I feel a little guilty about leaving Griff and Tracy to do Monday’s podcast without me…
However, I thought I’d at least better blog something or they might take away my press pass that, at least according to Morgan, was going to get me backstage at a Shins concert…or something like that…
…so I took a stroll up to the new Sculpture Garden and snapped a few pictures.
This shot is not the most flattering of the Garden; however, it is revealing. Although I’d read a couple of articles about it, I only realized something rather important when I was actually standing in the site.
The Sculpture Garden lines both sides of the railroad tracks.
So, I guess if you’ve got rail tracks running through your downtown, you should surround it with a Sculpture Garden.
We heard in church this morning that it is the fourth anniversary of the war in Iraq.
I knew that it had been going on for a long time but I didn’t realize that we were about to begin its fifth year. I was certainly aware that the war goes on and people continue to die but I’m afraid that I might be getting used to the daily headlines and it begins to seem like a vague tale of events occuring in a distant land. It is only when I hear of a young man (or woman) from the area heading off to Iraq that it suddenly becomes very real, and close to home, once again.
Perhaps recognizing the anniversary will help keep it in the forefront of my mind.
On Monday, March 19th, there will be a gathering in Bridge Square in downtown Northfield at 12 pm and a vigil at Buntrock Commons on the St. Olaf campus at 5 pm. Hopefully, it will dispell some of the numbness that can result from the seemingly endless stories of the on-going war.
“And now let us bow our heads in prayer and ask God for a bountiful harvest this year.”
“I’ll pray for your speedy recovery.”
They’re false and they’re destructive because they undermine the potential of a truer, more helpful way of praying.
I love this Far Side cartoon of God at his computer, poised to smite the dufus guy walking under the dangling piano. It’s the perfect illustration of how people who pray for future events (intercessionary prayers) view God — a Wizard of Oz’ish supreme being who can pull levers and push buttons to make things happen in the physical universe.
Read the stories of families receiving the bodies of troops killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. Surely most of these people prayed for the safe return of their loved ones. And many of them are now having a crisis of faith because of their belief that God could have done something about it.
Lord, I was told to be very specific when I pray, so here it goes. I pray for financial miracles in my life. I pray that we get bills paid off. I pray that we win Publishers Clearing House, the lottery, or something to do this. I pray for financial blessings, miracles, and opportunities. In Jesus’ name I pray. I pray that we can buy a house. Lord, please provide the way and means to buy a house… Please help us, oh Lord, please grant my prayers. In Jesus’ name I pray.
It’s painful to read that. This prayer is essentially no different than me praying that the Twins win the World Series. That we get more snow. That I beat Tony in racquetball next week. That we sell our house. Those could my false prayers.
It doesn’t bother me that the guy is rich, as long as he’s been ethical and legal in acquiring his wealth. But it bugs me that he’s preaching a ‘prosperity gospel’ in which God rewards you with wealth for good behavior. Here’s a quote from another Strib article):
“God says if you base your life on his covenant, these blessings are gonna overtake you; you can’t do anything about it, friend. [What was once] flocks and herds is in today’s parlance stocks and bonds.”
That’s bullshit. And it’s destructive.
Jesus wasn’t hesitant to criticize the way some Pharisees prayed. I sure hope some of Northfield’s more enlightened ministers will criticize Mac Hammond’s brand of prosperity gospel in their sermons this weekend.
We at Locally Grown HQ have been talking about inviting guest bloggers to author occasional posts here. And then I noticed that Justin Stets was the guest Faith columnist in last weekend’s Northfield News, writing about his struggles after his sister took her life last year. (A tip-of-the-blog hat to the paper for giving a lay person access to that space.)
Obituary notices had been on my mind already (no link necessary) so his column got me thinking about the local public conversations that happen or don’t happen when someone dies… and whether the local online world could be helpful.
Northfield teachers Brenda and Andrew Gilbertson contributed to a public Caringbridge site for a couple of years until Brenda died last spring. I didn’t know either of them but I do remember hoping Andrew would continue writing publicly after Brenda died. I thought the visible community conversation after her death could be as important for healing as that which occurred online while she was sick.
Each August, the Northfield Bicycle Club hosts Tours de Nick, the annual bicycle tour in memory of young Nick Sansome who took his life five years ago. Each year, I find myself wanting to click my way to a website about Nick, as my memory of him is fading.
Justin’s sister didn’t live here so this is a bit different than the examples above. But Justin does live here and he’s gone public with his reflections so maybe it’s as good a place as any to start talking about death in community and what role, if any, the local online world/blogosphere could play beyond posting the same obituaries that appear in the paper.
I asked Justin for permission to post his column and he emailed me the text of it. I couldn’t find a link to it on the News’ website. Also, I didn’t ask for his commitment to participate in a conversation thread here, as I didn’t want to be presumptuous. This might be a good idea or a lousy idea and he shouldn’t be the one to make something happen. That’s up to the rest of us.
Out of Darkness by Justin Stets
A little over a year ago, my sister took her life. This loss of one I loved deeply intensified my existing fear of death. It also required me to face my anxieties straight on, and that is what I have been doing for the past year.
The fear of death grips me fiercely. I have always struggled with the concept of my mortality. For a person of my age, I have spun and analyzed death too many times over. Almost half way through life and I have yet to come to terms with the fact that one day biology stops working, cells stop reproducing and the heart stops beating. From an emotional standpoint, I don’t much wish to leave my children. Spiritually, I feel like when I am 70 or so, that that is the time I will begin to understand what life is all about. Life, for me, is really worth living and the more I live, the more I want to live, and learn and love and change the world.