My Monasticism

I am not called to poverty,

Not convinced it will set me free;

By my choice or by decree,

Money doesn’t follow me.

I’m not forced to steal or plead,

Have no want for daily bread;

Have access to pool and gas char-grill,

While many fend for just a meal.

Five thousand living just by me,

Labelled homeless; categorically,

In river-wash and county seat,

Lord could I learn to wash their feet?

I seek to live in simplicity,

For that is what Christ wants from me,

Much in debt I want more toys,

Am I the source of all the noise?

‘Where there is injury, pardon,’

Offended by world my heart does harden,

I’m less like a saint than a Pharisee,

Living like Christ hasn’t died for me.

I am called to death and cross,

For sake of Christ count all as loss,

For we are all monks in part,

When we follow from the heart.

Better By Half-Ode To The Sandwich

Why won’t you starve if you’re lost in the Desert?  Because of the ‘sand which is’ there.

“Sandwiches always taste better cut in half,” she said to me.  The Spanish for sandwich is emparedado; em-par; from the Latin for in-pair or two.  Two pieces of bread; halved for easy eating.  Practical perhaps but it may have less to do with tradition and more to do with psychology.  

It may be a Freudian thing. Since you were mollified between mom’s breasts she’s been preparing meals for you--- cutting everything into snack-sized pieces.  Those were good eats; fresh and hand made.

Quality may have little to do with love and lots to do with time.  Chefs focus on the sauce, the chicken, the combination of flavor. At home we throw it together in five minutes while checking our Instagram feed.  One hand swiping, one hand stirring.

Half for now, half for later.  A matter both practical and gratifying.  Living on the run the Hero is our hero.  Slowing down we can spruce it up; crusty breads and flavorful sauces; heated up or melting, soft bread or toasted, the tongue is treated to a mix of texture and taste. Enjoy the sandwich now with all its unique flavor and texture.  Crunch of apple, bacon or celery, sweet onion, relish or jalapeno marmalade. You rise from the table full, knowing that you get half the sandwich later again; when you want it. Satiating and delaying gratification the sandwich meets us where we live.

Not only where we live. The sandwich is international.  If you liberally define international as ‘something you can eat between grain-grown bread- like food.’  That would include tortilla, pita and flatbread.  Donuts and French toast count too.  There’s no limit on what can become a sandwich. 

Though without borders (and with or without crust) the sandwich is intimately personal. Mayo, mustard, jalapeno, grilled, pickle, avocado, pita, white, wheat…. the list is endless.   On the run or at the table, nouveau or like mom made it, one-handed or two, the sandwich fits the bill better by half.

Standing In Line Is A Good Thing

“I don’t want to sound like a retro-grouch, but we are asociety that is in constant pursuit of frictionless, fast experiences.,” 

Shaved-ice and watermelon disrupt lives so wonderfully!  In Faenza, mid-summer, post work-day, after dinner, they walk to the zocalo.  Families corral kids and go out into the street.  Old people, young lovers, singles step out into the warm night and make their way down the block.  Coming together under a big canopy; community. Snow-cones and seasonal fruit, wood benches and plastic chairs, man-to-man, coteries of women, cliques of twenty-somethings---catching-up, connecting, “haven’t seen you for a while,” ---evening stretches into late night.  So it was a quarter-century ago.  

I fear it’s a lost tradition. Getting together is no longer a focus.  Casual coffee is going the same route; the ‘pour over’ is being automated because it takes four minutes too long.  We hate lines, so we avoid events. We are submitting to our lesser selves.  

We become little Gollums whose ‘Precious’ is our privacy. It’s easy to hide at home.  Technology makes it possible. We work from home.  We worship at home.  We shop from home.  Bumping elbows with humans is uncomfortable.  People can be annoying.  Unless they’re just like us. Then they’re irritating.  It’s never been good for man to be alone.

To become healthy humans, or hobbits, we need to leave the house.  Build extra time into our schedules.  Set down the phone.  Yes, the lines will frustrate.  Humanity will give you a hundred reasons this was a bad idea. Wait for the moments.  The mother playful with her baby; a shared smile with a fellow customer in line, the scent of a perfume like being in love, affirming words on a tee-shirt, real beauty inked onto a tattoo sleeve. A simple four-minute pour over colors your world with more than coffee; rubbing up against people opens us up to being more richly human ourselves.

Twinkle In The Eyes And Terror In The Face

Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend.

Do not hide Your face from me in the day of my distress; Incline Your ear to me.

My bride; You have made my heart beat faster with a single glance of your eyes…

There is terror in a face we cannot see. In a face that is distorted, misshapen through birth defect or accident-the man bagging your groceries with twisted lips and purple potato nose. The creature in Stranger Things; lacking face but feeding on life. The secret, stomach emptying fear going to the airport as a child to pick up a father---afraid we won’t remember what he looks like.

There is delight in the glance of a lover; the twinkle of a smile in the eyes and the invitation for more. Comfort is found in the face of a friend; the lines on the face mirror years of passionate sharing. The embrace at the airport glad to be in each other’s company again.

There is angst when ‘darkness hides God’s lovely face.’ In all our cries and words and pounding we cannot hear God. Cannot get hold of the hem of His robe. This friend has been the closest one. The one on our side when the divorce papers come; life abandons, friends wound.

There is sweetness when God’s eyes invite us in. Freeing us up and lightening our load to share with such a friend. Filled to fulness. Spring in our step. We fear being forsaken but instead are fully known; safely known. Face to that Face; joy and laughter bubble up. Thirst quenched, hunger sated. Fully heard and safely held. The face we’ll finally see.