NSoC 5: Things in Their Identity

See Notes on this series...
According to Merton, every being in creation has its own identity and individuality and it brings glory to God by being what he created it to be. The more the being is like its true self the more it is like God. God receives less glory from his creatures who try to be other than what they were created for. Guess who bears that stigma most of all? That's right, me. God's other created beings don't bear the shame of diluting his glory, mainly because they have no choice in the matter. God makes a tree; the tree is powerless to be anything other than a tree. There will never be another tree just like it again, either in form or in circumstance, but as long as the tree sways in the breeze and shades the sun and drops its leaves at the appropriate time and bears its fruit and converts carbon dioxide into oxygen, it is fulfilling its destiny. It's the same for a mountain, or a horse, or a small yellow flower on the side of the road.

My problem is that God has given me the freedom to be whatever I like. On the surface that sounds like a great deal, but because I was born into sin my tendency is to choose to be other than what I truly am.

Merton suggests is it possible to go through life changing masks as circumstances dictate and never reveal my true self. There are consequences to this, he warns, for when I finally realize my need for truth, chances are it won't be there for me if I've consistently chosen "the way of falsity."

What to do? Merton describes my "vocation" as joining God in active discovery of the truth of my identity. He says this is what the Bible means by "working out our own salvation," and he declares that it is by far the more difficult path. But he says without partnering with God, the work won't get done, because he is the way, and the way is a way of faith.

Merton explains that I came into the world with a false self because of sin and if I do nothing but accept that false self I might as well not have been born.

He describes the false self as a hollow self without foundation, wrapped about with desires and thirsts that I seek to satisfy because I mistakenly see this false self as the center of the universe.

Where then is my hope? According to Merton, it is "hidden in the love and mercy of God." In other words, my hope of finding my true identity is found in him, and the only way I can find him is by him.

Quaff:
I remember listening to the ocean at night through the open window of a beach condo, the waves rolling ashore with regularity, and realizing that the cycle of crash and recede, crash and recede, had been uninterrupted since the water had been separated from the land. I used to think it a great example of faithfulness, but really it's just the ocean doing what it was created to do. Honor to God for his creative artistry, not to the ocean.

I agree wholeheartedly with Merton that "working" to find our true identities is hard. I know because of the work I've done on my own recovery, the work that I've seen others do on theirs, and the people who gave up and walked away from it. Celebrate Recovery's Principle 1 is a stumbling block to a lot of people: Realize that I am not God. I admit that I am powerless to control my tendency to do the wrong thing and that my life is unmanageable.

Quiz:
On a scale of 1 ("there is no lameness in you") to 10 ("you are as lame as is possible"), where do I rank on the scale scale of lameness if I am concerned about wearing the right mask in front of people at work, church, or home, who are most likely wearing masks themselves?

NSoC 4: Everything That Is, Is Holy

See Notes on this series...
Merton addresses the proper consideration of things in this chapter. With what he calls a new perspective, he believes that we erroneously detach ourselves from things in order to become closer to God when in fact we should become detached from ourselves in order to see the proper relationship between God and things. Failure to do so relegates God to a "thing" in competition with his creation for our affection.

Merton states that nothing God created has evil in it, nor can anything he created stand in the way of our relationship with him. It is our holding on to our false self that is the problem as we pervert things and corrupt the relationship. Our holding onto the false idol of our ego makes the use of things unholy.

He corrects what he sees as a false belief that saints and contemplatives of old had no love for things and shunned the world and people around them. He accuses those who hold this false belief of fostering a sense of morality that is nourished by a love of guilt. These people see the saints in perpetual turmoil over "spontaneity or enjoyment," even over something so base as a glass of cold water. He counters this caricature by explaining that the contemplative can love and enjoy created things and even give greater glory to God implicitly than one who has contempt for the created or one who uses tired cliches to connect God and his creation without sounding worldly or materialistic. He says beautifully that "[t]he eyes of the saint make all beauty holy and the hands of the saint consecrate everything they touch to the glory of God..."

Merton says that until we love God perfectly we live in bondage to our false self, and in this bondage all created things have the potential to cause hurt. He defines a contradiction that exists within this bondage where the things God created to attract us to him actually draw us away from him. We look to these things for joy but find sorrow, pleasure but pain.

Quotation:

In all created things we, who do not yet perfectly love God, can find something that reflects the fulfillment of heaven and something that reflects the anquish of hell. We find something of the joy of blessedness and something of the pain of loss, which is damnation.

The fulfillment we find in creatures belongs to the reality of the created being, a reality that is from God and belongs to God and reflects God. The anquish we find in them belongs to the disorder of our desire which looks for a greater reality in the object of our desire than is actually there: a greater fulfillment than any created thing is capable of giving. Instead of worshipping God through His creation we are always trying to worship ourselves by means of creatures.

But to worship our false selves is to worship nothing. And the worship of nothing is hell.

Merton clarifies that he is not talking about the body when he talks of the false self. If the body is "the temple of God," then we aren't to scorn it or misuse it, especially by dividing it from the soul by saying one is good and one is bad. He reminds us that being created in God's image means that it is a package deal. Too much emphasis on the soul to the demotion of the body results in "angelism." The other way around reduces life to the confines of the five senses and denies any reality outside of sensory experience. This person finds security within the confines of the senses and refuses heed God's call to the risk of faith.

Quaff:
We are studying Ray Vander Laan's In the Dust of the Rabbi on Wednesday nights at St. Peter's, and in one episode Vander Laan explains a fountain that would have flowed from the temple of Athena in the ancient Greek city of Priene. Anyone of that day who stopped for a drink or to wash their face or feet would have believed that the water came from the goddess Athena, since it flowed from her temple. Vander Laan challenges his students, who had stopped their hike at a waterfall prior to reaching the temple ruins, to see if any of them had even thought about God as they partook of the cool water there. Of course, none of them had. As a culture we aren't conditioned to. If we want water, we turn on a tap. Water comes from the water works through a series of filtration stations, pipes, and faucets. Right?

The "love of guilt" is a thorn in my flesh. It has been pervasive in my life. When conditions are marginal around here for wintry precipitation, I sometimes pray for snow so my kids can enjoy it. Then I realize that if I get my wish for snow, some homeless guy's cardboard box will get wet. I feel guilty. I throw out a bowl of soup that stayed too long in the refrigerator and I remember some of the poor villages I've been to in Ukraine and how welcome that soup, even a week old, would be. I feel guilty. I shred a box of old receipts, pay stubs, and bank statements, and ponder how much money has passed through my fingers in my lifetime. I feel guilty.

I served for a time in a recovery ministry, and I am convinced that Merton is spot-on in his assessment of the contradiction things provide when we don't love God perfectly. A hearty meal in one context loudly proclaims the glory of God, the bounty of the earth, the artistry of the chef, the diversity of the ingredients, but in another context... A fine wine, the form and function of the opposite sex, a pile of money, a five-mile run, a sleek automobile, a church sanctuary, a sandy beach; all hang in the balance between heaven and hell.

Quibble:
I keep one eye open to the goings-on in the SBC even though I aren't one anymore, and the debate continues in many quarters over the evils of alcohol. People who shout long and loud over the inerrency of scripture and castigate other denominations for reading things into the text have no qualms about projecting their holiness about alcohol into the pages of the Bible by stating that "wine" in scripture doesn't mean "wine" like we mean today, but that Jesus created and drank a watered-down version more akin to juice. Nevermind that the Bible warns against drunkenness, which I assume would only be a valid admonition if the juice was actually strong enough to make one drunk, in which case it would be wine. After pondering that convoluted eisegisis I needed a drink, so I had one. I didn't particularly care for it but I drank it on principle, without sin, and the sky didn't fall and I didn't drop dead and the clank the link of chain made as it struck the ground was pleasing to my ears.

Query:

• What does "love God perfectly" mean?
• How can I see the Creator of all things instead of the createdness of all things?
• How fine a line is there between innocently enjoying the things God has created and justifying as enjoyment my misuse of them?

NSoC 3: Seeds of Contemplation

See Notes on this series...
The lofty themes of God's will and God's love are exposed as the seeds of contemplation in chapter 3. Not surprisingly, Christ's parable of the sower is foundational to Merton's thesis, and he takes the illustration deeper than its normal application as the mere word of God preached. The source and sort of the seed and the fertileness of our fields to receive it are probed here.

Merton says that every expression of God's will is in a sense a word of God and thence a seed. This opens the possibility of continual dialog with God that transcends mere conversation but, as he beautifully describes, "a dialogue of love and of choice[, a] dialogue of deep wills."

This will of God is manifest in our lives not as tangible rote law of a dictatorial and domineering father but as "interior invitation of personal love." The former more often results in seeds of hatred and our desire to "fly as far as possible" from this God. He places a lot of significance in what our ideas about God are, even though we are incapable of describing him as he is. He says that our idea of God says more about us than it does about him.

Merton then explains that our ability to respond to this love depends on how attached we are to that external self he defined in the previous chapter. If I am prisoner to that self, how can God plant seeds of liberty in me? How can I see God if my focus is on maintaining that external self?

Merton paints a beautiful picture of God's love in the midst of heat, cold, fulness, hunger, and labor. He says that if we only consider the cold, the heat, the hunger, the thirst, the success, or the failure that we will only find emptiness. But our goal is not mere success or pleasure, but finding the will of God in the midst of the journey.

How is that done? Merton defines God's will as the demands of truth, justice, mercy, and love. Seeking truth, respecting others, and sharing in God's love for our neighbors exemplify the will of God.

Merton states then that work itself can be an expression of the will of God. I am obeying God in my work if I am true to the task at hand, whatever it may be. Care, excellence, respect, and attention allows God to use me as an instrument, and thus work cannot be considered an acontemplative act though my mind might be occupied with the task. However, "unnatural toil," such as work for greed or fear, "unnatural, frantic, anxious work" done in distraction due to either our sin or the sin of society, cannot be blessed along with "sound, healthy work." We must seek the truth in all we do.

Quaff:
Several thoughts from contemporary and theological sources came to mind as I mulled over this chapter. First, the idea that every moment of our lives plants something in our souls is used by Natalie Goldberg in her book Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within, as she describes the writing life. All our experiences are tossed like "...thrown-out eggshells, spinach leaves, coffee grounds, and old steak bones..." to produce, eventually, the flowers of poems and stories, nourished in rich black dirt.

Second, Merton's description of our ideas about God reminded me of A. W. Tozer's writing in The Knowledge of the Holy, where he states that "the most important thing about us is what we think about when we think about God," and "the essence of idolatry is entertaining thoughts about God that are unworthy of Him." Tozer really eats my lunch.

Merton says God's will is all around us, and in reading his description of it I couldn't help but think of Jesus' answer to the greatest commandment question: "The most important is, 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these." Someone asked him once how to inherit eternal life, and his answer was essentially the same as the greatest commandment question, but he used as an explanation the parable of the Good Samaritan, which is essentially Merton's definition of doing the will of God.

Quibble:
The will of God is one of those God-talk phrases that I fear evangelicalism has corrupted, or at least grossly misunderstood. Often, the will of God is presented as some lost treasure or unsolved puzzle, and our assignment as Christians is to either stumble upon it somewhere just off an uncharted jungle trail or twist the cryptex until the right combination is registered and the secret pops out. "God has a wonderful plan for your life" has set many an explorer off on an adventure, scavenger list in hand, fearful of making a wrong turn or a wrong decision, or even worse, paralyzing some against movement at all.

Quip:
I love Ted Kooser's definition of "love thy neighbor" in his poem Boarding House:

The blind man draws his curtains for the night
and goes to bed, leaving a burning light

above the bathroom mirror. Through the wall,
he hears the deaf man walking down the hall

in his squeaky shoes to see if there's a light
under the blind man's door, and all is right.

Query:

• Do I see and respect the rights and needs of my neighbor?
• Do I see my work as doing the will of God?
• Do I entertain proper thoughts about God and who he is?

NSoC 2: What Contemplation Is Not

See Notes on this series...
As Merton built a tower to transcendence in chapter 1, he tears down some of our monuments to contemplative life in chapter 2.

First, he explains that contemplation cannot be taught. The more we try to define, objectify, and order it, the further away from true contemplation we get. The closer we get to defining it the closer we get to a non-existent psychology of contemplation. Contemplation is not found or described by our actions or feelings, neither is it quantifiable or observable.

Merton explains that true contemplation cannot be a function of our external selves. The "I" that we show to the world is not the real self that is united with God in Christ. The "I" is "...the vesture, the mask, the disguise of that mysterious and unknown "self" whom most of us never discover until we are dead." This "I" is not our eternal beings nor our spiritual beings.

Then he deconstructs one of the philosophical cornerstones, Descartes' cogito ergo sum: I think, therefore I am.

Next, he debunks the idea that contemplation is just for "a passive and quiet temperament." It is not merely thoughtfulness or reflection. Neither is it a prayerfulness or an affinity for liturgy. Temperament, prayer, and liturgy can all prepare one for contemplation but neither are that experience in and of themselves. He contrasts a passive man and an active man and their dispositions to contemplation, finding fault with each of them. The passive man who "sits and thinks" is not necessarily contemplating, though he finds it easy to be mislead into thinking he is. The active man struggles with finding contemplation, though he may be motivated, because his tendency is to objectify it as just another goal.

He removes contemplation from the realm of the mystical by means of emotion and imagination, relegating these to awakenings of contemplation but not the work of the "deep self" itself. Contemplation is not prophetic, discerning the secrets of others.

Nor is it characterized by "escape from conflict, anguish, or doubt." In fact, contemplation might cause us to doubt the "faith" of every day life and its conventional wisdom. Contemplation is no "pain-killer."

He ends the chapter by explaining that the contemplative suffers because he realizes that he doesn't know what God is. The sooner he realizes that this is a gain, not a loss, the better off he is, for "God is neither a "what" or a "thing" but a pure "Who.""

Quaff:
Ouch. Where to begin? I've written reams (not all for public consumption) dealing with my own struggles with the superficial, external "I". I know my weakness there. I need reminding that that "I" is not the "I" I present to God, in contemplation or otherwise.

I've also dealt somewhat with God as "Who" not "what." Again, reminders that he is personal, and that transcendent person calls me out of myself in confession and contemplation with him as both the source and objective of the experience. I can't find him within myself, nor within ritual, nor even within prayer, if I don't recognize his transcendence calling to my real self, the one inside, the one I suppress and avoid and deny and hide. It is great wonder that ever the twain shall meet.

I also stated earlier that just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I'm contemplative. That's what Merton said, too. So there.

Query:
Will the real Brian please stand up?

Quip:
Descartes: I think, therefore I am.
Watkins: He Is, therefore I am.
God: I AM, therefore you too.

NSoC 1: What Is Contemplation?

See Notes on this series...
Merton begins the book in a necessary way by defining contemplation. In his Preface he warns that contemplation can be a misleading word by becoming magical or inspirational, and yet, he states in his Author's Note, contemplation is one thing that we all need - provided it springs from the love of God.

So he starts loftily and builds a tower from there. He speaks of contemplation as man's highest intellectual and spiritual realization that he is alive, and that realization is manifest in responses of awe, gratitude, and recognition of the source of life.

He adds height to the tower when he speaks of the "unknowing", even beyond "unknowing", transcendence of contemplation as it surpasses the mere aesthetics of poetry, music, and art. He suggests that contemplation is beyond all, and to enter its realm, one must die.

He builds higher still by further defining contemplation as a call from a voiceless God who has spoken all things into existence, especially us, and our echoing response to that call. Merton says we are both a question God asks and answers, implying two levels of awareness that culminate in the experience of "I AM." He explains that this is not some religious abstraction, but a "religious and transcendent gift" from God as the Scriptures teach of sonship, given by God as he awakens us to the fact that He dwells in us and we in Him (Gal 2.20).

Quaff:
I once taught a canned Bible study lesson that had C-O-N-F-E-S-S as its acrostic and 1 John 1.8-10 as its scripture reference. I try to tailor canned stuff to my audience and in order to do that I dwelt on the word confess. It is a word that loses it scriptural power when contemporary usage overlays it. In the contemporary sense, to confess is to admit to or to make known or to own up to. Often in our society it is done to confirm something dark after it has been uncovered. It is rarely voluntary.

Scripturally, however, I think it means something altogether different. The word confess in 1 John 8.9 is the Greek word homologeo, a compound word from homos (the same) and lego (to say). Literally it means "to say the same thing." Back in the day the word was used in contracts and covenants. To confess to God means more than a mere admission but a coming to terms. To confess to God means to agree with God when he says what he says about us and our sin. In order to come to this agreement, we must be drawn by a power outside ourselves. We don't have it in us to do this on our own. On our own, we will do whatever we can to justify ourselves and our actions.

Just as confess loses its meaning contemporarily, I believe contemplation does as well, if I'm reading Merton correctly. In our culture, contemplation is the opposite of transcendence. To contemplate is to meditate, and to meditate is to empty oneself of the external, turning inward for definition and validation. For me, that is the wrong direction entirely, for I know what a vile creature I can be. Thankfully, God awakened me to that realization, and I can say like David "Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment."

Query:
How can I focus on the transcendent when I hear the call to contemplate?

Notes on New Seeds of Contemplation Series

I don't pretend to be a Thomas Merton scholar, so I've jumped into New Seeds of Contemplation without much context. But the point of the series is not to become a Merton scholar, or even fan. The point is to explore the idea of contemplation during this season of Lent and to put into practice the call for reflection that the ashes from Wednesday night provided.

I realize that there will probably be points where I theologically disagree with Merton, however, I don't see dealing with those differences unless I just can't help it. My plan is to keep this devotional. Like when I eat ribs, I throw out the bones, but only after I've gnawed all the meat off them.

I also reserve the right to totally misunderstand Merton. Why should he have special privileges over everybody else?

I would also like to include some choice quotations from the book but that depends on whether I get permission to do so. Copyright stuff, you know...

If you are interested, here are some good Merton references:

• Abbey of Gethsemani
• The Thomas Merton Center
• Wikipedia
• The Monk Who Wouldn't Go Away, by Michael Spencer
• Serious About Merton?, by Michael Spencer

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

My exposure to the church calendar has been gradual.

I've been a church-goer for just over half my life. For most of that time I thought the church calendar consisted of Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July, Mother's Day, and Baptist Men's Day, and not necessarily in that order. Before I became a regular church-goer I don't remember ever going to church on Christmas, and Easter was just a reason for someone to give me a new polyester suit, stand me in front of their azaleas, take my photo, and then hide eggs and make me find them. Thankfully I grew out of that and came to know the real joy of Easter, and then a few years later one of my pastors introduced the idea of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday commemorations. I began to spend Christmases in church, and then in the year of our church sabbatical, I discovered Advent.

This year I add Lent to the list. Tonight, for the first time ever, I attended an Ash Wednesday service.

Pastor John shared from Joel 2.1-2, 12-17, Matthew 6.1-5, and Psalm 51. John challenged me to evaluate the state of my heart. Is it hard, covered with scar tissue from the hurts of the world, not allowing love to come in or to flow out? Is it broken by those who should have loved me well but have abandoned me? Is it fearful, asking the dreaded "what if" questions of life? Is it restless, searching for something more for fulfillment? He reminded me that the state of my heart is what matters to God, not the sacrifices I make or the good deeds I do. He challenged me, like Joel, to rend my heart and not my garment, putting my heart on the altar for Lent instead of simply setting aside some pleasure for a season as a token of tradition.

So what am I giving up for Lent? That's not really any of your business, but I will share with you that for the next forty days I plan to read and blog Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation.

I don't really consider myself a contemplative. I'm generally a quiet person and that sometimes evokes impressions like "still waters run deep," but I'm here to tell you, that ain't necessarily so. If I don't say much, it isn't because I can't think of anything to say as much as what I'm thinking isn't worth saying. It's not often that I'm pondering the great questions of the universe or evaluating the state of my heart. That's hard work and much too intimate. Better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid than to open it and prove that you are, right?

There are thirty-nine chapters in New Seeds of Contemplation. I plan to read one on each fast day of Lent and then post some thoughts and impressions. I'm hoping I haven't bitten off more than I can chew. We shall see. Since I've already told you how uncontemplative I am, I have no idea what form these posts will take. I expect they will evolve along with whatever contemplative skills I pick up along the way. I look forward to the attempt.

Super Bowl XLII

My regular readers (both of you) will remember that just after the NFC championship game I predicted a Giants victory in the Super Bowl. So in a spirit of humility, let me just say:


Carry on.

The Bishop of Rwanda

Bishop John Rucyahana spoke to our Bible study class this morning and then preached at morning worship.

Bishop John is bishop of the Shyira diocese of the Anglican church in Rwanda. He was instrumental in the spread of the Anglican Mission in the Americas beginning with his agreement to oversee one of the first AMiA churches in Little Rock, a decision that, as he puts it, "stirred up some dust."

I highly recommend his book, The Bishop of Rwanda: Finding Forgiveness Amidst a Pile of Bones. In it he tells the painful story of the Rwandan genocide in 1994 when over 1.1 million people were brutally murdered. He explains how external forces propagandized the Tutsi and Hutu ethnic groups into tribal differences that led to the massacre, and what steps are being taken to heal and restore Rwanda, which the bishop reports is the now the safest country in Africa.

One of Bishop Rucyahana's responsibilities is the Sonrise Orphans Ministry. There are between 400,000 and 600,000 orphans in Rwanda, many as result of the genocide. Two-thirds of the 900 or so students at Sonrise are orphans. The school provides them a home, hope for the future, and healing.

Someone asked the bishop a profound question during Q&A in Bible study: Is there any resentment towards Americans who come to Rwanda with material blessings but with seemingly (because of the recent crises in the Episcopal/Anglican communions) spiritual poverty? The bishop responded that given Rwanda's history of rejection in the world community, visits and touches mean more than even money to many Rwandans. I admit that I was only marginally aware of the genocide when it was happening, as I think most of the world can testify. That realization makes it all the more painful to contemplate recent developments in Darfur, and Burma, and now potentially in Kenya.

Bishop Rucyahana was gracious in signing my copy of his book. His signature makes this powerful volume all the more special to me.

Baby back?

Overheard today in Dreamland: Do you have baby back ribs?

Do these look like baby back ribs to you?



This ain't Memphis, son.

Sports Report: Super Bowl Prediction!

As January winds down I feel somewhat obligated to post on that greatest spectacle of sport, the crown jewel of competition, the arena of artistry, the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat: the Super Tuesday presidential primaries the Super Bowl.

I'm not much of an NFL fan but I did pay a modicum of interest to this season's playoffs, mainly because the Green Bay Packers had two home games - one in a blizzard and one in subzero temperatures.

I don't remember when or why I became a Packers fan. I guess it had something to do with the selection of authentic football uniforms available in the Sears catalog circa 1973. (This guy knows what I'm talking about.) My brother got the Dallas Cowboy uniform. I got the Packers. I'm sure my fandomness blossomed with knowledge that the Packer juggernaut was piloted by Bart Starr, Alabama born and bred, who taught the philistine cheeseheads what football was all about. Or whatever. It's just a blur, really.

My late grandmother bought me a Packers sweatshirt a few years ago and I wore it to Colorado for this year's Christmas vacation. It is thick and warm and comfortable and very green. It garnered a lot of attention at the airport in Texas because the Pack apparently stunk up a regular season game on the Sunday we traveled. I didn't know they were playing, much less who they were playing, but strange guys kept talking to me, saying things like You're coming back here for the playoffs, after today! and pointing at their NFL-logo'd caps like they were challenging me to a duel or something. In Denver, the pilot getting on the plane as we were exiting looked at me and said, They lost. Just like that. No Merry Christmas, Season's Greetings, or Happy Holidays. No We know you have a choice in air travel and we appreciate you choosing Southwest. Not even a Buh-bye. Just They lost. I didn't know how to respond, so I muttered an emphatic Crap! under my breath like I'd just lost my mortgage payment to the bookie working out of the storeroom of the diner out on the highway, and feigned enough sincerity to get me to the top of the jetway. It worked. Flyboy bought it hook, line, and sinker, just like the loser Dolphins fan that he probably is.

Even my uncle gave me the business out in the driveway before I got both feet out of the car. The Packers? he sneered. They played like crap today! He's a farmer and a Broncos fan so he knows crap when he sees it. I still didn't know who beat the Pack, but it was a heartbreaking loss, I gotta tell ya.

Anyway, after that humiliating defeat at the hands of _____________, I relegated the sweatshirt to the back of my closet, just like the loser Bears. Make a monkey outta me, huh? But still, we made the playoffs and beat _____________ in a blinding snowstorm before hosting the hapless Giants and their Peyton-wannabe quarterback Eli Manning in the third-coldest game in NFL history. The Giants' crappy kicker missed two field goals in the second half, the last one with four seconds left in the game. OT, baby! When the Pack won the coin toss I went to the closet to lay out my sweatshirt for work Monday, because there is no way Favre is going to lose the NFC championship game at home in overtime and -4 degrees, right? I mean, it's Lambeau and Lombardi and cheeseheads and Bikini Girls, Nitschke and Kramer, Lofton and Hornung! Favre is a southern boy gone up north to teach the Yankee horde about football, just like Bart Starr! If I'd still had my Packers helmet from Sears I would have crammed it down on my head, even if it snagged on my ears, just to block for ole number 4 from the warmth and safety of my living room. (I would not, however, don one of those cheesehead hats, because that is not dignified for a casual fan like myself.) But, alas, it was not to be! Favre threw an interception and a few plays later the crappy kicker for the Giants actually got one through the upright thingies, and just like that the sweatshirt went right back into the closet. Oh, the shame.

So the Super Bowl comes down to this:














I'm rooting for the Giants, for two reasons:
1. I root for underdogs (except when they play the Packers), and Eli Manning is an underdog to his brother Peyton. They have another brother but he's not in the NFL. If he was he'd probably be a loser Viking.
2. I root for underdogs (except when they play the Packers), and the Giants are underdogs to the 18-0 Patriots. The Red Sox won the World Series, so how much success does New England really deserve? Can you say Ted Kennedy? Mitt Romney? "Big Dig"? Even if they win and go 19-0, what's the big deal? Just ask Mercury Morris.

My prediction: Giants 30 (their crappy kicker misses all the extra points) - Patriots 28.

Go dogs.

One to One Hundred

(HT: jimCutlervoiceOvers)

Review: Inside Inside

For reasons that are meaningful only to me, I don't do new year's resolutions. I did plan to do two things (at one time) here in the new year that I haven't done before: read a Thomas Merton book, and blog about a book I'm reading.

I got sidetracked at the library, though, by a hefty volume on the New Arrivals rack: Inside Inside, by James Lipton.


James Lipton is the founder and former director of the Actor's Studio Drama School, and host of Bravo's Inside the Actor's Studio. I haven't had access to the Bravo network in several years, but when I did, Inside was one of my favorite shows.

This book is more about Lipton than about Inside, but in a sense Lipton is Inside, so that didn't bother me as much as it obviously bothered the reviewers at Amazon.com. But he's done much more than just his work with Actor's Studio. He wrote a novel and a literary work that has been in print for forty years, wrote two Broadway musicals, produced twelve Bob Hope specials and a Jimmy Carter inaugural concert, is a pilot and competitive horseman, was awarded a lifetime Emmy and France's Chevalier de l'ordre de Arts et des Lettres, was a pimp in a Parisian bordello (well, sort of; the nuance of the translation may have been lost on my sorry monolingual butt), and has the overwhelming admiration and respect of the arts and entertainment community. Except from maybe Barry Manilow and/or Bob Kerrey (read the book for that Inside inside joke).

The book clocks in at 492 pages and there isn't a lot of white space, let me tell you. Mr. Lipton doesn't interview actors from behind a stack of 500 blue notecards just because he has a cardboard fetish. He may have, for all I know, though he didn't feel it necessary to mention in the book. He did mentioned a bunch of other stuff, though, like how he almost crashed a plane in Alaska, got thrown off a horse, had a [Warning: NSFW] print of his naked wife published by George Plimpton in The Paris Review [I warned you], and listened to Bob Hope and Ronald Reagan exchange raunchy anecdotes in the Lincoln Bedroom after taping a dialog for one of the Hope specials, resulting in Secret Service confiscation and erasure of an 18 minute portion of the tape. Not the first time that's happened in the White House, huh? Come to think of it, it probably wasn't the first time raunchy anecdotes were exchanged in the Lincoln Bedroom either. Or the last.

But I digress. By now you must know that I am untrained in the art of the book review, so I take no shame in saying that this was a swell book. And in the spirit of Inside the Actor's Studio, I shall end with the infamous Bernard Pivot Questionnaire:

What is your favorite word? Papa
What is your least favorite word? Irregardless
What turns you on? The smell of roasting pork
What turns you off? Wastefulness
What sound or noise do you love? Sleet landing on fallen leaves
What sound or noise do you hate? A ringing telephone
What is your favorite curse word? Crap
What profession would you like to attempt? Professional book reviewer
What profession would you not like to attempt? Donald Trump's hairstylist
Finally, if heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Son, what had you so keyed up? Well, forget it, you have the rest of eternity to unwind.


Bravo, Mr. Lipton...

What is this white stuff in my rain gauge?

UPDATED: NWS Birmingham explains. Thanks!

Southern kids can't sled