Where do I go when the music starts?

 

Where do I go when the music starts?

When I blow my horn and jazz blurts out?

Maybe I am holed up in the right hemisphere with the shades drawn

– the motel existential.

Maybe I go underground and then

Maybe, man, I am submersed head-to-toe in liquid sublimity –

Me being all lava-in-a-lamp like.

 

Where do I go when the music starts?

I go with it.

 

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

This Empty Old House

Jesus, after responding to the Pharisees and teachers of the law regarding a sign of his authority said this:

 “When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it.  Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order.  Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse than the first. That is how it will be with this wicked generation.” The Gospel of Matthew chapter 12 vs. 43-45

 Notice here that everything is “swept clean and put in order”.  There is a sense that everything is OK because everything looks so good.  In fact, things appear normal. Yet, the home is vacant, not being used for its purpose. It is a shell of a place waiting for life.

 The homeowner is not home. Maybe the owner is out living wildly, living the high life.  Maybe, he is out being busy helping others or the environment or …

 It doesn’t matter where the homeowner is.  If the homeowner doesn’t come home, if he doesn’t even look inside he won’t see what is going on inside, he won’t see who or what is living in his home.

 You should know that the whole purpose of the Evil One and His minions is to keep you occupied ‘outside’ of yourself so that you never realize what is going on inside.  He doesn’t want any meaningful introspection or self-examination.  This might lead to a person to seeing their need for Christ. And, without the homeowner’s honest self-reflection the pretense of a normal well-polished life goes on uninterrupted.

 While a homeowner is narcissistically occupied with how he looks on the outside instead of reflecting on what is happening on the inside his home is an easy target for vagrants that move in unnoticed. Unbridled chaos is sure to ensue in the home without the homeowner present.  This type of “non-resident” homeowner will operate under the guise of a well-controlled “normalcy” and will even use lies and scapegoating to protect that veneer of normalcy.

 Martin Buber, a noted philosopher, has said that the malignantly narcissistic insist upon “affirmation independent of all findings.” In other words, they want you to tell them that their house is looking good and that things are normal but don’t dare tell them the rest. These people, these “homeowners”, do not want you to name the problems that you see going on inside. To name it would mean that there is a problem, a defect within the home.  Denial by these “homeowners” keeps them at a safe distance away from the problem.  And while they are away they chose to be occupied full-time with attention-getting measures well apart from their true unexamined self. This leaves the house “unoccupied, swept-clean and in order”.

   Reinforcing the homeowner’s self-valuation of his “property” is the world community with a culture promoting narcissism. Keeping up with the Joneses means more and more external fixes and less and less real home inspections.

 Add to that the newest electronic gadgetry which is endlessly sought in order to pacify the mind and to fill our time with endless chatter and noise – anything but to face the drip, drip, drip of our conscience.

 The homeowner’s absence can often be accounted for by a prodigal’s lust for secularism and/or atheism and/or a playful agnosticism – anything to keep from being at home alone with the truth.

 Consequently, our lives and our country have become vacuums for whatever is “out there” waiting to come in.  and, it is the Evil One Who wants to come in to your “home” and put his feet up. He knows that the empty and disillusioned will be out busy doing his bidding seeking to hold it all together, seeking to make the world a better place through pagan ideologies, to rise above the fray of imperfection. He knows that these same people will seek social policies and reforms to dress up the neighborhood, increasing the value of his own “home”

 Postmodern man while looking through the windows of his empty clean house searches for something to fill its void. He spots man made rainbows with their promises for self-fulfillment, brotherhood, world peace, etc. He then scurries out to grab hold of those colorful ribbons. But they are empty promises, condensation which evaporates in his hand when he returns home and stands at the threshold of his empty home.

 Postmodern man fancies himself as an intellectual above and beyond the simple wisdom and knowledge of the Creator Christ and His Good News of Atonement, the Gospel. Countless verbose posts blather on in confused pagan ideological nonsense.  And, pretentious rapid-fire Tweets pretend to be “so knowing” in 140 characters or less. The words come from empty places, filling the space and time given us by the Creator with constant noise and endless chatter. This din blocks out the voice of God. He is calling us home.

 In his swept and clean house, modern man often feeds his self-pity with promiscuous self-serving behavior.  He papers the walls of his empty house with tattoos – banners testifying to the past demons that have lived there. He is lord of his manor or is he?

 Turning to main point of this post, sadly, many Christians are standing outside their homes.  They are compromised.  And, many churches teach about a kind and compassionate Jesus but not about the fire and the sword Lord Jesus Christ. Many people,  Christian and non-Christian “homeowners”, want the Jesus who welcomes them home but not the Jesus who will cast out the demons who are living there.

 Because of soft-selling doctrines and the preaching of partial truths via synthetic gospels the person in the pew begins to feel that he, too, can compromise his Christian doctrine-ethics at every turn. He will tell himself (compassionately, of course) that he is only trying to survive and at the same time trying to be socially concerned and accepting about others. These same “followers” of Christ are never told that lukewarm Christians will be spewed out of the mouth of the Lord Jesus Christ and that sexual fornicators do not enter the kingdom of heaven.

 As I see it, much of the American church, has lost the touchstone of the Early Christian church creeds and Truth.  Many have left behind doctrine in search of Holy Grail social and political reforms hoping to fill the vacancies of our empty “homes”.

 Dorothy Sayers, author of the Peter Wimsey mystery novels and Christian apologist would say that we as Christians have a choice:  Creed or Chaos? She would say that we must know what the creeds are and what they rightly stand for before we go to battle with the pagan world.  She notes that we as Christians are in a war of dogmas. Only, the pagan side’s dogma is termed “ideology”.

I am praying for a revival in this country.  Revival will begin when the early Christian church creeds and dogmas are held to be true by today’s Christian, when the Christian is present to them and to himself.  It will happen when Christians pour the foundations of their own homes with the concrete truth of those creeds and the Christian puts his whole weight on those creeds. It will happen when the abundant life brought by the Holy Spirit indwells the homeowner as he stands in his home.  Then, from out of this place, as Dorothy Sayers wrote in Creed or Chaos, the Christian may speak to his neighbor about God, man, sin, judgment, matter, work and society.

 A swept-clean house is great but of what value is it if no one comes home and is present. And, what else could be living in this empty old house?

Coat Check

Social justice.  The very words conjure up radical emotions towards the inequality of means.  The response by those guided by such vacuous and subjective words is almost always “We have to do something to make things right, to make things fair.” So off they go in the direction of collectivism and socialism seeking fairness.  To them these sociopolitical ideologies offer fairness and a fairness which must be won at any cost. But as the bumper sticker says, “Social Justice is neither.” And, it certainly is not fair.  If it is anything it is manifested envy, pure and simple.

 The story of Fairness and his brothers Envy, Ungrateful and Solipsism is four thousand years old. It is the story of Joseph being given a coat.

 Recapping the Old Testament story from Genesis:  Jacob and Rachel had a son named Joseph. Joseph was the youngest of Jacob’s eleven sons born in the service of Laban. The twelfth son, Benjamin, was born later in Canaan. Joseph’s father Jacob favored Joseph and gave him a special coat as a gift; as a result, he was envied by his brothers, who saw the special coat as an indication that Joseph would assume family leadership. His brothers’ suspicion grew when Joseph told them of his two dreams (Genesis 37:11) in which all the brothers bowed down to him. The envy of the brothers may also have stemmed from the fact that Joseph was the son of Rachel, Jacob’s first love.

The narrative tells that his brothers plotted against Joseph when he was 17, and would have killed him had not the eldest brother Reuben, who, even though had the most to lose if Joseph ascended to a family leadership role, interposed. He persuaded them instead to throw Joseph into a pit and secretly planned to rescue him later. However, while Reuben was absent, the others planned to sell him to a company of Ismaelite merchants. When the passing Midianites arrived, the brothers dragged Joseph up and sold him to the merchants for 20 pieces of silver. The brothers then dipped Joseph’s coat in goat blood and showed it to their father, saying that Joseph had been torn apart by wild beasts…

Popular social psychology suggests that a father figure should give a fair share to his children in order to not hurt the child’s id or ego or self-esteem, what have you. The same thinking would blame the parent for discriminating with his favor. This thinking would continue to say that Jacob was unfair to Joseph’s brothers and that the family was dysfunctional at best. Popular psychology would not hold Joseph’s brothers accountable for their actions.  Popular psychology would blame the father and the dysfunction around the brothers.

 The brother’s, of course, looked at what they didn’t get from their father and became obsessed with Joseph’s position of favor in their father’s eyes. And though each of them knew the largesse of their father for many more years than the youngest sibling Joseph they didn’t regard this of any value.  Instead they collectively chose to obsess about what they viewed as Joseph’s privileged life. Well, you know where that led – to the slavery of Joseph, the loss of fellowship with their brother and the father’s loss of a son – all for the bottom line of greed and envy, the progenitors of social justice and fairness. Their “self-righteous” ends justified their means.  This is moral relativism. 

 The Bible clearly records the brother’s envy and doesn’t paint it over with popular psychology. Sadly, populist social envy or class warfare with its “picking winners and losers” rhetoric (e.g., in terms of wealth, hedge fund manager-bad, Oprah Winfrey-good) has even infiltrated the church with its social gospel sermons.

 What should have happened:  Joseph’s brothers should have rejoiced with their brother over his recent gift.  They should have been happy for him and congratulated him. Instead, they saw what they didn’t have and became ‘coated’ with envy green. This brings me full circle back to the terms “social justice” and “fairness”. Both of these terms are full of themselves and nothing else except to be further defined as “a loss to someone else”.  “Fairness” in the hands of the envious is a deadly business.  And, wolfish human nature doesn’t change under the sheepskin cloak of wishful altruism.

 BTW:  The Hebrew origin of the name Joseph means “God will add” or “May Yahweh add”.

 *****

 Joseph was later able to feed and house his brothers during a seven-year famine.  You will have to read the rest of the story (basically the second half of the book of Genesis) to find out how God used Joseph in spite of the social engineers who sought to rid their lives of unfairness and a brother with it.

The Boy in the Tent

Last night I found myself in a van, my ex driving us to a familiar campground in the next state.  We wanted to get there as fast as we could.  We urgently wanted to get to our seven year-old son.

 We drove through the darkness panting and leaning forward in our seats. Just before sunrise we entered the campground.  We drove over to the campsite where we had camped many times before. There in the middle of a grassy opening surrounded by oak trees was a lone pup tent.

 I jumped out of the van and ran over to the tent. Down on my knees I lifted the tent flap and looked into the dimly lit tent.  My son was sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty tent.  He was facing the other way.

 There was nothing in front of him. He sat dead still.

 I crawled over to him.  As I did so he turned his head to look at me. He then got up, jumped into my arms and hugged me tightly.

 After a while we released our hug and I put him down.  He returned to sit in the same place in the tent. He sat down facing away from me.

 I went out of the tent.  My ex had been yelling from the car that we had to leave.

 I called back to my son and told him that we were going, that he must come along. There was no reply.

 ****

 I opened my eyes and winced them shut again.  The pit of my stomach felt as if it had been carved out of me while I slept.  When the silent sobbing began I tried to cover the wound.

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

October

 

OCTOBER

 

Old earth tone

Palettes congregate,

Line the streets

*** 

Crispy air

Shuffles khaki leaves,

Remember

 ***

Cinnamon

Sticks in the throat

Of mull jugs

***

Pumpkins gloat

As ghouls beg for more,

Wrappers fall

 ***

Full moon lit

Shadows emerge –

Negatives

 

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

The Catch of The Day

I have often returned to the eyewitness account of Jesus walking on the water and of Peter’s eager attempt to do the same. I do so especially when I am not sure about my next step.

 It is an unusual account not only because the rules of physics were usurped but also because Jesus is meeting the men in the midst of their daily work. 

 Peter and the others made their living as fisherman.  Everything they needed depended on the day’s catch. The families of these men and the markets were waiting at home.  So come hell or high water they would go out on the Sea of Galilee trawling for fish.

 One night hell and high water came –a fierce storm suddenly arose.  Their small fishing boat was buffeted by the wind and the waves. The sail was useless and rowing had become impossible.  Their whole effort was used to keep an even keel so as not to capsize and lose their nets in the process.

 In the rain-swept darkness there suddenly walked a figure – a man walking on the water towards them.  Perhaps, they thought, it is a ghost.  No one in their right mind would be out in this weather and certainly not for a stroll on the sea. This did not bode well for superstitious fishermen.

 During a streak of lightning, perhaps, Peter thinks he recognizes the profile of Jesus. At this point Peter might have said to himself, “Jesus!  Jesus is not safe. He’s way out on the deep end. Walking on water just might be another one of those “Jesus things’ that keep you guessing. But, my gut tells me to go with it for now.”

 Out of the gale comes a voice, “Take courage! It is I.Don’t be afraid.”

 So Peter yells, “Lord, if it is you, tell me to come to you on the water.”  And Jesus said “Come!”

 Peter stood up in the small boat almost tipping it over. Unsteady, heart racing, he grabbed the hull with one hand and lifted his right leg out of the boat. He put his right foot down on the water.  His foot made no hole in the water. He slowly shifted his balance and brought his left leg out of the boat. Peter stood on the substance of things not seen. He straightened up and looked over at Jesus. The storm was still raging behind the apparition-turned-Apotheosis.

 Yet, in an instant the full weight of Peter’s reason, creating a confluence of fear, opened the sea below him like a watery trap door. He sank down into water over his head.

Treading in the choppy waters as best he could, Peter cried for help, “Lord, save me!”

Jesus caught hold of Peter’s hand and pulled him up.  While holding Peter’s hand and looking Peter square in the eye (I can only imagine.) Jesus said, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

“And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.  Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

Hoisting the sail, Peter and the crew got back to the business at hand – making a living from being gut sure of what they hoped for and being more certain of what they did not see – fishing.

The eyewitness account that relates Peter’s story is recorded in Matthew’s Gospel (14:22-33)

Lost At Sea

 

When I saw the beacon,

The light in your eyes,

I followed its beam to the shore.

 

Adrift so long,

So far from any harbor

I sailed to you.

 

Yet, another now stands between us

Eclipsing love.

The sea now rises above the horizon.

 

 

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

*****

The Age of Outrage: Incensed Sensibilities

  

In terms of human nature I do not know that our world is much different from all the worlds of centuries past. Human nature appears to be a constant. But I do see that today because of the enormous reach of instant electronic media we are at any given moment enjoined to take offense at anything perceived to be an attack on the rosy perception we have of ourselves and our world.  We will even take offense for others whose shoes we are not wearing. The general response to any perceived threat to the safety net, our egos, is often to tweet ourselves and others with word-packets of rage. Misery loves communication. Just ask Obama.

Obama has an #attackwatch Twitter website (attackwatch.com) set up by his campaign people to gather reports about attacks on Obama’s record.  The site invites you to snitch on your neighbor in order to intercept smears to Obama’s mirrors.

Today, for the most part, narcissism is the ‘I-cad’ battery behind the hardware and software of every electronic gadget purchased for personal communication. And once powered up, every gadget is attuned to the mirror on the wall affixing our image clearly in cyberspace. The  “human” part of the gadget’s human machine interface (HMI) is easily prone to having its ego front and center where it will stand ready and waiting for an offense, for its sensibilities to be stirred to anger. It may take only one indirect affront to reach the tipping point. When that happens, outrage will then be projected onto everyone around us causing human interface disconnects go viral.

As the word “outrage” suggests, we do not keep our offended selves to ourselves.  We blast the horn loudly. We rise up on our hind legs and make a fierce growling sound in direction of the perceived offender. We lash out. We strike. We mock and jeer. We demonstrate, we march and we riot. We “flash” our rancor into vigilantism and mob action. We jump the shark with self-righteous responses, pummeling others with our heavy-handed diatribes. Cooler heads do not prevail. Instead, hot heads storm the gates of decency and respect. Our egos deem that the “other” has not been fair or there has not been adequate homage to our feelings. We text ourselves and to others ‘We deserve better”.

 So, in this Age of Outrage with it electronically vaunted egos and its absence of meekness and personal contentment, with all of its rants and its plethora of pretense and aborted conversations and with the death of civility lying everywhere around you you end up getting exactly what you deserve – more of yourself.

“All of civility depends on being able to contain the rage of individuals.”
Joshua Lederberg, American Molecular Biologist

“Treat others the way you want to be treated.” Jesus

*****

AttackWatch Update:

“By contrast, Reagan and both Bushes dealt with attacks either with good humor in the former case or by ignoring them in the latter. One criticism of President George W. Bush is that he ignored attacks a little too much, allowing some of the accusations to take hold without a response. “

Source:  http://news.yahoo.com/attack-watch-snitch-focus-internet-fun-195600841.html

Convergence

Apartment life. Life ala compressed multiculturalism and noise.  People upstairs. People downstairs. People next door. Surround sound, surround smell, surround people 24/7. No man is an apartment unto himself.

Latin oompah music pumps my eardrums at all hours.  Asian Techno music throbs somewhere in the water pipes.  An unbalanced washing machine in the basement bangs against the wall or is it the churning dance music beat of the sixteen year old listening to Pit Bull in the next apartment? Fights, arguments, door slamming and door knocking. Sounds of silence  – No Vacancy here.

 The Filipino couple across the hall is fighting again.  The guy’s stuff is scattered all over the second floor hallway and in front of my door. He knocking, calling and crying. No one answers – for about four hours.

 The black girl in apartment C has just came home from work. She’s carrying her one year old son up the stairs. The boy’s father will be over on the weekend. He wishes she lived on the first floor. In a recently and easily overheard argument I heard him say to her “You never see the things I don’t do.” I knew at that point that things would not get better. I turn up Lacrimosa from Mozart’s Requiem.

 On the weekends, the Brit school teacher in apartment B gets in his car to pick up his two-year old son. Otherwise, he has satellite TV and the nearby sports bar.

 The drunk in apartment C routinely stumbles through the hallway to get his social security check out of the mailbox. He will soon walk over to the same sports bar.

 A young Asian couple moved upstairs last weekend. For some reason they roam their bedroom all night long.  Their footsteps run across my ceiling putting out my dreams.

 Again tonight the hippie couple who live downstairs and two doors over sit outside by their clay chiminea. The smell of pot is becoming heavy in the air. No way to Teach Your Children.

I close my patio door to that dreamland wafting up and to the choking smoke coming from grilling Tecate chicken below me. I had wanted to sit outside on my small porch and enjoy the summer night but there is also a guy fixing his SUV in the parking lot.  The SUV rear-end is jacked up and so is Lil Wayne’s She Will. Stille nacht not.

 Tik Tok. In case you are wondering, I get up at 3:30 am in the morning and get ready for work. I catch the 5:04 train to the city. So, I go to bed at 8:15 pm. But tonight, like every other night, the Hispanic family downstairs decides to use their bathroom.  This is a problem because for the past year the fan, which toggles “On” with the light, makes a “grrrr” sound like its being forced to run against its electrical will. The “grrrr” sound continues through my neighbor’s shower and then some into my angst. Why don’t they get it fixed? No entiendo.  Maybe, there is so much other noise they can’t tell there is a problem.

 And, oh yeah, I had to stop using the building’s washer and dryer. I think someone uses Sackrete to wash their clothes. I now use a local laundry mat and that is a whole other reality series experience. I tell myself I get to meet new and interesting people.

 It’s Friday night and this is all I know:   Estoy muy cansado and I am rocking myself to sleep in the free world.

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

It’s A Nuclear Family Affair

The Big Bang or the time of the Great Annihilation, when Matter and Antimatter clashed and cosmic sparks went flying, the progeny of majorons provided the universe with an asymmetric mix of neutrinos and anti-neutrinos, more quarks than anti-quarks. And, that’s what Mattered the most.

It was in That Beginning that Time and his twin-brother Space were born. Since that day, they sprawl the universe with their feet up and their hands behind their head.  Under a contractual agreement, though, they will have to return – from whence they came.

 Time, the patient caregiver, the healer of all wounds, or, as has been seen, the brutal tormentor of the long-sufferer, always takes his time. He’s been known to say, “A day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.”

 Space, a distance runner, hopes to place in the next inter-galactic marathon.

 Space and Time or Space-Time as they are often called spend most of their time-space wrestling in gelatin with friends and neighbors. They tell me that this adds dimension to their lives. They listen to string-theory music while wrestling.

 Miss Universe, a stellar beauty, is curvy. The brothers also spend their time following her around.

 Speed-of-Light, the brothers’ close friend, always beats them to the remote whenever something special is broadcast.

 My family, the Atoms family, spends its time playing king-of-the-hill and marbles. We do like knock-knock jokes. Little Hydrogen gets pushed around a lot, though.

 The Nebulae Family members, known for their starry eyes, are nomadic. They spend their time gazing at Space-Time from a point of departure somewhere in the galaxy.

 The favorite saying of the Planet households is “What goes around comes around.” Their favorite hangout is the Milky Way.  They own several tanning salons.

 I guess that if Time were to be no more and if Space was pigeonholed and if Speed-of-light was somehow surpassed and if Family Nebulae no longer roamed and if the Planet households split up then, God knows, you and I are no longer relative.

© Jennifer A. Johnson, 2011, All Rights Reserved

H/T to italo calvino

 

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
   Tell me, if you understand.
 Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
   Who stretched a measuring line across it?
 On what were its footings set,
   or who laid its cornerstone—
 while the morning stars sang together
   and all the angels shouted for joy? Job 38:4-7

 

*****

“We don’t allow faster-than-light neutrinos in here,” says the bartender.

A neutrino walks into a bar.

–Joke circulating on the internet