Ok, so tonight I have a cold, and I am sitting around the house feeling mostly poopy. However, there is something redemptive in this, catching up on the new season of Deadliest Catch. What a show!
And then, in the midst of flipping over commercials with the DVR, I happen upon the commercial below. I just love this.
This is my youngest daughter. This photo is now about 12 years old. Often, children teach us so much about ourselves and life, if we are but willing to listen. Jesus knew this too, and spoke of it.
Perhaps 6 or 7 years ago, my youngest girl and I were driving someplace, to accomplish some long forgotten chore or trip to the store. We had a conversation on that drive that I will never forget, and often remember. I will take this memory with me to the very last day I am here on this planet. But first, something about Dr. Hawking.
Dr. Hawking Just the other day, I watched a video of Dr. Stephen Hawking speaking at the TED conference earlier this year in Monterey. Dr. Hawking, crippled by ALS, is, to me, a remarkable reflection of the sometimes elusive economy of God. I do not, for a moment understand why this great thinker, with such an amazing mind (and whimsical sense of humor), is confined to a wheelchair and only can communicate in an unbelievably arduous way. I am fascinated by this man.
At the TED conference, Dr. Hawking addressed the issue of whether we are alone in the Universe. Dr. Hawking estimates that there are no other alien life forms within a range of a few hundred million light years of earth. Remember, a light year is the distance it takes for light to travel in a year, and light travels at a speed of approximately 186,282 miles per second, in a vacuum, which is about 5,874,589,152,000 miles. Frankly, this is beyond the limits of my tiny brain. The Ride And so, the ride in the car with my daughter. It was just us two, on the way someplace in the family van. We had been discussing how long it takes to travel by plane to Grammie and Grandad's house in Toronto, Canada.
"Dad, how long does it take to fly to Grammie and Grandad's house?"
"Oh, about 4 hours, usually"
"And how long does it take to fly to New York City?"
"A little longer, maybe 5 hours"
"So what is the longest flight you can take in an airplane?"
"Well, that would probably be to Australia. It takes about 18 hours, I think."
"So, if you got on a plane, how long would it take to fly to Heaven?"
I was speechless. And for some reason, my eyes suddenly filled with tears, perhaps in the knowledge that I was experiencing, for just a moment, the impossible task of explaining the unexplainable. Maybe then, in that moment, I was faced with the task of defining the undefinable. I was overwhelmed.
I forget what I said in response. I still feel overwhelmed, a lot. Being a parent is like that. This is not business for the faint of heart, or of spirit.
In "Orthodoxy", GK Chesterton make the assertion that we should live our lives as if astonished by the world, each day. This resonates deeply with me.
I remain astonished by this world, and by the gifts he has given me in my children. They help me to see God, and how far it might be to travel to Heaven. Maybe not as far as I think.
Joshua Bell is one of the world's most accomplished violinists. He plays a violin made 1713 by Antonio Stradivari during the Italian master's "golden period," toward the end of his career, when he had access to the finest spruce, maple and willow, and when his technique had been refined to perfection. It is estimated Mr. Bell paid $3.5 million for it.
Gene Weingarten of the Washington Post just won a Pulitzer prize for a wonderful story he wrote about an experiment. Joshua Bell was asked to play his violin in the DC Metro - to see what would happen. The video is below.
This poem is quoted in the article, and sums up well the life most of us lead:
W. H. Davies Leisure
What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs, And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.
Take a look at this photo. Click on it to enlarge. This is a long post, but stay with me.
Sunday School Epiphany Last Sunday, this man, who teaches a Sunday school class I often attend, was teaching on Revelation 3, and in particular, he pointed out this verse as one of several that may have lent possible credence to the Nazis claim of superiority over the Jews, and contributed to the Holocaust.
And then, our teacher Dale showed us several photographs, including the one above. Nazi officers, in the midst of some of the worst genocide in the history of the planet, singing a song on a hillside, accompanied by an accordion. Amazing. Unbelievable.
For some reason, deep in my soul, I became immediately troubled. I was troubled in a very connected way, and it was not at all what I would have expected of myself. Years ago I visited some of the Death Camps, and I will never forget the feelings I had while there.
When seeing images like this, of Nazis singing in the midst of hell-on-earth, is, we might think to ourselves, "Oh, those bad, evil, dark people, how could they be like that." Those people. Over there. And perhaps subtly, we then think, in the back of our minds, "Glad that is over with, I don't know if I could never be that evil". Not me.
But not so this time, at least for me, in that Sunday school class. My thoughts were in an entirely different place. But first, a little background on the photos we were shown.
Karl Hoecker's Album The following description is from The New Yorker, with a link posted below.
In June of 1945, an American Army officer discovered a photograph album in an abandoned apartment, in Frankfurt. The album had a hundred and sixteen photos, nearly all of them portraying Auschwitz officers enjoying recreational activities. In 2006, the officer offered the album to the Holocaust Memorial Museum, in Washington, D.C. There is only one other album, the Lili Jacob album, known to portray life at Auschwitz. When the officer’s album arrived at the museum, in January, 2007, Rebecca Erbelding, a museum archivist, quickly confirmed that the subject of several photos in the album was Richard Baer, the commandant of Auschwitz from May, 1944, to January, 1945. Soon, Erbelding and Ron Coleman, a reference librarian, identified another prominent officer in one of the photos—Josef Mengele, the doctor who’d conducted experiments on prisoners. If the album consisted only of photographs of people who hadn’t been seen at Auschwitz, and of areas of Auschwitz that hadn’t been portrayed, or if it merely expanded the photographic record of Auschwitz, it would be valuable historically…but it has an enhanced value….In the fifty-four days between May 15 and July 8, 1944, a period partly covered in the Hoecker album, and called the Hungarian Deportation, four hundred and thirty-four thousand people were put aboard trains to Auschwitz—so many people that the crematoriums, which could dispose of a hundred and thirty-two thousand bodies a month, were overrun.”
What I Thought - My Epiphany Now, back to the thought that rushed into my head, upon seeing these photos of singing Nazis. Singing, while only yards away, thousands were being gassed to death. Joyous and completely oblivious, uncaring. How was that possible? What was wrong with those people? Could they not feel anything? Where was their compassion? Were they devoid of souls? And then, it hit me. In some way, I might be like those Nazis!
Perhaps I am not far from those men in the picture at all. My heart is often just as black. I am not superior. I am not better than they were. Not a bit.
Maybe I too, am singing while all hell is breaking loose. Darfur, Burma, inner city killing and crime, struggling teenagers in my own city.
What parts of my own life are like a singing Nazi? Where are the places where I could not give a crap about the suffering of others?
Am I just as clueless, and am I singing my life away, while others are suffering, and might I be able to make a difference?Pastor and author John Stott, in his most recent book, discusses the kinds of issues that should concern us, in caring for the suffering:
"According to UN statistics, the number of destitute people (who survive on less than 1 US dollar a day) is about a billion, while the average number who die every day of hunger and hunger-related causes, is said to be about 24,000. How can we live with these statistics? Many of the poor are our brothers and sisters. The Holy Spirit gives his people a tender social conscience. So those of us who live in affluent circumstances must simplify our economic situation - not because we imagine this will solve the world's macroeconomic problems but out of solidarity with the poor.
So then a living church is a caring church. Generosity has always been a characteristic of the people of God. Our God is a generous God; his church must be generous too."
I will be thinking about those photos of the Nazis for some time. A very long time. This will stick with me. Maybe I am mistaken, what do you think?
You can see selections of the Hoecker Album at The New Yorker magazine, here.
We are off to the desert for a couple days, the four of us. There might not be many more trips like this, before our oldest heads off to college next year.
I am so thankful for my family, and for this ride called life. I thought I should share this John Mayer song, set to clips of one of my favorite movies "The Bucket List". Its about having an abundant life....
Last night we had the honor to attend Disney Hall, and experience the conducting of Gustavo Dudamel, the new (September 2009) conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. The music was wonderful, the conducting passionate. I think I witnessed a visual representation of Joy.
What impressed me most was Mr. Dudamel's sense (at 27 years old) of his place on stage. Mr. Dudamel is a young phenom, and it would be easy for him to assume the roll of classical music conductor / rock star. But this is not what we saw at all.
Mr. Dudamel chose to conduct the final piece, Berlioz's "Symphonie fantastique", without sheet music. I was concerned he was trying to grand stand, and show the audience how much he knew. Not so at all. This was a young man who had, it seemed, literally crawled inside of a 50 minute piece, and let it become part of his soul.
The best part for me occurred after the music was over. What impressed me most was not the music, or the conducting, or the leadership of this young man. What left a mark on me was his great sense of humility, of his place in the orchestra. When the concert was over, and Mr. Dudamel came back on stage to take an encore bow, instead of standing alone in front of the orchestra, he moved several rows back into the orchestra, becoming a part of the greater whole. And then he turned around and motioned for many individuals, who had played beautiful parts during the concert, to stand, and receive their due. It was moving and wonderful - the probable classical conducting rock star standing aside, and giving way to the "little people" of the orchestra. It was beautiful. The best part occurred during the applause.
I am a Gustavo Dudamel fan. Count me in. This young man has the potential, if he can keep his sense of humility, to going far, and in doing so, blessing the world of classical music in Los Angeles for years to come. We are fortunate to have him. Welcome to LA, Gustavo.
For a wonderful peak into the character of this man, please, take a few minutes and watch the interview below. All my pastor friends need to watch this.....I think you will get it very easily, without any explanation needed. Not a bit.
"They have taken my Lord away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. "Woman," he said, "Why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?" Thinking he was the gardener, she said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him." Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher). From John 20:14-16
Twenty centuries later, I ask myself. Who is it, or what is it that I am looking for?
For approval? Meaning? Importance? Recognition? Busy-ness? Wealth? Longevity? Comfort? Safety?
