The United States of 'Uncle Ricco'

Pop culture is infatuated with the age of 17.  I can, from a teen's perspective, understand why 17 is so important.  After all, this is often an age during which one has a strong sense of tomorrow coupled with the feeling of invincibility.  When I was 17 I recall believing that I was at my peak in many ways.  I further recall thinking that my current age (43) was a mere step from the grave.  Yes, from the perspective of a 17 year old adolescent, I get it - the world is their oyster.  The only problem is that most people the age of 17 are completely incomplete.  They are caught somewhere between Dustin Hoffman's 'Rain Man' and James Cameron's 'Titanic' - flashes of brilliant irrationality combined with a sense of superhuman invincibility.  This is a particularly destructive combination.

Sittin' Around Talkin' About . . . Glory Days
What I do not 'get,' however, is why those of us over 40 still long for and dream about the 'glory days' once past; those days when we were . . . 17 (Of course for some that magic moment could be age 29 - insert your preferred age of grand illusion here ____).  For an interesting and hopefully enjoyable trek down memory lane, consider this brief list of songs that extol in one way or another the virtues (or celebrates vices) of 'yesteryear' (mind you all of these are written by songwriters older than the age of 17, some of them much older):

1. Forever Young, Rod Stewart
2. Yesterday, The Beatles
3. You've Got to Fight for Your Right to Party, The Beastie Boys (okay, these guys were probably about 7 when they wrote this one).
4. Dancing Queen, Abba
5. Glory Days, The Boss
6. Summer of 69, Bryan Adams
7. Fast Cars and Freedom, Rascal Flatts
8. Springsteen, Eric Church

In the interest of 'fair play' it behooves me state that these songs and others like them (as well as a variety of components from our culture) may simply be relaying themes and ideas of times gone by in a way that cause us to pause and be thankful for where we are now; rather than longing for where we were then.  Yes, this may well be the case.  However it is increasingly clear that we are living in a world that 'idolizes' youth and detests aging.  We fight aging or 'growing old' at every turn.  From our incessant habits of exercise, endless consumption of diet pills, to our multi-billion dollar industry of cosmetic surgery, one might easily surmise that we are infatuated with youth.  Indeed many, if given the chance, would choose to be 17 again.

No Neutral Desire
Perhaps, in your own mind, you are already drawing a distinction between wanting to be 17 and remembering, with wonder, what it was  like.  Indeed, that may be the case - and, of course, that may also be the core of the problem.  In once sense the sheer act of remembering stirs within us and points us toward desire - a longing lurking somewhere just beneath the surface of our lives.   Desire (this longing), even if unseen or denied, always controls the helm of our heart, steering our lives in one direction or another - or holding us in a pattern of perpetually unrealized hopes and dreams.  Indeed, there simply is no neutral desire.  Desire always points toward a deeper conflict which lurks within.  In one sense it is not so much the conflict of desiring to be 17 again, as much as it is that a 'starry eyed' recollection of this wonder moment in your life may indeed be the cause of the languishing you currently experience.

The United States of Uncle Ricco
Consider for a moment the languishing uncle of Napoleon in the hit movie Napoleon Dynamite.  His name is Uncle Ricco.  Many of us know him well.  We laugh at him in order to protect our own hearts; for in his character we find an inkling of our own unfulfilled dreams and the agony of misdirected desire.  Uncle Ricco was a high school football star who simply never grew past that wonder moment of the grid-iron glory days long past.  In fact, he so deeply desires a recurrence of this moment that he continued to work on his 'football skills' (not to be confused with ninja skills) throughout the movie.  The writers made us laugh and point a finger at uncle Ricco, even as they caused us to ask the question, "what of Uncle Ricco lives within me?"  You find him at the tailgate party, or the beach side game of pick football.  He exists on the basket ball black tops and in the city play grounds throughout this country.  He dwells in the board room, and drinks from the water cooler in the company lounge.  He gets drenched in the Saturday night pub and stumbles into the Sunday morning pew.  Yes, he lives in the salon, the bar, the restaurant or the conflict around the dinner table . . . no, Uncle Ricco doesn't always throw a football.

Some Uncle Ricco and Napoleon Dynamite clips

Desire Rightly Stirred is Desire Rightly Steered
To remember has always stirred desire.  To remember falsely (i.e. glory days remembrance) stirs misdirected desire that leaves our hopes unfulfilled and someone (or thing) else to blame.  To remember rightly stirs desire that points us forward toward a still yet to be seen reality and a meaningful purpose as we strive toward such reality.  

The Ancients, a people who remembered rightly,  knew this difference well.  Consider the ancient Israelite's who journeyed for decades before arriving at the promised land.  They not only 'remembered' rightly, they memorialized right remembering!   One might even say they institutionalized remembering.  In Numbers 15 we find God commanding his people 'to make tassels for the hem of their clothing.'  These tassels, when looked upon, were to stir up memory of God's laws - the way forward - so that they would not be directed or 'steered' by misaligned desires.  To remember was, to them, a way forward - one which they weaved into the very fabric of their society and served to hold them fast and grant them purpose and meaning.  Further, the way forward - rife with both purpose and meaning - was grounded in their remembrance of God.  Yes, to remember was to be reminded that they were the people of God, set aside as a light unto the world, to bring glory to Him and honor to His name.

  
Whereas we moderns have also institutionalized remembrance - ours is an institution which points back to oneself.  The ancient institution was one in which memory pointed forward to God and His vision (away from oneself).  The former causes misaligned desire which leads to a life poorly lived.  The latter causes desire rightly directed which leads to a life rightly lived; instilling a vision for glory yet to come!

Perhaps the question I might leave us with today is this: 'Does my desire direct me to glory days long gone or to the day of glory yet to come?'  They way I answer this question impacts how I live my life and the stirring and steering of my deepest desire.

the shape of desire

Biz

Mathematics the Gospel and Why Partially Right is Entirely Wrong

Math.  I hated it.  In fact, when I graduated, I thought I would put mathematics behind me once and for all.  I recall, with joy, my final sessions of algebra, geometry and all their inbred cousins.  I slowly raised my body from the 'once size fits all' metal desk, adopted an arrogant 'I am finished with you' smirk, strolled past my teacher, through the doorway, into the hallway to my long anticipated math free adult life.  Yes I had found it: FREEDOM.  

My smirk said it all - 'no more math for me!'

Now, over 20 years later I have come to realize something:  I was wrong! There is no such thing as a math free life.  Math always seems to find you.  He haunts you like a bad habit you believed to be broken or a horrible memory you had hoped was shaken.  Just when you thought you were free you find that daily living requires mathematics. 

Yes.  Daily life requires math.  There are the basics of adding and subtracting: 'where did all my money go?'  There are the basics of computing and percentages: 'how much should I tip?' And then there is, of course, parenting math: 'dad, there are only two waffles left.  How do we split them between the three of us.'  To which I reply, 'child, you don't - I get them all.' Parenting math, however, goes beyond stealing waffles or anything else my prophetic teachers could have seen those long years ago.  Parenting math means you have to live through mathematics purgatory (a state of existence in which no amount of prayers provide deliverance) all over again through the homework your children are given to complete.  It is best if you learn it the first time, because by the time you are my age learning it comes with no small amount of the sacrificial 'blood, sweat and tears' offering - not to mention bartering and trading with the mathematics gatekeepers in the hopes that s/he will show mercy.

Yes in my home we often lament the far too familiar: hi - ho, hi -ho, it's off the math cliff we go . . . .

Funny thing.  When I assist my children in scaling this math cliff I find that I get most of the answer right.  You would think that is enough!  But noooo, you not only have to get the correct answer, you have to show how you got your answer.  Further the process (pathway to your answer) MUST be the process they (the mathematics gatekeepers) have taught - it must be their way.  The final wrinkle in this convoluted mess is this: there is no partial credit.  One would think that, in a discipline as specific and value free as mathematics, partial credit would be in high demand.  Not the case.  As we have found in our home time and time again, on more than one returned homework assignment: Partially Correct is Completely Wrong (usually accompanied by some silly smiley face - not sure when teachers decided that if you put a goofy smiley face next to your comments you can write anything you want to write).

And, though I remain frustrated with math, I have come to value the truth it teaches.  There is indeed a way to get something partly right and to be wholly wrong at the same time.  In today's expression of Christianity we live and breath in the world of 'partial credit,' failing to realize that we are wholly wrong.  

Take for example our modern 'privatization of the faith.'  I call it the 'just Jesus and me' Idol (yes, it's idolatry).  Ask any Christian today about their faith and they will speak in wholly personal terms.  One of the truths I have come to learn in my desire to be formed into the image of Christ and to bear witness to His rule in our world is this:   Spiritual formation, though personal, is never private (in contrast with the pervasive and fatally flawed American Christian Mantra: "It's just Jesus and me").  Don't hear what I am not saying . . . God is wholly concerned about the person.  After all, He created us as persons.  However, in any expression of religious growth, particularly Christian, you cannot find an emphasis on the person above the community.  In fact, as one reads the Scriptures, you find that the person grows in AND ONLY in community.  The pronouns utilized are rarely, if ever, singular - they are always plural and considered within the context of a local and vibrant community of faith.  

So, yes, we get it partially right: God cares about the individual.  And, we get it entirely wrong because God is opposed to individualism.  In all likely hood our break from a community of faith or our lack of commitment to one is a reflection on our own idolatry rather than our own freedom.  No, we are not being more Christian we we exclaim, 'it's just Jesus and me' - rather, we are simply being more American.  To become more Christian requires active and sacrificial participation in a local community of believers that gathers weekly to worship God and bear witness to His rule in this world.

I have included a link to an article that highlights the hope of our own spiritual growth and grants further insight into the church's role in that growth.  I encourage you to take a few minutes and read it . . . : http://www.reformedworship.org/article/march-2012/sanctification-ordinary-life

the shape of desire!

Biz