You might have noticed that I have not been blogging lately. There have been several major projects on my plate, some of which I will blog about later, that have taken up considerable amounts of my time and energy. One of those major projects is the successful move and unpacking of a two-bedroom apartment unit. This move is the equivalent to downsizing from a 4 compartment purse to a one compartment purse. I am, to be honest, in over my head. I have too much stuff. I walk around in a labyrinth built by boxes and oversized furniture that I don't know what to do with. I am very tempted to do what this guy and a million over people are trying to do, but I don't think that there is anything in the universe that could possibly help me reduce down to 100.
So, here's what I have to say, and George Carlin said it all already.
July 16, 2008
June 28, 2008
I'm a haiku snob
Several days ago, The Boss attended a week-long conference in Atlanta where he stayed in a hotel that professes the use of haikus as the anchor for their communications and advertising, "the math behind their voice". The hotel has strategically placed haikus everywhere, from hotel lobby to bathrooms, in its multiple locations throughout the U.S. The Boss called one day and in the midst of our daily check-in ritual, he read a haiku about hotel room towels. The chain even has a web-page allowing visitors to their website to create their own haikus. You pick the season (summer, winter, etc), one element (earth, wind, etc), and the mood (joyful, relaxed, etc). The website will then spit out a haiku related to the hotel that you can enjoy or forward to a friend.
The Boss calls me a haiku snob because I laughed in what he deemed "a dismissive manner" at the haikus that the hotel presented. I gladly accept that term. Haiku snob. First of all, I won't presume to know everything there is to know about haikus -- in fact, I know less about haiku the more I study them. I won't presume that just because I can count 5-7-5 syllables in a triplet means that I can write a haiku. I certainly won't presume that I know enough about the haiku to consider it "the anchor" for my communications. There are certain things we often easily underestimate and one of them is the complexity of the haiku form.
That is not to say that the haiku masters (Issa, Basho, Buson, etc) didn't write playful haikus -- many of them were generated in that exact same spirit (remember the one of the horse pissing in the snow?) -- but they did much more than count syllables in each line.
I went onto the hotel's website and found this poem:
I know ours is not the world that Issa or Buson inhabited. It has changed so much that we are forced to reinterpret and create the haiku in such different ways. However, I still can't justify writing a haiku about things like towels air-conditioned rooms. I'm not a haiku snob so much as a haiku novice. There is much, much more to the poem. That's because sometimes it reaches Nothingness.
The Boss calls me a haiku snob because I laughed in what he deemed "a dismissive manner" at the haikus that the hotel presented. I gladly accept that term. Haiku snob. First of all, I won't presume to know everything there is to know about haikus -- in fact, I know less about haiku the more I study them. I won't presume that just because I can count 5-7-5 syllables in a triplet means that I can write a haiku. I certainly won't presume that I know enough about the haiku to consider it "the anchor" for my communications. There are certain things we often easily underestimate and one of them is the complexity of the haiku form.
That is not to say that the haiku masters (Issa, Basho, Buson, etc) didn't write playful haikus -- many of them were generated in that exact same spirit (remember the one of the horse pissing in the snow?) -- but they did much more than count syllables in each line.
I went onto the hotel's website and found this poem:
from humid summer
to room of wintry wonder.
air-conditioned joy
I know ours is not the world that Issa or Buson inhabited. It has changed so much that we are forced to reinterpret and create the haiku in such different ways. However, I still can't justify writing a haiku about things like towels air-conditioned rooms. I'm not a haiku snob so much as a haiku novice. There is much, much more to the poem. That's because sometimes it reaches Nothingness.
June 27, 2008
Nho
Mua he nam nay, minh nho den nhung chiec non la che nang o ngoai duong, nho den nhung quan cafe, quan che giai khat, va nho den nhung buoi chieu ngoi ben bo song o duoi anh nang nong... chay mo!
God bless you with discomfort...
Congratulations to Dr.MAT who, as of last Saturday, was officially commissioned to probationary Elder status in the UMC. Ordination to full elder status will be achieved in about two years. In lay terms, an Elder in the UMC is basically the highest clergy rank that you can achieve. (This is aside from other ecclesiastical positions in the Church.) There are, to be imprecise, about 6,975 steps to getting ordained as a United Methodist. (Since working at The Seminary, I've learned there are just as many steps to getting ordained in the Episcopal church. No surprise there.)
Whatever my feelings are about the state of the church and the condition of our faith communities, I know that it is one thing to be critical and another to be ordained -- it is not a Calling to take lightly. It takes more than just a feeling of being "strangely warmed" (a la John Wesley) to be a fit priest/minister/pastor.
There are many, many ordinands who get stuck in the bureaucratic loop and never get ordained. This is a tragedy for the church. We too often become mired in protocols and procedures and forget the important questions. Bound by our Book of Discipline, by our canons and our constitutions, we often lose sight of the answers and questions that are really important to us. The Boss once relayed to me three questions that he heard/acquired from someone/somewhere else (there's a story here that I've forgotten, but I vaguely remember the questions).
Do you love God?
Do you love me?
Do you love God enough to carry out God's mission?
The third question may be something I just made up, but I know the first two are correct. But if they are not the original questions, they ought to be. Love God. Love our neighbors. Do God's work (e.g. seek love, peace, and justice for all). If we love God too much and don't love our neighbors enough, we cannot carry out The Great Commission. If we love our neighbors only, there is nowhere to go and nowhere to begin.
Somewhere in my memory is the story of when my parents first arrived in the U.S. to begin parish ministry. While we were waiting for my father's first appointment at a local church in southern CA, the congregation where we first visited in San Francisco refused to help our family. Not one member would assist us in the short week that we stayed in the Bay Area awaiting our flight down to southern CA. My parents were not fluent in English and when they asked for assistance with translation, they were refused. One member (who later became ordained in the Vietnamese Southern Baptist church -- ironic isn't it) told them they would eventually have to figure it out anyway so why ask for assistance. Their refusal to help, their coldness, makes me question whether it is/was worth the time, energy, and heart.
When I think of these histories, and remember these people who profess One Great Faith, they are ugly. These stories and experiences leave bitterness in my mouth, and my eyes blur with anger and frustration and sadness. I feel heartsick for my parents back then -- a young immigrant couple in their 30s with three young kids, all eager to start fresh in "the fields of the Lord." I recall these "Christian folks" and I feel sadness, anger, even hate. I wonder how it is that we could have ministered in their presence, and I wonder how my parents could have loved them enough to worship with them.
I remember other stories. Bitter stories. I remember the time that a particular white congregation asked our Vietnamese mission to leave the sanctuary of the church we were renting because it cost too much money to pay for electricity when our small group worshiped in the sanctuary. One of our congregants cried as he left the place of worship. That sanctuary was no longer a sanctuary, not holy, not filled with the spirit of God. When I recall that incident, I wonder, how could we have ministered in that place? How could we have been called to worship together with those people who cared more about electricity bills?
As my mind now envisions the group of us filing out of the sanctuary, I want to ask the pastor of that church back in that little city, Do you love God? Do you love us? Do you love God enough to let us worship in that space?
I remember a colleague of my parents who once questioned why they were so insistent on allowing their daughter to enter into ordained ministry. Underlying that question was the puzzlement over the appropriateness of allowing a woman to be ordained. My parents never wavered. They never doubted. Love God; love others; do God's work. What does it matter whether you are man or woman?
Dr.MAT faces big challenges ahead. The Spirit does not always lead us to safe waters. Sometimes we are challenged to big things, difficult missions. Love God? That's easy. Love others. That's the hard one. Even harder when I can see those faces that I find especially difficult to love. (You, you, you, and yes, you.)
Perhaps the motivation I need is not something I can drum up with my own willpower. It is something I am unable to change. This is where the work of the Spirit comes in.
Love God. That, I can do.
Love others. That, the Spirit can help me do.
Do God's work. That, we must do together.
Congratulations to the Rev.Dr.MAT.
Whatever my feelings are about the state of the church and the condition of our faith communities, I know that it is one thing to be critical and another to be ordained -- it is not a Calling to take lightly. It takes more than just a feeling of being "strangely warmed" (a la John Wesley) to be a fit priest/minister/pastor.
There are many, many ordinands who get stuck in the bureaucratic loop and never get ordained. This is a tragedy for the church. We too often become mired in protocols and procedures and forget the important questions. Bound by our Book of Discipline, by our canons and our constitutions, we often lose sight of the answers and questions that are really important to us. The Boss once relayed to me three questions that he heard/acquired from someone/somewhere else (there's a story here that I've forgotten, but I vaguely remember the questions).
Do you love God?
Do you love me?
Do you love God enough to carry out God's mission?
The third question may be something I just made up, but I know the first two are correct. But if they are not the original questions, they ought to be. Love God. Love our neighbors. Do God's work (e.g. seek love, peace, and justice for all). If we love God too much and don't love our neighbors enough, we cannot carry out The Great Commission. If we love our neighbors only, there is nowhere to go and nowhere to begin.
Somewhere in my memory is the story of when my parents first arrived in the U.S. to begin parish ministry. While we were waiting for my father's first appointment at a local church in southern CA, the congregation where we first visited in San Francisco refused to help our family. Not one member would assist us in the short week that we stayed in the Bay Area awaiting our flight down to southern CA. My parents were not fluent in English and when they asked for assistance with translation, they were refused. One member (who later became ordained in the Vietnamese Southern Baptist church -- ironic isn't it) told them they would eventually have to figure it out anyway so why ask for assistance. Their refusal to help, their coldness, makes me question whether it is/was worth the time, energy, and heart.
When I think of these histories, and remember these people who profess One Great Faith, they are ugly. These stories and experiences leave bitterness in my mouth, and my eyes blur with anger and frustration and sadness. I feel heartsick for my parents back then -- a young immigrant couple in their 30s with three young kids, all eager to start fresh in "the fields of the Lord." I recall these "Christian folks" and I feel sadness, anger, even hate. I wonder how it is that we could have ministered in their presence, and I wonder how my parents could have loved them enough to worship with them.
I remember other stories. Bitter stories. I remember the time that a particular white congregation asked our Vietnamese mission to leave the sanctuary of the church we were renting because it cost too much money to pay for electricity when our small group worshiped in the sanctuary. One of our congregants cried as he left the place of worship. That sanctuary was no longer a sanctuary, not holy, not filled with the spirit of God. When I recall that incident, I wonder, how could we have ministered in that place? How could we have been called to worship together with those people who cared more about electricity bills?
As my mind now envisions the group of us filing out of the sanctuary, I want to ask the pastor of that church back in that little city, Do you love God? Do you love us? Do you love God enough to let us worship in that space?
I remember a colleague of my parents who once questioned why they were so insistent on allowing their daughter to enter into ordained ministry. Underlying that question was the puzzlement over the appropriateness of allowing a woman to be ordained. My parents never wavered. They never doubted. Love God; love others; do God's work. What does it matter whether you are man or woman?
Dr.MAT faces big challenges ahead. The Spirit does not always lead us to safe waters. Sometimes we are challenged to big things, difficult missions. Love God? That's easy. Love others. That's the hard one. Even harder when I can see those faces that I find especially difficult to love. (You, you, you, and yes, you.)
Perhaps the motivation I need is not something I can drum up with my own willpower. It is something I am unable to change. This is where the work of the Spirit comes in.
Love God. That, I can do.
Love others. That, the Spirit can help me do.
Do God's work. That, we must do together.
Congratulations to the Rev.Dr.MAT.
May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart. Amen.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace. Amen.
May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. Amen.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done. Amen.
- Franciscan prayer
June 25, 2008
Mongol: Temudjin before Genghis Khan
Last night, we went to see Sergei Bodrov's epic film, Mongol.
No matter what we've read in history books about Genghis Khan of the Great Steppe, this film presents to us a "multidimensional portrait" of Temudgin, the little boy whose courage, strength, and passion were unabated by the difficulties that shaped him into the fearless, unrelenting Khan. I appreciated the director's creativity in presenting a richer, more complex narrative about this man. The film lifts up the deep complexity embroidering human lives and human narratives, and I am reminded of often I am led to simply believe the image of the "evil brute of hoary stereotype." Bodrov's film reminds us all, I hope, that in the snapshot of the evil, fear-inspiring killer who ravaged kingdoms, there is also room for a visionary leader, for a loving, extraordinary man.
The movie was beautifully created, with sweeping cinematography and spare dialogue that highlighted -- instead of eclipsing -- the progression of the narrative. The actors masterfully presented the depths and hollows of their characters, from each movement of the hand to the watchful gaze of the eyes. I was impressed by how much we could deduce from the easy glint in eyes seen through unbraided hair.
The landscapes of the shooting locations were stunning. The music was also special -- most noteworthy were the sections contributed by Altan Urag, the folk-rock band. The love theme made you sense immediately in your guts of that deep, abiding love unphased and unfaded by time which we all aspire to. I would love to get the score to this film.
Actors of note were Odnyam Odsuren who played Young Temudjin, Tadanobu Asano as Temudjin, and Khulan Chuluun as Borte. Borte represented the kind of beautiful, strong woman who takes and makes her own destiny. She is the first to greet Temudjin when they first meet and she chose him as her husband long before he even thought of her as his bride. She takes matters into her own hands and frees herself from her captor, and is unafraid of taking risks to free her husband from his cage. She stands her ground and faces armed guards without flinching. She shows compassion, foresight, clear-headedness, and patience. Borte is, as we see her in this film, the quintessential woman.
One concern that I have about this movie is the length. Historical epic that it is, the film dragged a little at the end and I grew weary of waiting for the "conclusion" to Bodrov's segment of this narrative. Or, perhaps I already knew of Temudjin's end and did not want to see further...
Regardless, I recommend that you go see it. Now.
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