?

But maybe the problem with God's apparent size is not really about size at all. We have distorted our expectations of both God's size, but also of what He is choosing to do in our world, and what He might want to do within, well, ......us.

Perhaps God's way is small. Small in the love we offer a friend, who is lonely, or sick, or hurting. Small, in sitting still and quietly listening to a friend share their hurt and frustration at how life does not seem fair. Small, in the form of money spent to feed others, rather than make ourselves feel comforted. Small, as we love those around us who seem to be poor in spirit. Small in the form of a hand held at a bedside in the final moments of life.

Maybe, after all, Deus Semper Minor. What do you think?

Lord Save Me From Myself

Turn this up....the sound is not so good, but the song is amazing:



My mind is dull and jaded
From these years of buy and sell
My eyes have seen the glory
Of this hollow post-modern shell

And sex is a grand production
But I'm bored with that as well
Ah, Lord save me from myself

Electric sun keep shining
Ripen daughters of the chrome
This world is where I breathe
Let it never be called home

The vultures make the money
Is where our bodies fell
Ah, Lord save me from myself.

The vultures make the money
I'm bored with that as well

Wow. Amen.

2010 Grammy Awards - No Idea What I'm Talking About

Tonight, we are pausing life at our house to watch, via slight DVR delay, the Grammy Awards. And so, in the interest of bringing my 8 readers (yes, I know, I exaggerate) the most informed coverage of the music universe, I Steve Norris, shall be your personal reviewer of the festivities.

After thorough research, it has been determined that there are only about 14 other people on the planet with less musical knowledge than myself. So, who better qualified to bring you the most pithy and astute observations of the hip and cool Grammy scene. Buckle your musical seat belts, people. Off we go.....

Opening Number - Lady Gaga. Those shoes look dangerous. Nice Orwelian backdrop. Now its Elton and Lady. They both look like they did some serious chimney sweeping. That is one serious earring that Elton is wearing. Nice "hands" on the pianos; they paid some pathetic set designer serious coin for that; I want THAT dudes job. Clearly, Elton definately cannot see out of those glasses. He needs Stevie Wonder's escort off stage.

Beyonce wins song of the year. Seems like a song about men needing to make commitments in relationships. This is good.

Green Day - 21 guns. Eh. Seems big hair (and black) is important here.

Best Country Album. I can feel the Mid west starting to pay attention, and come in from making Rice Krispy Treats in the kitchen. Taylor Swift wins. My daughter is happy. Taylor is shocked she won; Ringo is sitting next to Taylor's Mom. Wow. I like Taylor's apparent humility.

Beyonce appears with black Star Wars dudes. This girl has got it going on. Star Wars guys left early in the number. They have nothing to contribute musically, it seems. There is an arrow guitar dude that has chains connecting his legs together. Bad fashion, very 70's.

Pink! I want to be referred to by a color; I choose Mauve. I would have hurled in the trapeze device. Ok...so she somehow got wet. Thats interesting. Next. Carlos Santana liked it.

Best New Artist. Zac Brown Band. They wear bad hats and beanies; and they all taulk funnahy. Never hear of them. I have heard of the Ting Tings.....I love them and will be filing a personal protest.

Its Da Black Eyed Peas, Peeps! Now this is fun music! What is with the Silver Robot Dudes? I love it. Welcome to da Futcha!

Lady Antebellum. Now this is good music. Something to clean your guns by, or perhaps oil your fly fishing reels. They reference being drunk in their music. I like these guys. Big guitar solos.

Record of the Year! Get ready......Kings of Leon. Eh. I always make my daughter change the station when they are on the radio. They said they were drunk, but they wear suits. Bad clothing. Meh. These guys will not uplift the moral complexion of our nation.

Jamie Fox. Boring. T-Pain is my man. He wears his pants way to low. Saw him on the MTV Awards last year and thought he was gonna have a pants malfunction.

Ke$ha. Needs to eat a good meal, and loose the eye makeup. I have to listen to her tunes on the way to school in the morning with my daughter. No thank you very much. From now on, call me $teve.

Taylor Swift. This is good stuff. Very American. Stevie Nicks! I all verkelmpt now. Rihanna was huge in high school for me. Taylor is getting major air time here. I want one of those short banjos.

3D glasses on, people! Its Michael Jackson tribute time. We did not go to Target, we are loosers. Pretty creepy with Michael singing from beyond the grave. Weird having the kids Prince and Paris up there. I am sorry for these kids. Forever. They need to permanently stay OUT of the public eye. Very sad.

Bon Jovi. Eh. Next.

Jay-Z got some rap award. Eh. I am too white to appreciate this.

Andrea Bocelli; singing for the people of Haiti?! What happened? Mary J. Blige. "I will ease your mind...." Wow. Worth sitting through the whole thing for this!

We have caught up to live TV. I am done. Good night peeps.

Frozen Man

What would it be like to come back to life, hundreds of years following your own death?

James Taylor was inspired to write a fictional account of this, after seeing an issue of National Geographic magazine with a portrait photograph of a man who had be uncovered after being frozen in ice for a hundred years. The man had died while on expedition in the 1860's searching for a Northwest passage to the Pacific.

What would this feel like for us?

Jonathan Winters

When I was a kid, Jonathan Winters used to make me laugh so hard, I would cry. He still does.

Really now, how much can you do with just a stick?

Too Long In The Country Club

I Used to Dream...About Who I Would Become

When I was younger, I used to dream about what my life would be like someday.

Someday. When I grew up and married, and had a family. When I lived in a big house in the suburbs. My lovely wife would be busy in another room, cooking perhaps, while I watched the Masters golf tournament in my wood-paneled den. And then maybe, after it was over, I would head out to the country club to hit a bucket of balls. I used to dream about this when I was a boy.

It would be nice there, at that country club. Everyone would know my name, and treat me with deference; perhaps a form of vague reverence, as I would be so well respected in the community, such a successful, well-groomed, nice person. That club would feel so safe, and warm, and homey, and comfortable. It would make all the trouble, pain, and confusion of the outside world seem, well, so far away. Outside those metal gates that opened only to the select; those who knew the right secret combination on the keypad.

My only worry would be my back-swing, my slice, and my handicap. The hurt of reality outside those ivied gates would be muted by the thick carpeting, the hardwood walls, the hush of the lounge, and the security fencing around the perimeter of the course. No trouble here in the clubhouse locker room. And, next to the sinks, all those men's toiletries lined up so neatly - looking like no one ever used them. Order, tradition, respectability, good grooming. So safe, so insular, never changing. Comforting.

What I Have Become Instead
I never joined a country club. Too expensive, and a waste of money, if I just want to feel comfortable and insulated.

But recently, I have been wondering if, subtly and over a very long time, like slow growing vines, I have not become a part of something similar to the country club. Entrenched and insulated, apart from the world. Warm and cozy. Safe, non-threatening. A refuge from reality. An escape.

That something is my church. And really its not the church itself, but more, its me, and the way I approach what my faith means to me. And, as I think of it, that thought is sad. Very sad.

How do we get like this, we "church people"? How do we, in middle age, turn into those things we most disliked about the older generation when we were in our twenties? What has happened?

Maybe its just too much time inside. Inside the country club, with the warm wood tones, and people who make us feel good, valued, important. We form our little committees, and move on with our little agendas. There will be a potluck. Cookies will be served. There is that painting of a smiling Jesus on the wall over there. He always smiles.

But outside those warm church walls, outside the carpeted committee rooms and Sunday school classrooms there is a real world. Its noisy, and in a hurry. It is hurting, and there is seems to be no soothing that pain. It doesn't really care much at all what we church people do. Because much of the time, what we church folk do is irrelevant to that real world. Men sleep on cold and rainy streets, children are born without families that will really love them, couples fight and separate and never come back to each other. Lives are fractured. Sometimes it feels hard to take in a deep breath, out there in that real world. Your chest hurts too much, you can't really take it all in.

And so, we church folk, turn around and head back inside. Inside the Country Club.

'Ring Out, Wild Bells'

By Alfred Tennyson - circa 1850

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

One Solitary Life

When I was a boy, my parents had a record album of a Christmas concert / dinner party that they played every year. The original event was some sort of Christmas charity event in Beverly Hills, recorded during the late 1940s or 1950s. There was some sort of relationship with this event to my extended family, as my Aunt was one of the party organizers. Beyond this, I can't tell you anything about that record.

I was short sighted enough to let it go as part of the estate sale of my parents home, several years ago. Alas, I wish I had that record back now.....

Along with the requisite Christmas Carols and songs, there was a short speech entitled "One Solitary Life", that I used to enjoy listening to. As I sat on the living room couch, 40-plus years ago, I think God used that little piece to begin a conversation with me about who He really was.

To this day, I find this one of the most convincing apologetic pieces I have ever run across. I found a great version of this on YouTube, recited by Bing Crosby. Sorry for the odd roller coaster burst at the beginning of this.....

Happy Boxing Day!

All is Well

Christmas is in just four short days. What happened to the time?!

Today, for the first time, I heard this Christmas Carol. Its perfect for the need in our troubled world.

All is well all is well
Angels and men rejoice
For tonight darkness fell
Into the dawn of love's light

Sing A-le
Sing Alleluia
All is well all is well
Let there be peace on earth
Christ is come go and tell
That He is in the manger

Sing A-le
Sing Alleluia

All is well all is well
Lift up your voices and sing
Born is now Emmanuel
Born is our Lord and Savior
Sing Alleluia
Sing Alleluia
All is well

But, as I listened, I wondered to myself - in the midst of a world brimming with hunger and suffering, war and loneliness, pain and suffering - does it really feel like "All is Well"?

Does it, now really?

And yet, more than 2000 years ago, into a similarly troubled world, a tiny defenseless little baby came. He seemed so much like every other baby. And what about those baffled parent to whom he was born. And those mysterious people who came to visit him soon after his birth.

It's a mystery to me, that birth. And, strangely, it's a mystery to me how, in the midst of all the struggle and pain the world, we might be comforted by the ideas behind this song, and still believe there is hope for our world.

And yet, for countless ages, we have been comforted.

All is Well. Merry Christmas!

Goodbye to Cindy

This one will be a bit long, so be patient with me.

The Lag in Writing
I have not been writing here for over a month. I am not really sure why, but now, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, in the midst of Advent, I have a reason to write, and perhaps the muse to share things here will return. Also, sometimes, its just good to take a break from my relationship with my laptop.

Older Daughter is now home for the Holidays, (this actually started before Thanksgiving) after a quite successful first quarter away at college. She returned Saturday from a road trip to Santa Barbara to pick up high school buds from college (in heavy rain), and is home safe. We are thankful for these graces.

Thanksgiving this year at our home was simple and warm, with a crowd of only seven; good friends and family together. Again, thankfulness is offered for these things. Today, Younger Daughter is in the midst of heavy studying; sophomore year first finals are next week.

Goodbye to a Dear Friend
I just lit the fireplace before I sat down to write, and the warmth of the fire is slowly filling the room. But now, something is quite different in our home. For the past 12 years, we have shared our everyday life with a wonderful, mellow, and very loving friend. Someone who never got mad at any of us; a chocolate Labrador, named Cinderella. Cindy for short.

And tonight, its different here. There is no one laying against the couch by my side, in her usual spot. I miss that rhythmic breathing, often snoring, and Cindy's interest in anyone new who came in the room; that tapping of her tail on the floor.......this is hard.

Cindy came to live with us in 1997, when Kelly was 7, and her sister was just 4. She was just weened as a puppy, and a big responsibility for our family. She spent lots of time in a crate on our old back porch, before we remodeled, keeping the washer and dryer company. The rest of her time she spent in our back yard, before we had a pool. She was one rowdy puppy, and had the skill to somehow completely destroy (with her puppy and adolescent dog teeth) a 4' high Bird of Paradise plant, and a 10' high climbing rose.

What I have just learned is that we take the little things in life so for granted. And Cindy, with her constant love and affection, was a gift to us. Each day, a dog who just loved us all, that thought that we did no wrong.

She was the source of much joy and laughter. When the girls were younger, and our back yard was just grass, each summer she would join us in the car, for a 15 minute ride to my parents home, for a long game of Frisbee-catch in their swimming pool. As a Lab, she just loved the water - it really was her second home. And then, when our pool was finished five years ago, it became her real second home during warmer months.

I recall that very soon after we finished the pool, I noticed that something was acting up with the pool filter - the pressure was way above normal, a sign that the filter was somehow beginning to clog up. I thought we had a defective filter, I mean, the darned thing was brand new! I even called the manufacturer on their 800 number - and asked lots of questions. Half way through the phone conversation, I thought I should disclose the twice daily swimming habits of our dog. The fellow on the other end of the phone burst out laughing, and said something to the effect of "there's your problem with your pool filter bud - DOG FUR!"

I confessed to a good friend the other day that I felt terrible, as I was more saddened by the loss of this dog than I had been by the loss of my parents in the recent past. This good friend, who has known me for 20+ years, surprisingly disagreed (maybe its because he loves dogs), and pointed out that Cindy was such an intimate part of our lives for 12 years. Nancy and I were still in our 30s. I mean, really now, that sweet old dog literally grew up with us. In our home. Every day. She watched us love each other, fight with each other, struggle with life, fight back and let loose with tears, laugh loudly together, and she was such a fixture of each day. She helped us stay ordered, with her twice daily feeding, the walks through the neighborhood. Taking the time to stop and pet her, and tell her what a lovely girl she was.

As the years progressed, the bouncy young dog became quite regal, as she slowed .

And so, last Friday afternoon it was 55 outside and gray and raining, when we said goodbye to our dear brown friend. Appropriate weather. At left is a photo taken moments before Cindy left us....she gave me lots of kisses before she left. What a sweet way to say goodbye. It still feels a little gray in my heart.

Cindy taught us lots of stuff. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Be very sad when everyone excludes you, and makes you sit outside. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them. Never pass up the opportunity, and delight in the simple joy of a walk, or a run. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

Take naps. Play daily. Don't ever take yourself too seriously. Let people touch you. When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Be loyal. Protect your family. Never pretend to be something you're not. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, just sit or lie close by.

But for all the sadness, its worth it; for all the piles of love that sweet dog gave us. Sweet Cindy, you will be dearly missed. There will never be another dog quite like you.