Grateful for the Blessings of Liberty!

Happy 4th of July to everyone!

And... special greetings and blessings to those of you fortunate enough to be born on this important and historical day.

However you celebrate today, I encourage you to pause, reflect and be grateful for (as Michael Medved puts it daily) "This, the greatest country on God's green earth."

It is our tradition, here at the Randall homestead, to read the Declaration of Independence each year on this date. Its primary author, Thomas Jefferson, certainly exhibited great wisdom, passion and courage in penning this incredible document.

May all the blessings of liberty abound to you and yours this special day!

For more on this subject, you might want to visit the site of a fellow blogger, Bryan Burton: http://christisvictorious.typepad.com

Peace Vertical, Peace Horizontal

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. (Romans 5:1)

Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone. (Romans 12:18)

Back when I was a young peace activist I did not have peace with God, myself or with the great majority of my fellow human beings. True peace was not possible until I accepted the Terms of Peace offered me by God. Once hostilities ceased on that front, a pacification operation was begun in my heart and mind that continues to this day. Once I was an angry pacifist, now I am becoming a peaceful warrior.

I have become convinced that this peace with God--this peace which only the death of Jesus Christ could secure--is an absolute prerequisite in order for us to truly be at peace with one another. The new pacifism I now practice requires much much more from me than marching or petitioning or pontificating. It requires a surrendering, a laying down of all arms of every sort--even, perhaps especially, of loaded words.

Lord, thank you for the peace you have brought to my life. Thank you for sending your son to die so things would be set right between us. Father, you know I have far to go on the road of peace and much more to learn. Show me more the way of Christ so I can love even my enemies as Jesus taught.

World peace, personal peace, peace of mind, peace and quiet, peace treaty, peace symbol, peace sign, peace conference, peace maker, peace march, Prince of Peace.

I would like your help in exploring this many-faceted topic. Let me know what you think. I will be doing some posts on this theme over the summer and would love to have your input.

Peace--

Allen

The Peace of the Buddha vs the Peace of the Christ

Buddhist teachings about peace repose at the core of its worldview and ethical teachings. Being a peaceful person and helping to create a future karma of peace for oneself and the world are at the heart Buddhist practice. Consider this statement:

Even if we feel our cause is just, if we in thought, word, and deed make war against injustice, we are still part of the problem and not contributing to the solution. On the other hand, if we concentrate on putting our own minds at peace, then we can broadcast peace mentally and generate peace through our actions. We should use a peaceful mind to act for peace in the world. From Buddhist Ideas for Attaining World Peace, by Ron Epstein (Lectures for the Global Peace Studies Program, San Francisco State University, November 7 & 9,1988)

One might be inclined--many have--to take a few select statements of Jesus, such as,"Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the sons of God," and suppose that he and his predecessor of four centuries, Siddhartha Gautama, were on the same page about this subject. There seems a sort of mania on the part of religious unifiers to show that all the great religious thinkers of the past drew from the same universal well of divine inspiration and that their differences are only peripheral and inconsequential. This unifying impulse is, I suppose, commendable on some level, but it winds up muddying things for those seeking clarity regarding religious and spiritual values.

Jesus spoke about peace a great deal. Just when you might begin to think that Jesus had perhaps slipped off to India in his younger days and hijacked the Buddhist teachings on peace, he comes out with,“Do not think that I came to bring peace on earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword" and really throws you for a metaphysical loop. Luke, recording the same teaching, has Jesus saying, " Do you suppose that I came to give peace on earth? I tell you, not at all, but rather division." What's a follower of Jesus to think? Do these discordant sayings of the Prince of Peace rattle your mind and disturb your heart? Not to worry, the Master has a word for you: "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled..."

The Buddha would have us become human prayer wheels for peace, blowin' in the wind, "broadcast[ing] peace mentally" to the tumultuous war-ravished world around us. Jesus would have us speak the sword-sharp Truth about Himself and redemption--a truth he promises will brings division and even pit people against one another.

The Buddhist path would have us eschew any effort to battle injustice or confront oppressors, and instead have us create good karma for the future by means of projected peaceful thoughts and gentle friction-soothing actions. Isaiah exhorts us to, "Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows." [emphasis added]

The paradox in all this is that there is a profound peace for the followers of Messiah Jesus, even as they confront injustice and fight oppressors, for as Jesus told the original disciples, "These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

If all this hasn't given you enough to think about, I'll just leave you with this final thought from the Apostle Paul:

"And the God of peace will crush Satan under your feet shortly. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen." (Romans 16:20)

I've Got the No Time to Write a Post Blues

These days I am feeling a certain sort of obligation (a good obligation I am glad to have placed upon myself) to write a post every few days or so. I certainly would not want a whole week to go by without a posting of some sort. This (writing) is a new discipline and, in the scheme of things is no doubt an answer to my prayer for more discipline in every aspect of my life.

Today I had hoped to spend an hour or two at the keyboard, but it was not to be. It is late and I am left with but these few moments right before bedtime (In that respect, this post is rather more a journal entry). As today unfolded, I did a few chores, like shopping and emptying the cat's litter box, and then received an impromptu lunch invitation from a good friend--which I happily accepted. Coming home I had a visit from my brother and his girlfriend. We went to a neighborhood pub, the Ould Sod, for a beer and then home for pizza and some good and meaningful conversation. These things filled the day.

I did note, on a little index card during the day, a few potential topics, such as: neatness, order and what they mean; the peace of Christ contrasted to the peace of Buddha (now possibly a series); what makes a "man's man" or, a "manly" man; the cigar smoking interior decorator and a few others. These and other ideas will have to vie for next up to bat on this blog.

Please let me know if there is a particular topic you think I should explore. Who knows? You might just tip my hand in one direction or another. For now it is night-night time and in the morning the beginning of a new work week.

May the Lord shed his grace and goodness upon you and may your life be drawn ever more into orbit around him and his eternal truth. Amen.

No man’s really any good till he knows how bad he is, or might be; till he’s realized exactly how much right he has to all this snobbery, and sneering, and talking about ‘criminals,’ as if they were apes in a forest ten thousand miles away; …till he’s squeezed out of his soul the last drop of the oil of the Pharisees; till his only hope is somehow or other to have captured one criminal, and kept him safe and sane under his own hat.

--G.K. Chesterton The Secret of Father Brown, 1927

The Face of the Buddha vs The Face of the Christ

The image of the Buddha greets one regularly in my neighborhood. Not just at the vegan restaurant on the corner, but even in less likely places such as gas stations and even the local hardware store. I've noticed that even Walmart is offering Buddhist inspired decor. A local furniture store is named, The Eye of Buddha.

Back in the late 50's, when I was a kid, there seemed to be an island craze which swept, if not the country, then at least our city. Tiki torches were ubiquitous. When I was about fourteen, I carved, from an 8-foot section of palm, a tiki to go by our backyard pool. It had big pukka shells for eyes. I remember my dad completing the exotic ambiance of our backyard with a one-foot high cement Buddha placed on a little pedestal. This Buddha was fat. It seems fat Buddhas are out of fashion these days.

I find the image of Buddha attractive and interesting. The perfect serenity and calm of his features has, I think, a universal attractiveness and appeal. Who among us has not gazed upon the soft and somewhat feminine features of the Buddha's placid face, with those smooth and relaxed eyelids so calmly and completely closing off all the stress and care of the outer world, and not longed to somehow attain this same deep inner peace and detachment from all worldly cares?

This stress-free Asian face reflects a deep peace which shields its soul from all the clamor and strife of the material world. It's the face of determined and disciplined detachment from a tumultuous and tragic world. The Buddha sits there silently and serenely inviting us to join him in that place where all earthly care has ceased and no striving disturbs the glassy stillness within. In this unlined face it is evident that all wants and desires have been released and all mental and physical tension have drifted away like some wispy vapor. This face silently whispers that all is--or at least can be--peace and perfect harmony.

Christ's face is portrayed most often as reflecting some deep emotion. He is either seen in anguish as he himself suffers upon the cross, or weeping in sorrow when at the grave of Lazarus. His face reflects protective concern for the woman about to be stoned. This is not to say that images of Christ cannot be found depicting him in relative ease, it's just that images of him in some sort of sorrow greatly outnumber the others. There is indeed the Prince of Peace aspect to Christ, but it is not the peace of detachment from the world, but a peace which comes at the cost of first engaging with and overcoming evil.

The Christ we find depicted, whether in the Bible or in art, is a Christ who is fully engaged in the world. We find him hotly debating opponents one minute, then dramatically delivering a demon possessed man the next. He makes no effort to shut himself off from suffering and pain around him, instead he seems wade into it and absorb it. Isaiah tells us, "He is a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." This is the face of a man who feels deeply an inner grief over the plight of our struggling and suffering humanity. He weeps over Jerusalem. He gets angry and overturns the tables of the money changers. He cries out to the multitudes. He rebukes the pharisees. Christ is anything but placid and calm in the middle of the mess of fallen humanity.

The two faces reflect two ways of being in/coping with the world around us: We can, like the Buddha, shut it out and retreat inward to a serene and silent reflecting pond deep in the tranquil inner monastery of our souls or, we can engage the hurt and struggles happening around us and "weep with those that weep" allowing our souls to both confront and mourn for a broken and wayward world.

The Confessions of Saint Allen, No. 3

I drive a gas-guzzling SUV. I suppose if Al Gore were to measure my carbon footprint, I'd become a whole segment for his next movie. As it is, I'm afraid I'll soon be required to submit to the new Cap-and-Trade program before they'll allow me to keep driving it.

For my confession is to be complete, I need to let you know that I have gone deeper in enviro sin than you may have imagined from the paragraph above. You see, the SUV I drive is not even a modern one with gobs of government-mandated pollution controls stuck all over it. The awful truth--and I can't hide the fact--is that it has no pollution controls on it whatsoever (There--I've said it). That's because it's a 1968 Chevy Suburban. The good ol' 3-door model. This thing has enough metal in it to make half-a-dozen Honda Civics. It gets about nine miles to a gallon. In a few years, when New York is fourteen feet under water, I know that I will personally be responsible for an inch or two of it.

Why am I so blase' about killing the planet? Well, it all goes back to Y2K. Remember? The computer glitch that was going to bring the gears of modernity to a sudden infrastructure-crashing, business-confounding stop at the rollover into the new century? That's why I drive my planet-destroying vehicle. The genesis of my fall from harmony with the planet goes back to early 1999. That's when I began noticing this '68 Suburban parked here and there downtown.

Being the prudent person I am, I saw it as the perfect worst-case-scenario vehicle to get us (me and my wife) through the wilderness years following civilization's post-Y2K collapse. So one day I left a little note under the wiper asking the owner to call me if he ever decided to sell it. He called me that evening. Next thing you know, bodda-bing-bodda-boom, I'd bought us our Y2K back up plan. This baby would be just the ticket to ride out the coming social upheaval. "Heck," I thought, "this thing is so spacious inside, why there'd be room for our three cats, a good stock of Friskies Special Diet cat food, their litter box, thirty or forty gallons of water, and a good portion of our book collection." I calculated that there'd even be room enough for a small fridge to boot. Then of course we'd need to invest in a diesel generator. Excellent thinking!

Well, you may have noticed that the social collapse following Y2K was somewhat less than total. Therefore we never did have to head for the hills and make the 'burb our back country survival headquarters. We grew to like the old Suburban so much we decided to keep her, notwithstanding the way it would warm the globe in the ensuing years. We still take her out to the back country, but now it is only for a week-end of camping.

There you have it. Another from-the-heart confession by the guy you don't want to spar with in traffic--especially if you're in a Prius.

The Karma of My Neighborhood

I live in a San Diego neighborhood called Normal Heights. The joke around town is that it is anything but. My wife and I don't really fit the political/cultural make up of the area (I'd guess this neighborhood went 98.7% for Obama. The other 1.3%? Peace and Freedom. We really don't mind and actually like the charming and somewhat quirky flavor of the area. Up on Adams Ave is a very popular coffee house called Lastat's. It has lots of gargoyles making faces at you from many vantage points on/around the building. It's a popular hang out for the goths and several other sub-culture groups. I guess sub-cultures of a feather flock together. A friend of mine and I had coffee there once. It was nice. Next time I go there I think I'll wear one of those knit hats that come with dreadlocks sewn around the inside edge.

Anyway, that was all introduction to a recently overheard conversation I want to tell you about. It perfectly captures the flavor of our little Normal Heights community. I was out for a walk when, not far from the vegan/yoga restaurant I saw a younger looking woman on a bicycle stopped curbside asking directions from an older earth-mother type. The younger woman had on some flowing Buddhist style clothing and one of those odd pear-shaped shoulder sling things lots people in the area carry. Anyway, as the girl on the bike began to peddle away, the earth-mother woman called out to her, "Good Karma Sweetie!" "And to you" the younger woman called back over her shoulder as she peddled away.

Mr. Rodgers' attire might clash here, but I think he would have felt right at home in this neighborhood.

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The Confessions of Saint Allen, No. 2

I smoke Cigars. I suppose I should begin by explaining how I fell into this delightful habit. It all started with C. S. Lewis. Actually, it was more the Inklings [Excuse me while I google Lewis, Inklings, smoking]. OK, I'm back.
Here are the basics (from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inklings):

The Inklings were literary enthusiasts who praised the value of narrative in fiction, and encouraged the writing of fantasy. Although Christian values were notably reflected in several members' work, there were also atheists among the members of the discussion group.

"Properly speaking," wrote Warren Lewis, "the Inklings was neither a club nor a literary society, though it partook of the nature of both. There were no rules, officers, agendas, or formal elections."

As was typical for university literary groups in their time and place, the Inklings were all male. (Dorothy L. Sayers, sometimes claimed as an Inkling, was a friend of Lewis and Williams, but never attended Inklings meetings.)

A number of Inklings participants were smokers. And drinkers. They smoked pipes and/or cigars. A few years back I began to think about--and envy--the Inklings and their camaraderie. I could picture them gathering, Friday afternoons, at the London pub they frequented, the Eagle and Child (Which they renamed the Bird and Baby). By all accounts they enjoyed brandy along with their cigars, cigarettes and pipes. We live in a much different day and age with a much different set of values.

I had quit cigarettes more than a year before I began smoking cigars. By this time, I had no residual cravings for nicotine whatsoever. What drew me to cigars was the mental image of the Inklings and the camaraderie they shared. I began to wonder if there were, anywhere in all of San Diego, a place where men got together for interesting conversation. I could find none. Still, the picture in my mind remained. It was a picture of men of like mind sharing themselves and their thoughts together in a way which was pleasing to them and fulfilled the need all men have for camaraderie.

As fate would have it, that month National Review (a political fortnightly) had a full-page ad from Thompson Cigars for a sampler pack of six cigars--which came with a free humidor/carrying case. I went for it and ordered the cigars. I smoked them one by one and found one brand I really liked--C.A.O. (Still my favorite: the Brasilia Samba. Ummm...) I was so inspired, I began, in January of 2005, the Chesterton Cigar Club--named after none other than the great Victorian journalist (and cigar smoker), G.K. Chesterton (Seems everyone in that period dropped their first to names to initials. Just call me D.A. Randall)

There you have it--confession No.2. It is 7:00p.m. straight up. I am now going to go select from my humidor a big beautiful cigar and celebrate a day well spent relaxing, shopping, putzing and blogging by lighting one up and contemplating my next confession.

* The Inklings was an informal literary discussion group associated with the University of Oxford, England, for nearly two decades between the early 1930s and late 1949.^[1] Its most regular members (many of them academics at the University) included J. R. R. "Tollers" Tolkien, C. S. "Jack" Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams, Christopher Tolkien (J. R. R. Tolkien's son), Warren "Warnie" Lewis (C. S. Lewis's elder brother), Roger Lancelyn Green, Adam Fox, Hugo Dyson, R. A. "Humphrey" Havard, J. A. W. Bennett, Lord David Cecil, and Nevill Coghill.

**The Eagle and Child is a pub in St Giles', Oxford, England which is owned by St. John's College, Oxford.
From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inklings

Confession Series Explained

Below begins a new series. It will be an occasional series. That is, these "confession" posts will only appear from time to time. As the spirit leads, I will reveal some aspect of myself/my life that runs counter to something. That something could be the prevailing cultural norms, or current Christian norms (however defined), or it could be some revealing opinion of mine I feel readers might find curious, instructive, entertaining or interesting.

These will be my own personal, particular "confessions" or points of view I happen to hold at the time I express them. Some, even many, of the things I believe are in flux--but this flux is not one with wild parameters. Instead, it is a flux which continues to to be refined by what I discover, with God's guidance, to be true. This, I trust, will be a life-long process of discovery--lead ultimately by the one who some two-thousand years ago said, "I am the way, the truth and the life."

I belong to what is called a, "*confessional church"--the Presbyterian Church (USA). I have come to appreciate this aspect of the church. I don't mind opposing points of view. I like it when people declare, plainly, what they believe. I can handle disagreement and dissenting points of view--this sort of tolerance is a conservative/liberal value I hold dear.

*A confession is a public declaration of what a church believes. Individual Christians certainly confess their own personal faith, but a confession of faith is more than a personal affirmation of faith. It is a statement of what a community of Christians believes. Such statements have not always been called confessions. They have also been called creeds, catechisms, affirmations, formulas, definitions, declarations of faith, statements of belief, articles of faith, and other similar names. Whatever their form, confessions of faith express what a body of Christians believe in common. (From http://www.brookingspres.com/acc.htm)

The Confessions of Saint Allen, No.1

I like to shop. There, it's out on the table. (Oh, about the "saint" business: Since it somehow got applied to my buddy Augustine, then I figured what the h...oops, I almost forgot, we saints have standards to maintain. Ahem, ahem.) Where was I? Oh, shopping. Yes, well I suppose shopping is one of those things psychologists and sociologists [By the by--I'm beginning to think I'd really like to be a sociologist. At least I would if I didn't have to produce any long boring papers with lots of statistics and charts and graphs and things. I'd just want to go somewhere, like the airport or a local park and people-watch for an afternoon. I'd take a little pocket notebook and jot a few observations from time to time. Perhaps get a latte and have a friendly conversation with the the person at the coffee cart. I'd get home in the early evening, pour myself a glass of chardonnay and write a short opinion piece based loosely on my day's experience. That's the kind of sociology that would interest me. I think I'll check it out on Monster-dot-com]. Where was I? Oh, yeah, shopping. Anyway, as I was saying, I'm a shopper. I'm also a guy. I have the impression that guys generally don't like to shop. A guy only goes shopping if he is drug (dragged?) along by his wife or goes dutifully, perhaps resentfully, when sent on out by her on a shopping errand, "Oh, and honey, don't forget the maxi-pads. Thanks sweetie." [OK. I'm an amateur sociologist, you don't have to tell me: I know, I know, some guys have a live-in girlfriend instead of a wife. Also if I were a sociologist, I could do a "study" about this thing of guys not liking to shop. I really need to get over to Monster-dot-com]. Like I was saying, I like to shop. I went shopping just today--at Walmart. I like shopping at Walmart. I like the regular unprofessional looking old folks who greet you at the door. They're nice. I haven't done it, but I bet you could stand there and have a nice ten-minute conversation with any one of them. Do you think a sociologist would do a study of Walmart greeters? I would. [How much do sociologists get paid, anyway? Who in the h... oops. I mean, who in the heck pays them?]

[You don't want to go too long without a paragraph break. People freak out when they see a whole bunch of text with our a paragraph break. That's my theory anyway--as an amateur sociologist] Yes, shopping. Another reason I like shopping is I love bargain hunting and getting a good deal. Man, I'm jazzed if I look at "Your savings today" on my receipt and it is into the 40% range! Yippee--I done really good today! I stroll through the lot to my car feeling grrr-ate. "I bet the best anyone else did today was 34%" Best of all is when (I plan my shopping so this rarely happens, but it still does sometimes) we are out of something and have to get it and--it's on sale! Yes! I suppose the feeling I get then is the same as the one regular guys (Ones with the "sports gene"--which I don't happen to have) get when their team scores. I am a big comparison shopper. I love to evaluate things and figure out the best deal. Most evaluations are based on the two main factors: price and quality. There are also other factors which can come in to play, such as: desirability, ease of use, name brand, storage, calories, recyclability, etc. It is a game of sorts--a game I find both rewarding and relaxing.

Well, that just scratches the surface of why I like to shop. I could go on and on I suppose, but that's enough for one post. Sociologist have studied people's reactions to long posts and...

The post below is the final one in the 26-part series which chronicles the year-long period culminating in my conversion in 1972. If you followed along I hope you found it a rewarding investment of your time. Thanks for stopping by. Next week I plan on returning to doing a more random selection of topics. I hope to maintain your interest and make returning to this little blog worth your while. Comments and dialogue are enthusiastically encouraged! --Allen