Whoever has ears…

We set ourselves up for success in all areas of life when we understand the tremendous power that words have to bring both joy and sorrow.  Unfortunately many of us don’t put nearly as much thought into the equal power that resides in the flip side of speech: listening.  Even as carelessness with our tongues can cause pain and offend so too can carelessness with listening.  We of course expect people to speak with precision, grace, and humility but often neglect to listen with these same characteristics.  This is especially true when it comes to how we listen to public figures.  Instead of hearing people out many of us often decide within a span of a few seconds whether a speaker is to be applauded or condemned.

 

I was struck by a story I heard on the radio the other day that drives this point home.   The story regards some comments UFC light heavyweight champion Jon “Bones” Jones made about his colleague Anderson Silva who had just lost his middleweight title in a fight.  Jones said, “He just got disrespectful [towards his opponent] and the war gods made him pay for it”.  These seemingly innocuous comments were followed up in short order by a tweet by Jones (@JohnnyBones) that attempted to clarify:  “[I] Didn’t mean to say ‘War Gods’ I was meaning Karma”.

 

I cannot be sure why some of Jones’ audience found the phrase “war gods” offensive but given Jones’ need to clarify we can only conclude that at least one person did.  This case is made even more confusing when we consider that the difference between “war gods” and “karma” in popular use is virtually non-existant.  Athletes and sports journalists consistently refer to the hockey, football, and insertsportsnamehere gods as a way to explain in shorthand that in sports “what comes around goes around”.  In short the term “sportsgods” is synonymous with “karma”.

 

What is troubling about this story is the high likelihood that the offended parties could have been able to avoid taking offence had they put in the minimal effort to understand that Jones was simply trying to say “what comes around goes around”.  The fact that this effort was not put in made me wonder about why we as human beings take offence to things people say.  I think that the answer often has to do more with our failure to listen well than it does with the speaker’s failure to communicate appropriately.  

 

Now to be fair sometimes this is not the case.  Such as when, well…a speaker says something that is offensive.  For instance I think it is perfectly appropriate to be offended when a speaker uses slurs or insults of any kind that disrespect other human beings.  But other times, if we stop and think about it, we will discover that we sometimes do get worked up over an issue like that of the war gods and karma.

 

I think this has to do with the fact that when we hear someone speak we hear them through a filter that includes our worldview, our values, the mood we happen to be in, and our current ability to concentrate.  When we listen, especially to public commentary, we tend to listen for buzz words or particular phrases that indicate to us whether or not the speaker agrees with (or at least respects) our basic worldview and values.  If we hear something that at first blush defies or contradicts one or both of these things we tend to immediately get angry and/or get offended.  What I wish we could do instead is insert a pause or breath between the act of hearing and the act of taking offence.   In this pause I would like for us to afford the same attributes in our listening that we expect of our speaker:  let’s be precise (figure out what they are really trying to say), be gracious (give them the benefit of the doubt), and let’s be humble (open to the idea that we heard them wrong).  If we embody these virtues we may just find that the world will start to sound like a less offensive place and maybe—just maybe—we will finally start to truly hear each other well.

 

An ever expanding vocabulary

It’s amazing how learning a simple word or two can drastically change your experience of life.  I’m sure at some point or another we have been around a child who has learned to speak the word “no”.  Soon every encounter or exchange is coloured by this word as the child learns, by practice, what the word means and when they can and cannot use it.  By the end of this stage parents and loved ones are at their wits end and the child’s world is forever changed by his or her knowledge of a simple two-letter word.

From there the child rapidly absorbs countless words with each new word adding to the child’s ability to understand and articulate their experience of the world around them.  As adults the speed at which we learn new words slows to such a slow trickle that when a new word (or words) comes our way that significantly impacts our life experience, we can distinctly remember the time and place where we learned it.  Many of us remember, for example, that fateful day more than ten years ago where we first heard the words “Al Qaeda” and when we heard the word pair “nine eleven” in a whole new context that would alter Western Civilization as we know it.

Yesterday I had one of these experiences where I learned two new words that have changed my experience of life:  “Wegener’s Granulomatosis”.

Wegener’s Granulomatosis is a rare auto-immune disease in which the immune system attacks medium and small blood vessels in the body.  The primary areas that are affected are the lungs and kidneys and chronic renal failure is one of the potential outcomes of the disease.  Wegener’s Granulomatosis can be fatal, it is incurable, and it is treated by suppressing the immune system with some pretty heavy duty and toxic drugs.  The disease is notoriously hard to diagnose, is quite rare, and it typically hits white men in midlife.

This word was painfully added to my vocabulary when I received a phone call in which I was told that my beloved Uncle Tim has been diagnosed with it and is currently fighting for his life in the hospital.

Wegener’s Granulomatosis.  It is bizzare that these two words that meant nothing to me 48 hours ago now make my heart ache and the room spin as I type them out in this blog.  Just like the child who interprets everything through the lens of his or her newly discovered knowledge of the word “no”, Wegener’s Granulomatosis has become the lens through which my day is experienced:  it provides a heaviness that cannot quite be escaped and it impacts my ability to focus on any one particular task for a long stretch of time.  My life was simpler and it was a whole lot better before I knew these words.  Yet even in the midst of my own troubles I know that my experience pales in comparison to the way the words Wegener’s Granulomatosis have impacted my uncle’s immediate family:  his wife, two young adult girls, and his father and mother.

What I also know however is that seeing all of life through the lens of one or two words is a passing phase.  Even as the child adds words to his or her vocabulary and does not remain in the “no stage”, so too will my uncle’s family and I emerge from this experience with a more complete vocabulary.  New words like “immunosuppression” –the treatment strategy for WG—are already being added to the family lexicon.  As a family we will also learn that old, familiar words have more depth to them then we could ever imagine.   Words like trust, hope, life, perseverance, battle, prayer, family, love, and thankfulness are already starting to take on new levels of meaning in my own imagination.  This list of words reminds me that life cannot be defined by one or two words alone—even words as big and as scary as Wegener’s Granulomatosis.

I know that my uncle’s life has been forever changed by these two words.  No amount of wishing or praying can every bring him, me, or his family to that place where those words were not a part of our vocabulary.  My prayer and hope however is that we will soon get to that place where his life is not defined solely by them.  I know that in his journey with this illness that his God is with him, that his wife and girls are with him, and that the rest of his relatives like me are with him and that we will all do whatever we can to allow him to experience life faith, hope, joy, and love even in the midst of his illness.  My prayer is that these words will continue to define him far more than Wegener’s Granulomatosis ever will.  Get well soon Uncle Tim.  Our prayers are with you.

In memory of “the master” of hospitality: A Tribute to my Grandma

Image

Love and hospitality.  These are the two virtues that lie at the heart of the Christian faith.  The benefits and importance of love are immediately obvious to us but hospitality?  Why is this virtue so important in the life of faith?

The human heart has some basic needs:  the need to feel loved, the need to belong, the need to feel safe, and the need to know that someone is in our corner—that is to say we need to have an advocate.  Offering hospitality meets each of these needs.  When we bring someone into our home what we are saying is welcome, come and eat with me, you belong to me, and I will watch out for you and protect you for as long as you are under my roof.  Hospitality fills the holes of the human heart.

Image

A classic scene of Grandma’s hospitality

You may have picked up on the theme of hospitality that runs right through the 23rd Psalm, the ancient poem that we began our service with.  In that poem we see that God supplies perfect hospitality.  We see the theme of welcome and safety:  “you have prepared a table before me…”, we see advocacy:  “even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for you are with me”, and we see belonging/feeling at home “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever and ever”.  This is a story of God’s hospitality.  And we see this story repeated over and over again in the scriptures; it is the story of a God who is aware that the human heart is not complete and so time and time again he offers his hospitality and says:  come with me my beloved child, you belong to me, I will never leave you, I am always on your side.

The story of God’s hospitality is incredibly comforting to us especially when times are tough, when life seems bleak, and when our sorrow is overwhelming.  Part of the reason why it is so comforting is because we are told that it is bigger and more powerful than death.  The great hope of faith is that God’s care for us is so great and our lives so sacred that he is not content to simply let us die.  Rather God invites us to experience everlasting life as guests at his table.

Image

One of Grandma’s banqueting tables with her husband Keith

See the Biblical image of heaven is not one of clouds and harps but rather is of a great banquet to which all are invited.  God’s gift to humanity is to offer them a place where the food and drink are never in short supply; it is the everlasting table that we can keep coming back to time and time again.  Heaven is the ultimate act of God’s hospitality.  I love this image because it brings so much comfort when we think about Grandma.  I can’t think of anything more fulfilling to our dearly departed then the idea of being a part of a never ending feast where she belongs, where she feels safe, and where she is loved.

I share the image of hospitality this afternoon not only to provide comfort to us in the midst of our grief that Grandma is in a place of rest and comfort but also to bring tribute to the amazing woman she was.  You see Grandma understood the great truth about hospitality.  She knew that practicing this virtue transforms people as they experience what it means to belong and be loved.

Image

Two recipients of Grandma’s hospitality: me and my wife Whitney

I know that she knew this because I was a recipient of her transformative hospitality in the summer of 2008—the same summer Whitney and I got married—when I was working for Kirkbride Painting, the company that was hired to paint the exterior of each house in “The Terraces”. Grandma opened her house for me every working day for my lunch break.  When I walked in the door the kettle would be on and a pot of earl grey tea would be made.  I would often eat my lunch plus some of the contents of her fridge, and she would eat a raw onion sandwich with a heavy dose of salt and pepper.  When I look back on that summer I realize that something incredible happened over the course of those several months.   It was then that “Fran” became my “Grandma”.  All of us who have had the privilege of having wonderful grandmothers will know that beyond the designations “mom” and “dad” there is no title as revered as “grandma”.  “Grandma” denotes a strong sense of closeness.  “Grandma” signifies a deep belonging.  “Grandma” means you are loved.   “Grandma” means there is always someone in your corner.  When Fran became “Grandma” I knew that I had gained an advocate.  Someone that I knew cherished me, respected me, and loved me.  Since that time I’ve always felt like I was a part of the family.

Had we the time we could hear similar stories from everybody here about how they experienced the transformative power of hospitality in their relationship with Grandma.  Her kindness, generosity, and willingness to always open her door to visitors has left us all changed for the better.  My hope for all of us is that as we go from here we will remember this and that we will honour this by carrying her legacy forward by becoming people who practice the art of hospitality.  My hope also is that all of us will be comforted by the hope that Grandma is a cherished guest now at God’s banquet table.

Of Mennonites and Powell River

One of life’s most wonderful experiences is enjoying two things that fit perfectly together like romance and a sunset, popcorn and a movie, or a favourite of my wife and I:  summer heat and the Shuswap.  Another one of these perfect combinations is Powell River and MCC (Mennonite Central Committee).

Powell River is my hometown located on the beautiful sunshine coast.  I do not make it over there as often as I would like but the place has a huge piece of my heart—even though I only lived there for the first six years of my life.  The beauty of the town is captivating to me and if any of you have ever watched the sun set in Powell River or spent long summer days at Palm Beach you will know what I am talking about.  Natural beauty aside, the primary reasons why the town of 15,000 remains so dear to me are because it was the place where my brothers, my mother, and I were born and it is the place where my maternal grandparents and many other relatives continue to live.

Even as Powell River holds a piece of my heart, so too does MCC.  The MCC is an international organization involved in many wonderful projects around the world which aim to help the world’s most marginalized people in a sustainable and environmentally responsible way (you can read about some of those projects in a previous blog or on MCC’s website).  My connection to the MCC comes through both my family background and through my personal experience.  My grandmother comes from a Mennonite ethnic background; she was raised in the small town of Yarrow located in the Fraser Valley.  Several of her siblings have volunteered at MCC stores in Vancouver—an opportunity not afforded to her as she has lived almost her entire adult life in Powell River.  As a Mennonite pastor I am very proud of my family’s heritage and I also delight in the obvious benefits of having a Mennonite background—rollkuchen anyone?  My personal connection to MCC is through the two summers I spent working in their thrift shops.  My time in those stores not only gave me the opportunity to learn about what MCC is doing to reach the vulnerable but also gave me an amazing experience of community which has shaped who I am as a pastor today.

Image

My love for MCC and Powell River therefore has me incredibly excited about tomorrow.  Tomorrow the MCC thrift store will be having its grand opening in Powell River and I have the privilege of travelling there for the day to participate in the grand opening.  Now you must understand that an MCC store opening in Powell River is an incredibly unlikely event for one very obvious reason:  there are virtually no Mennonites in Powell River.  The town does not have a single Mennonite church and although you can find the odd Mennonite last name in the phonebook no one will ever confuse Powell River with Abbotsford, Chilliwack, or Winkler. Nevertheless I am confident that this new store will thrive.  The people of Powell River know a good thing when they see it.  The MCC will offer them a chance to buy items otherwise headed for the landfill and in the process their purchase will be a gift for the world.  This is exactly the type of the thing that a community striving for local and global sustainability will latch on to.  I am also excited that my family gets the opportunity to support MCC first hand.  My grandmother will be helping out in the book department and my aunt will be sitting on the board of directors.  It brings a smile to my face to know that sometimes the most unlikeliest of combinations can go together even one as unlikely as Powell River and MCC.

Steven Harper the Irrational Evangelical?

At the beginning of last week, Globe and Mail columnist Lawrence Martin wrote a column on Prime Minister Steven Harper which says that his “muzzling of the science community, its [sic] low regard for statistics, its [sic] hard line against environmentalists” has its origins in his Evangelical faith.  For Martin this is the most logical conclusion because no rational person would have such views, and with the exception of his faith, Harper appears to be a “clear-headed rationalist”.  Martin bases his claim in Harper’s membership in the Christian Missionary Alliance Church, a church which according to Martin, “believes the free market is divinely inspired and views science and environmentalism with what might be called scorn”

There are some pretty serious problems with Martin’s analysis. For starters, Martin’s dichotomy of evangelicalism and rationalism is a false one.  Sadly there is a tradition of anti-intellectualism that is prevalent in some Evangelical circles; however the movement also has a strong tradition of developing some very bright academics.  Judging the movement as anti-intellectual would be like judging atheism as communist or Islam as a religion of terrorism.  Such judgments are horribly inaccurate and ignore the overwhelming evidence which does not fit the thesis.

Also problematic is Martin’s belief that Harper’s convictions stem from his membership in the Missionary Alliance church.  This is a problem because it is commonly known that Harper is not a very dedicated churchperson—especially when compared to the former leaders of his party Stockwell Day and Preston Manning.  If Harper is a nominal churchman it seems likely that his policies are also nominally influenced by his church.  Preston Manning on the other hand was and is a highly active member of the Alliance church so certainly we should see even stronger examples in his policies of revering the free market and rampantly abusing the environment right?

 Well, not so fast.  You see Mr. Manning is a very bright, rationalistic individual who is also devoted to conservation.  That is right, Preston Manning is an evangelical who cares about the environment.  In a 2006 interview with a Saskatoon newspaper, Manning talked about how economic conservatism could be linked to ecological conservatism.  One idea he advocated for there was charging companies in the oil sands for the water that they use.  He suggested that doing so would promote conservation since the companies would be motivated to be waste less of a product they were being charged for.  This may not be the type of environmentalism advocated for by the Suzuki-ilk but it certainly does show creativity, a commitment to the environment, and something which falls far short of worshiping the free market.  The clincher, for Manning, is that he has recently been hired by the evangelical school Regent College to work in their Marketplace Institute which is dedicated to developing “new approaches to the intersection of faith with democratic governance, the market economy, pluralism and multiculturalism, science and technology, and environmental stewardship.”

Manning’s decision to work in an evangelical school which is deeply devoted to care for the environment suggests that it is not a mere coincidence that Manning is both an evangelical and a conservationist.  Manning is not an intelligent, conservationist despite his faith but rather sees both of these things as being a critical component of faith.

Martin certainly has the right to question the wisdom of Harper’s moves.  It is however, unfair to try and draw a link between his policies and his faith—especially given a lack of evidence.  Feel free, Mr. Martin to call Harper what you will but please do not suggest that his apparent scorn of science and the environment and his conservative economic policies are rooted in the teachings of Evangelicals.  The reality is that Evangelicalism is much more diverse than all of that.  Some of us Evangelicals love science, work diligently to protect the environment, and God-bless us some of us can even be found left of centre in the realm of politics.

The ‘Real’ Vancouver?

24 hours ago the city of Vancouver looked like a warzone.  Today post-mortems abound which try to explain the senseless violence of yesterday night.  One common narrative being told today is that the events of last night were perpetrated by a small group of anarchists and not “true” fans and therefore do not represent the “real” Vancouver. 

To me it seems quite clear that what lies beneath this interpretation of the events is a desire on the part of proud Vancouverites and/or Canucks fans to differentiate themselves from the rioters—“that’s not what our city is really like” the story goes.  I certainly sympathize with this sentiment; after all as a resident of Greater Vancouver I abhor the thought that today the impression lingering in the minds of many North Americans about our fair-city more closely resembles the apocalypse rather than a West-coast utopia.  The feelings of Canucks fans who don’t want to be lumped together with their drunker, violent, counter-parts is also quite understandable—after all the majority of fans simply went home last night—dejected and disappointed yes but certainly not violent and wrathful.

That being said it remains at best misleading and worst dangerous to conclude that the events of last night do not reflect that actions of real fans or real Vancouverites.  The only criterion I can see by which we can judge what makes a Vancouverite authentic is where they live and likewise the only standard by which a fan can be judged is by their vested emotional interest in the team.  Sadly this means that the actions of last night were in fact perpetrated by real, Vancouverite, Canucks fans.  The video on TV and the photos in the Newspaper did not show a group of balaclava-wearing, anarchists (though it seems there were likely some) but rather a group of rather normal-looking, jersey-wearing, hockey fans.  The rioters were more related to the soccer hooligans of Europe who work their 9-5 in the day and trample and fight other fans at night than to the G20 or Olympic protestors.  I think this is something we need to come to terms with as Vancouverites before the problem can be adequately addressed.  It’s easy to blame the seedy underbelly—it’s much harder to blame your co-workers, friends, or children…

I also believe that there is danger in speaking of the rioters as a small group.  To be sure the group represented a fraction of the fans who amassed downtown to watch their beloved team fight for the Cup; however the group was not mere dozens but rather likely hundreds in terms of actual participants—and the number is in the thousands of those who were complicit in the acts by hanging around snapping pictures, cheering the looters on, and otherwise disrupting/preventing the police from doing their job.

So what does this all mean?  Well I’d like to suggest that the real Vancouver is a place where this happens:

Canadians show their pride

And this:

Vancouver Riots

And this:

Vancouverites apologize

The real Vancouver is comprised of mostly respectful, decent people who are proud of their city.  However the real Vancouver also has a group of people who set cars on fire, loot stores, and antagonize the police as well as a significantly sized group which gets their entertainment from watching the rioters engage in those actions even if they do not participate themselves.

So what do we do?  I think our instinct to differentiate ourselves from the rioters is a good one.  We need to show that they are a minority and that most Vancouverites are peaceful and kind—the clean-up downtown project was probably the best way to start this process.  However we need to be careful not to differentiate ourselves too much.  We need to recognize that these people are a part of our society and our city—they are not some faceless “other”.  These are people who share our city and love the same sport that we do.  If we recognize this factor we will realize that the problem is not a matter of determining authenticity but rather is a problem within our society itself.  We need to realize that there are far too many people in our city who see violence and destruction as a form of entertainment.  Let’s own that problem and not deflect it.  That’s what the real Vancouver would do!

Easter Sunday:

An appropriate poem to meditate on this Easter:

Death be not proud, though some have callèd thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better than thy stroake; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.

–John Donne

Derrida’s Profundity

Due to the intense demands of this semester I’ve been absent from this blog for a little too long.  With the end of the semester drawing nigh however, I do plan to return to blogging in the space much more frequently in the near future.

For the last little why I’ve been making my way through Jacques Derrida’s perplexing and brilliant Of Grammatology.  While the journey through this work has at times been so frustrating that the prospect of watching Rebbeca Black’s Friday on loop seems like a more edifying way to spend my time, there have also been a surprisingly great deal of moments of profundity in my reading as well…

In the future I hope to blog a little bit more about Derrida and Of Grammatology in particular.  For now I leave you with this quote in which Derrida both summarizes and reflects on the work of Rousseau…

In the experience of suffering as the suffering of the other, the imagination, as it opens us to a certain nonpresence within presence, is indispensable:  the suffering of others is lived by comparison as our nonpresent, past, or future suffering.  Pity [i..e. compassion] would be impossible outside of this structure, which links imagination, time, and the other as one and the same opening into nonpresence:  [Rousseau:] “To pity another’s woes we must indeed know them, but we need not feel them.  When we have suffered, when we are in fear of suffering, we pity those who suffer; but when we suffer ourselves, we pity none but ourselves”

Emergent Church Article

The good folks at Direction have posted the article co-authored by yours truly and Nick Toews  on their website.  This article is an assessment of what we see as the good qualities and deficiencies of the Emergent Church movement which includes such notable characters as Brian McLaren and Tony Jones.  The article was completed around a year ago and is the first work I have had published.  You can find said article by clicking here.

I cannot help but think that the decline of attention paid to the Emergent movement in church circles today makes our thesis even more valid now than it was a year ago…

Enjoy!