Oh Mona

At the start of my summer vacation, I am already checking books of my list. The first I completed was: Becoming Mona Lisa. Overall, I really enjoyed the book. Very educational in the world of renaissance art, Leo da Vinci, and of course, the most famous painting in the world. It was rather interesting to read about how the painting actually got to such a state, and although some chapters were a little heavy and in-depth for my purposes, you really get an inside look into the world's most famous painting and the many different factors that all helped contribute to its fame. Of course, Mona and da Vinci are everwhere these days with the Code out and all, and this was a good reading that I actually used in a discussion last night with one of the bartenders at my restaurant. I mean, the fascination with Mona Lisa's smile and da Vinci's claim as the "ultimate renaissance man" really didn't even start till the 18th century. And as for the Last Supper painting in Rome, well, I guess it's too bad that da Vinci didn't even know how to properly mix his paints and hence, the painting pretty much began wasting away the day after it was completed. Perhaps that's what made the code easier to find.

Return to Shelby

This past weekend, Joy and I made a very quick trip to the town of my high school and parents: Shelby, Ohio. Now, most of you know that if I was to pick one place to live for the rest of my life, Shelby probably wouldn't be it, but nonetheless, it's a pleasant little town, characteristic of small-town middle-America. In short, it's completely different from Chicago.

Of course, this past weekend was Mother's Day, but one of the main reasons we decided to make the quick journey was because my grandparents were going to be in town, which is a rarity since they don't do much traveling anymore. For those of you who don't know, I absolutely LOVE my grandparents. They are straight up the best, heroes in my life, and although they may be aging, they are most definitely still witty and funny and loving and all the things that a grandparent should be.

Joy and I left Chicago at 5:15 in the morning on Saturday (yeah, I can't believe it either) and arrived in the metropolis of Shelby just in time for a little lunch. After lunch, it was time for one of the great traditions in my family: Pinochle. (In case you don't know, Pinochle is somewhat similar to Euchre. In case you don't know Euchre either, well, get out more I suppose.) We officially brought Joy into the Maynard (these are my mom's parents)-Becker tradition, and I can say she did quite nicely indeed, first being partners with my mom and then my grandpa, who is the all-time authority on all things Pinochle.

After a couple of games, Joy and I just had to take a nap. Then it was time for the evening festivities: dinner at my sister and brother-in-law's house. It was quite a party with all sorts of laughter and even a lively discussion related to...well...hell and liberal theology. I find a type of pleasure in being able to bring out some "shocking" views into my family and it always ends up that they wonder if I am going down the wrong path and wonder what the big city has done to me. Needless to say, it was tremendous fun. We then had a little time of mother and grandmother gifts and then the real fun began when my grandparents started sharing some stories from their youth. And wow were they crazy kids. Stealing and killing chickens for a prom dinner, running away to elope in Michigan but then having to call home because my grandma forgot her birth certificate, and stories of their time living in China. There's not too much out there that's better than sitting around listening to your grandparents tell stories, watching them laugh and enjoy remembering, seeing them interrupt each other and hold hands. Yep, it was a nice evening.

After we all returned to Shelby, Joy and I went to Chris and Jen's house for a quick game of Settlers. Congratulations to Jen, both on a nice victory and also on some fantastic almond bars. (Jen, if you ever read this, Joy wants the recipe.) Then it was off to some deep deep sleep because we were straight up exhausted.

Sunday was pretty low-key. We went to church and then sat around for a while showing pictures and what-not, and then sat down for a fantastic lunch. Then it was time to head home, so Joy and I packed up the Jetta and gave some hugs. On the way out the door, I saw a really nice hanging plant my mom had so I picked that up and we took that with us too. It is now hanging beautifully from our balcony at Country Glenn. Thanks mom.

So there you have it...a quick Mother's Day trip to Shelby, Ohio. I can honestly say that while I immensely enjoyed my time with my family, I can also say that a highlight of the trip was the actual driving to and fro. Joy and I realized that it had been a while since we've had a road-trip together, and it was so much fun to sit in the car with our snacks and coffee, talking and laughing and making lists, which is one of the things we always love to do while driving. Yeah, we both love lists. I know...we're not cool. There was also that one highlight where Joy told me she desperately had to go the bathroom (why do they never give you any warning time?!) and then literally began crying when the next sign said that the next stop was 38 miles away. She didn't make it that long, and so there we were, car on the side of the road, Joy sitting on the edge hoping cars flying by weren't laughing at her as much as I was. Another highlight had to have been the Michael Jackson dance party sing-along we had on the way home. Nothing makes a road-trip good like a lot of choreographed moves to "Black and White," done especially foolishly when passing other cars.

"The Last Word..."

Last night I finished reading the third and final book in the "New Kind of Christian" series by Brian McLaren. The third one, titled The Last Word and The Word After That, is pretty much about hell. I know, good spring reading, right? Now, I know that there are a lot of people out there who are against all things McLaren. I can understand that, because I think there's a fear that goes into the idea of someone completely changing the stuff that you thought was unchangeable. There are plenty of moments when I'm reading this stuff that I think, "Wow...this is so different from what I grew up being taught, what I've believed, what I thought was staple to the Christian faith." And yeah, that's scary. But I also love it at the same time.

I actually think this book was maybe my favorite of the three. McLaren proposes a theology of hell that is way outside the traditional (McLaren would say "modern" or "fundamental") view of what actually happens after we leave this earth. And while I am not sure in the end if I agree with the viewpoint that McLaren is proposing, there were many things I really liked about this book, so let's point out a few of those....

Above all, McLaren has challenged the way I view hell. Now, this does not mean that I actually believe what he does (as I mentioned), but that's okay. You see, regardless of where each reader personally falls down on the theology of hell, there are still lessons to be learned. Any careful reader of the text will certainly finish the book evaluating not just their doctine of hell, but also their approach to hell. Do I think hell is largely used to scare others into some kind of "faith" in Christ? Yeah. Do I think hell is also used as a device to make followers of Christ feel safe and excluded from all the others? Yeah. Do I think hell builds barriors between "us" and "them," making "us" feel a whole lot better about not being "them?" Yeah, I do. Not always, but I really think it has that tendency.

So tied into all of this is the fact that the Kingdom of God is here. This is something I've thought about off and on for the last several years (thanks to C.S. Lewis for some of that...) and McLaren delves into this as well. As Christ-followers, we are to be agents of change. This doesn't mean I sit back, go to church, get involved in some ministry, give my 10%, and then wait for heaven. To be a follower of Christ, to me, has to be something so much more rich and complex and difficult and beautiful. It is, as my dad has often said and McLaren also says here, that the Christian life is indeed a life.

Towards the end of McLaren's book (which is self-described as creative non-fiction), we are introduced to a type of communtiy that I would say is entirely too rare. In this community, they regularly ask each other five questons, five questions I think anyone interested in spiritual formation or accountability would find wonderfully helpful. Bring that in with some of the challenges regarding social justice, politics and religion, and thoughts regarding what church is, and there is certainly a lot more here than just thoughts regarding hell.

As a type of narrative fictional genre, McLaren's writing is easy and enjoyable to read and his characters (though sometimes a little too characterized) are unique and memorable. McLaren himself notes that he doesn't give enough attention to the traditional doctrine of hell, but that can certainly be found in many other books. Also, in one section, McLaren quotes sources, and I, hoping to look up a few of these sources for future reading, found them to be totally imaginatory, which was somewhat frustrating to say the least. McLaren does call for reconciliation, outside and inside the Church, and perhaps is a little idealistic in how this plays out in contemporary life, but that's okay, since he's often concerned with what could be, not what actually is. But I think that comes back to one of the overarching themes, that "Jesus wants us not just to avoid being bad; more, he wants us to avoid being fruitless" (p. 78).

Italians and Mangoes

Alright, there are a few random things that just need to be said.

First of all, remember our Italian neighbors who lived across the hall from us in our apartment building?! Well...THEY'RE GONE!!! Joy and I really are still in shock, and it's been over a week now. You see, we thought they were our friends, but we think they moved and didn't even tell us. I mean, just the week before they disappeared, I had shared with them my very own homemade tiramisu. Now, you better believe I was nervous to share with Italians my humble rendition of the Italian classic, but in an effort to reach out and build a bridge, I did indeed share. (And I don't want to brag here, but let's just say the reviews were quite good. I am still holding onto the possibility that the Italians haven't moved but have simply gone to Europe. About a week before they disappeared, they did ask us to use our internet to check on flights to Europe, but we had to say no since we don't have the internet. But the more and more I think about it, I think they are just plain gone. They did leave at the end of the month and there is no sign of life anywhere. It kinda makes me a little sad. Those kids were adorable. (For the record, Joy, with absolutely no evidence, is telling people that our neighbors were illegal immigrants who got scared because of all the immigration hype that is going on...)

In other sad news, I think I have discovered that I am allergic to mango. Now, I am a fruit fanatic. To me, it doesn't get any better than fresh fruit, preferably with a little bread and cheese. MMM. Well, in the last month or so, Joy and I have purchased lots and lots of mangoes, because, quite frankly, they are amazing. But for the last month or so, I have also had some weird lip rash type thing. It's hard to describe, and I just couldn't figure it out. Well, the last of the rash was just going away yesterday, and on a nice Sunday afternoon I thought I would make ourselves a mango smoothie. As I was cutting the fruit, I of course began to eat a few slices, and as soon as the mango touched my lip, I felt that same weird rash-like sensation come back. Joy and I began to process my rashes over the last month and they seem to line up with our mango consumption. Crazy, huh? Well, I'm not sure what to do about this new-found information, because the mango really is one of my favorite fruits. To be honest, I think it might just be worth the rash. Or perhaps I can get the mango into my mouth without the fruit actually touching my skin and then maybe I'll be fine? I'm not sure yet, but I really need to figure this out.

A Good Thing

I stumbled across this quote the other day and it reminded me why I love quotes...because others say things so much more beautifully and poingently than I. I know that I can use a good reminder regarding what's under my feet, and sweet Maddy says it well:

"It's a good thing to have all the props pulled out from under us occasionally. It gives us some sense of what is rock under our feet, and what is sand."
--Madeleine L'Engle

Beej

For the last week, I've had this feeling like I've wanted to write, but everytime I thought about it, I realized I just didn't have words. The vast majority of you who read my blog surely know about the accident that happened a week ago today. For those of you who do not know, a Taylor University van carrying students and staff were involved in a collision with a semitrailer. Four Taylor students and one staff were killed in the crash. Needless to say, families and friends have been devastated. One of the students who was killed was Brad Larson, a senior who was set to graduate in a few weeks and then start law school in the fall. Brad was a friend of mine, and I was able to live on the same wing as Brad during my senior year of college.

As I mentioned, during this last week I've been without words, and largely, I still am. A numbing sense of pain and sorrow have been overwhelming, especially as I have thought about his family and seen his closest friends try to grapple with something that simply cannot be understood.

Yesterday some words were given to me by one of my clients. I was at my new job where I get to work one-on-one with kids and teens and while we were driving, one of my kids asked me what I did over the weekend. I thought for a second about giving a simple "oh, not much" kinda answer, but I just couldn't do it. So I told him about the accident and how I went to the funeral on Sunday. I told him about how Brad was a friend of mine and we had just been in Boston together less than two weeks before he died. Then my kid, who is still in the single digits, asked me how old my friend was. I told him 22. I know that I'm the counselor and the kid's the client, but the response made me get teary eyed all over again: "You're really lucky you got to know him since he didn't live that long." I had no response. After a minute, I simply said, "Yeah, I am."

I can honestly say that I looked up to Beej, as we all called him. He had qualities that would normally make you envious, but he was just too likable to be envied. He was intelligent, witty, considerate, sensible, wise, funny, down to earth, athletic, sincere, godly, and even good-looking. One of the things I admired most about Beej was that he was okay with who he was. Sure, he had areas in his life he wanted to improve and grow, but he was okay being the person that he was, not trying to form to fit some mold or change himself when around different groups of people. I always thought that was admirable and always wanted more of that for myself.

Beej will certainly be missed. And who knows, perhaps he now knows if there is more sand in a mile or gallons of water in the ocean.