Philippians 3:20-21: Hodegesis Vs. Exegesis

(Note: This is a reflective paper just completed for Dr. Wagner's class on the exegesis of Philippians, with the goal of integrating exegesis with some other aspect of culture.)

For our citizenship exists in the heavens, from which we excitedly await the savior, the Lord  Jesus, who will refashion our body of lowliness to the same form as his glorious body by the exercise of his power by which he subjects all things to himself  -Philippians 3:20-21 (my translation)

                Exegesis has numerous difficulties, often running endlessly into the hermeneutical chasm which divides us from the authors of the texts we tirelessly analyze and, in turn, alienate us from the text itself.  Moreover, even the most astute exegesis does not buffer or stifle the uncomfortable questions which arise from those who read Scripture and finds its answers dismembering at best.  Indeed, the greatest exegetical mind may, simultaneously, be the poorest counselor, guide, and friend in the process of wrestling and grappling with the relationship between what God has said two millennia ago and the oft life-shaking events of today which seemingly confute the existence of such a God, much less the true benevolent character of God’s promises.  How are we, as those in exegetical positions, to lead and guide others in interpreting God’s word in the midst of a “crooked and perverse generation” (Phil. 2:15)?  The question here stretched beyond exegesis and calls us, as Christians, to hodegesis.  This paper will attempt to do just that, using John Darnielle’s analysis of Philippians 3:20-21 as an exemplar case of when the shortcomings of exegesis opens the door for practical, pastoral guidance, hodegesis, to minister to those in bouts of spiritual wrestling.

The hodegetical question is one which, akin to Barth, calls us to hold the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other, but surely cannot be restricted to just that.  While our right hand must firmly grip Scripture, the other must extend not only to newspaper and journal alike, but also to daily discussions, artistic musings, and practical applications of Scripture as well.  The hodegete guides the doubts and questions which arise through the different mediums and materials they articulate from.  One such question arises from John Darnielle, father of the folk-punk based group The Mountain Goats, who in 2009 came out with the album The Life of the World to Come (2009, 4AD Records) which contained 12 songs, all of which followed the nomenclature of different verses of the Bible (e.g. “Psalm 40:2”; “Genesis 3:23”; “Matthew 25:21”) with lyrics which addressed these verses in light of life as we know it.  As Darnielle said in an interview concerning the album:

It sort of came together gradually throughout 2008, and by early '09 I was well into it - first there was this song on the Black Pear Tree EP, "Supergenesis," which was the first Bible-related song I'd written in a while, and I noticed while I was writing it that it kind of woke me up in a way other writing wasn't …And then I learned about a Biblical translation I hadn't known anything about, Young's Literal Translation, and I get pretty excited when I think about translation generally speaking, really inspired. So at that point I was kind of off to the races.[1]

Many of these songs dealt with, what Darnielle called, “hard lessons” which the Bible had taught him in dealing with the rough patches of life, and how they affected his faith as a non-dogmatic Catholic who carries many questions concerning God and the universe as a whole.

                One of his songs on the album was titled “Philippians 3:20-21”[2], a slow song with a slight up-beat accompanied by acoustic guitar and piano and wispy vocals; all of which embody lyrics saturated with a broken theodicy.  In the interview, Darnielle mentioned that the lyrics of “Philippians 3:20-21” were centered around the life and death of author David Foster Wallace (1962-2008) whose most famous work, the 1996 novel Infinite Jest, is considered by many to be one of the most brilliant works of the last one hundred years.[3]  According to Darnielle:

"Philippians 3:20-21" isn't about anybody I knew personally - it's for David Foster Wallace, whose work I don't even know that well but who had such a profound and positive effect on so many people, who was one of those guys about whom, when you get exposed to how he thinks about people and their essential eventual goodness, you think, man, if there were a God, God would have to like this dude, because this dude is so full of goodness and love of life and love for other people, compassion for their struggles, insight into both the good and the bad about people, into the raw humanity that makes the whole world hum. So then he goes and hangs himself, and you think, you know, how could a kind God not give a guy like that the basic equipment needed - the right brain chemistry, I mean - to be able to even bear being alive? You know what I mean? Suicide, the fact that people get to that point of total despair and hopelessness at all, that's like the harshest interrogation of the concept of the Christian God there is…How could a merciful and benevolent and loving God create a good, talented, giving person with a time bomb in his head? How can a good God unleash Hell inside a good man's head?[4]

For Darnielle, Philippians 3:20-21 presents something disturbing; a promise that the body of humility (to soma tēs tapeinōseōs) will be conformed to the body of Christ’s glory (tō sōmati tēs doxēs) but nevertheless, the promise still leaves room for suffering until that day.  The present sufferings contradict this transformative future activity of God.  “Nice people” may hold “hope” for those in the midst of suffering in light of the future hope, but never address the importance of this life. Such hope, for Darnielle, is difficult to hold when we observe the despair of a Christian man, like Wallace, who walks in compassion and goodness only to be weighted-down by a chemical imbalance.

                What are we to say to someone like Darnielle, who sees this eager expectation (apekdechometha) as foolishness in light of the here and now?  The exegetical approach would surely have something to say here.  Darnielle, in addressing Philippians 3:20-21, completely disassociates the passage from the text in its entirety.    The theme of the third chapter is not embracing hope which is ignorant of the apparent suffering of the current age, but a hope which is striving because Christ Jesus has made us his (v. 12) in order that we may know him (v. 8) which is such a reward in and of itself that, for Paul, all else may be considered naught (vv. 7-8).  One only needs to look back to the Kenotic hymn of chapter 2 to see that Darnielle has completely missed the point of the passage; the Christ of Christians is not a God who promises present ambition or success, but is a God who has “emptied”, “humbled”, and subserviated himself to death (vv. 7-8).  Because of this emptying of Christ and his willingness to become nothing, Paul has humbled himself, and in turn calls the Philippians to do the same (2:3-4) and imitate him (3:17) just as they have already shared in his sufferings for the Gospel (1:7).  The attentive exegete would look at Wallace and Paul and see two people, people who are compassionate and brilliant Christ-followers, who endure sufferings and torments.  The difference is that unlike Darnielle’s analysis, Paul does not blame God for the situation, nor does Paul hold ill-will to the goodwill of God.  The Christ of Paul is a Christ who suffers with us, who relates to us in his emptiness and reconciles and restores us in his divinity.  Jesus Christ is Lord, both of heaven and of earth and below the earth (2:10) and as such has freed us from sin in order that, knowing him, all else is rubbish compared to the righteousness that comes through the faith of Christ (3:8-9).  In this faith comes hand-in-hand both the “power of the resurrection” and the “sharing of his sufferings” (3:10-11) such that Paul is not declaring that friendship with Christ equals protection from the world.  Rather, friendship with Christ results in sharing suffering rather than avoiding it, such that in our present suffering the future of the resurrection may be seen.

                This is all well and good to say, but the exegetical path still leaves the wounds of suffering open.  The “why” of Darnielle is still unquenched.  The suicide of a Christ-follower, whose despair led him to death, is not something which can be given balm via exegetical victory.  Yes, Darnielle has uncontextualized the passage and certainly has ignored the central themes of the entire passage which shape 3:20-21, but by no means does that mean correct hermeneutics and exegesis alone can solve the theodicy which still lingers.  It is here the hodegete must act and must walk alongside the struggles of the present in light of what seems to be a contradictory future.  It is easy to say that God is one who suffers alongside us and calls us to share in his death, but it’s another thing to make such a ludicrous claim in light of the philosophical conceptions of the impassible, the omnipotent, and the omnibenevolent God.

                 In my opinion, the underlining conflict here is not only the present sufferings which Darnielle points out, but the very core of what it means for God to be God.  For Darnielle, the conflict arises when a good Christ-follower remains faithful in the midst of suffering while a truly omnipotent and wholly good God stands by, doing nothing.  With this mindset, it’s no wonder Darnielle sees such adhering faith to be the words of “nice people” who are the mystics who “dance in a circle with bells on, try[ing] to make it rain” whose words of comfort are that “he was with God now” while ignoring the reality that this man was subjected to the pain and despair of his condition and numerous treatments which failed to provide him comfort.  Why did God not heal his child now?  Why does one need to suffer the raging current of life and the Hell in his head in order to obtain heavenly passage?

                The scandal of the cross; even in Philippians we see it (3:18), those for whom the cross and its calling to submission in obedience to God and the sharing of God’s suffering are scandalous to say the least.  Whereas the exegete may provide answers, the hodegete must now wade through the murky waters of death and the present day.  The hodegete is, as Henri Nouwen once wrote, a “wounded healer” whose answers come to fruition and articulation in the sharing of another’s suffering (koinōnian pathēmatōn) (3:9).  While the exegete may provide the roots of Christ-following, it is the hodegete who must provide the leaves of such a tree, being the physical representation of both the theology of Christianity and the very Christ who suffers alongside those who suffer.  God has not left us high and dry in expectation for future glorification, nor are our current trials, as gruesome and tristful as they may be, merely the product of God’s inability to heal or his inauthentic goodness.  The book of Philippians provides a paradigm shift of understanding; God is not simply a distant, universal judge of good or bad character and imparter of fairness.  On the contrary, this God is the God of the cross, of humiliation, and of glory in that humiliation (2:5-11).  With this paradigm shift in mind, the hodegete must articulate the promise of hope in this paradigm shift, not merely by theological and exegetical correctness, but also in tireless sharing of suffering as one taking the form of Christ.

                In conclusion, both exegesis and hodegesis are needed to understand Philippians 3:20-21 in light of the theodicy of Darnielle.  This is future hope in light of this present age; our bodies are to be transformed and we will be like the glorious body of Christ.  But until then, our exegesis must lead to hodegesis in that such hope and expectation is to be shared with those whose understanding of God does not embrace the cross in such a way that God becomes one of us.  The Christ of the cross reveals a God who did not seek supremacy, but instead sought humility in order that others might humble themselves and see the love of God crucified.  While exegesis of Philippians may tell us all of this, the next step is to exhibit this.  As those in the post-liberal camp would say, we need to embody the text, to take it up and live within its words, phrases, and concepts.  If we are truly believe in the transformation of our bodies to be like Christ, then we cannot ignore that the rest of us are to be like him as well, including our need to suffer with others.

---

[1] Pelone, Joe. "Interviews: John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats)." Punknews.org. http://www.punknews.org/article/35988.

[2] See Appendix for Lyrics

[3] Grossman, Lev; Lacayo, Richard (2005). "TIME's Critics pick the 100 Best Novels, 1923 to present". TIME

[4] Penrose, Interview,

(Good) Friday

Hence, when Christ is hanged upon the cross, he makes himself subject to the curse. 

-John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (II.xvi.6)

It is not in spite of the Cross, 
in spite of its evident "weakness", in spite of human impotence and frailty, 
that He reveals Himself to us as Son of God, but particularly on the Cross.  
It is precisely the folly of the Cross which is the wisdom of God.

-Emil Brunner, The Christian Doctrine of Creation and Redemption, (II,12,D)

A youth pastor in Grand Rapids died in a house-fire alongside his infant son; a married man, a family man, a servant of Christ.  To be human is to walk daily with our finitude before us, haunting our minds, as the brevity, the brittleness, and the ephemerality that is all so part of the human condition hangs above us like a dark, imposing cloud .  But the question still lingers like a bitter odor or taste: where is God in all of this?

Where is God when it all falls apart?  Where is God when bad things happen to the righteous to the point of sheer absurdity and fleeting vanity (Ecclesiastes 8:14)?  What happens when it seems that God has all but forgotten those who seek Him, who remain waiting for the Savior who never seems to come (Lamentations 5:19-22)?  What are we to do when the very ground we walk upon feels cursed and our heart desires nothing more in its despair than to avoid the very thought of this supposedly compassionate deity (Psalm 38:13)?

Today is Good Friday, though the "Good" is surely a sardonic and sour cup to drink.  On this day a beloved friend, a respected teacher, and a mother's son was led to a humiliating and excruciating death to the sarcastic scorn of his own people and the despondent downward glances of those who trusted his words, who believed he would change the status quo, and who loved him, dearly.

What is it like, to watch your hopes and dreams and anticipations hung before you, scourged and bleeding, groaning and gasping for air.  All of us have faced those aching disappointments which tear away at the corners of the soul: the effects of a recession, the doctor's report, the crumbling of a relationship, the words whose sting still pangs, the abysmal chasm of depression which can never be quenched or filled

And death.

Here hung the one they called Lord, the epitome of humiliation, the hope of the better world to come now wallowing in a criminal's crucifixion.  What did his mother think as he called out in a coarse murmur "Woman here is your son" as he nodded his head towards the disciple whom Jesus loved (John 19:26)?  What did the disciples feel at the broken cry of "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34)  How heavy was the heart of our Savior who, in the garden the night of his betrayal, who alone without comfort or consolation openly told his disciples "My soul is dolefully heavy, even to the point of death" (Matthew 26:38)?  Yes, even Jesus was grieved.

The problem with words is words bear no weight; they may be saturated with meaning but until we can truly be beckoned into that experience can we truly correlate words with a concept, a thought, or a feeling.  So we rush through the Passion of our Lord, we see it as mere symbolism and move on with our lives and never realize that the same agony which chars our hopes and dreams to ash is the same agony which a mother felt staring at her bleeding son, his friends felt as his anguish, and our Lord and Savior felt before he faced the cross our of his love for us.

Where is God when it all falls apart?  He's beside us, sharing our deepest pains with an empathy that knows all too well what it means to be human, what it means to live in a world ravaged by incompleteness and pain, and what it means to face death.

Sometimes, its all too easy to lose hope in a God who doesn't seem to listen, who seems to be high above us with the ability to change our tormented and crumbling existence but has no desire to become involved, who seems to let the world be with no rhyme or reason while those who pray and petition to him with pleading and wailing only the hear the stark silence hanging.  But hope comes on Easter morning, hope comes in the wounds of his hands, hope comes in the reconciliation of all peoples, the forgiveness of our many trespasses, and the promise of the resurrection and eternal life.  It is the hope of a God who is not impassible, impenetrable, or apathetic, but is one who relates to us, who lived and breathed among us, and suffers along side us.  It is on the cross that God reveals who he truly is; our Savior whose power is strong enough to throw off the yoke of sin from our shoulders, and yet is low enough and near enough and human enough to weep when we are weeping and be downcast when we are downcast.

I do not have answers, all I have are questions.  But I do know this; that even the in the darkest tragedy the light of Christ finds its way through, not in the grandeur of fireworks and beatific divinity, but in the compassion of one who made himself like us in order that we may not suffer our sorry state alone for He has already suffered it for us.

He died for me.  And you.  And that is why Friday is truly Good.

Pray often

A Craving for Bean Dip

 For the Kingdom of God is not food and drink -Romans 14:17

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican,
    He can take in his beak
    Food enough for a week,
But I'm damned if I see how the helican. -Dixon Lanier Merritt "The Pelican"

My fiancee Hana knows me better than I know myself, quite an accomplishment if you know this befuddled and oft twisted Gordian Knot.  With an acute psychological prowess, rivaled only by the most ferocious of shrinks, she makes light work of whatever is going on in my head.  However, her mind reading skill pales greatly compared to her skill to read my stomach.  If it's true a man's heart is his stomach, then she's wowed me quicker than Justin Bieber in a throng of middle school girls.

How I yearn for her Pumpkin Dip with Ginger Snaps, her famous Dirt Pudding, and the world-renowned Smith Family Bean Dip!  (Please give me a second as I wipe away the trickling trail of saliva lingering along the side of my mouth and attempt to subdue the sudden rumbles and grumbles of my stomach.)  It's nights like this that I can't help but think that it's not a coincidence of cheap irony that the Greek word for "stomach" is the same word used for the inner hollows of a ship. 

Yet, even more than my gut quakes for her cooking (and we haven't even gotten to her grilled mushrooms) my heart hungers for her presence.  Tonight I hunger for her delicacies, but every morning, noon, and night I find myself starving for her company, her laugh, and her presence.  No matter how I attempt to allay and subdue the gaping chasm and bottomless emptiness, there is no amount of Tom Waits ballads, pictures, or memories which can fully satisfy this superlative need to be with her.

Einstein once said that "an empty stomach is not a good political adviser."  Esau would certainly agree; an empty stomach was enough to cause him to sell his birthright for a bowl of lentil stew (Gen. 25:29-34).  Such hunger cripples a person; it digs at them subtly yet viciously.  It changes someone, suffocates one's true self and replaces it with a stifled shadow of their true self, drifting like a phantom through the drudgery and monochromatic structures of the daily rat race.

But even in these moments of utter hunger and thirsting for her touch, her voice, and her company, there is hope.  What a comfort to know that this semester brings an end to this distance and this hunger for her.  I find myself counting the days, anticipating the rising eminence, and everyday finding some joy knowing that the homestretch is slowly shrinking.  I cannot wait to be married.  I cannot wait to wake every morning to her voice and fall asleep next to her.  I can't wait to feel like myself again.

I hunger for Hana's Bean Dip and I starve for Hana's presence, but how often do I, or any of us, hunger for the coming Kingdom of God?  How often do I yearn for the day when Christ's compassion and love is extended beyond the cruelty and disdain of humanity?  On that day;

They will neither hunger nor thirst,
   nor will the desert heat or the sun beat down on them.
He who has compassion on them will guide them
   and lead them beside springs of water.  Isaiah 49:10

Yet, we get so comfortable here and have superficially filled this hunger with knick-knacks and inordinate ends which really had no meaningful end to begin with.  We have become complacent; satisfied with Dirt Pudding when what we really needed was the one who concocted and created that pudding with selfless love.  Our hope is in Christ, whose act of the cross has opened the Kingdom up for us, that we too may share in the life which can only flow from him; a living hope from the redemptive power and faithful promise of Christ (I Peter 1:3-9, Hebrew 11:23).  It is only when we leave behind the  our current state and look beyond flashy billboards and the constant blaring din of bombarding noise that we may actually be able to truly realize that what we considered the solution to our hollowed hearts was nothing more than offal fill where the over-abundance of Christ's love and promise was always meant to go.

Until then, may your empty stomachs remind you of the full promises of God.  And then, may you fill them with Bean Dip, one and all!

Meekness

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth

- Matthew 5:4

 Like an ox, his head bent meekly, he waited for the blow of the axe which was raised over him -Leo Tolstoy

 Toil itself was a blessed means for making the men more gentle towards each other; just as horses that work together grow gentle, and will stand quietly side by side 

-Xenophon, Cyropaedia (2.1.29)

Once upon a time, in England during the reign of William the Third of the House of Orange (a solid Dutchman if i do say so myself) a prominent Anglican bishop was in the market for the highest quality banquet chairs money could afford.  The bishop himself, being a man of impeccable taste for the eclat and elegant, was always adorned in impeccable ecclesiastical garb with all the necessary accoutrements with an air of regalia which demanded respect.  

At that time, the best craftsmen in the city were the Quakers, a small group of Christians who were known for their simple lifestyles, quaint manners, and gentile friendliness.  The bishop inquired for a certain Mr. Hobart to come and consider the bishop's request.  The next morning Mr. Hobart's apprentice, John Evans, arrived at the bishop's door as Mr. Hobart was out of town that morning.  The bishop's assistant admitted the young Quaker into the main chamber and, which a hint of disdain in his voice, bowed to the cleric and said "My Lord, the Quaker to see you."  John Evans, without a bow or even a tilt of his wide-brimmed hat smiled and yielded a wide grin;

"Good morning, Friend."

Needless to say, the bishop was caught off guard.  As he showed John Evans his banquet chamber and the old chair he thought to himself, "So, this is one of these Quakers.  I have never spoken with one of them before, but have heard that they never remove their hats, bow to prince or power, and address as all 'Friend'.  Even my own wife addresses me as 'My Lord'  while this young, plesant fellow doesn't even tip his cap."  

After taking measurements and instructions from the bishop, writing a few notes, John Evans provided an estimate.

"When will these chair be completed?"  The bishop asked.

"Friend, I cannot say, but Friend Hobart shall be here on the morrow to provide further details and present thee with a final cost."


"Sounds well" the bishop smiled "I will expect him. Many thanks."  


The next morning Mr. Hobart arrived, terribly nervous to say the least.  He had never had a bishop as a client before.  As he hustled across the cathedral ground he practiced bows and attempted a few shaky greetings for the eminence.  Meanwhile, the bishop was concluding a meeting with an array of priests and government officials, gushing over how delightful his meeting with John Evans, the Quaker, was the prior morning.  "I admire that man" the bishop announced "calling even me, the bishop, 'Friend' without even the slightest of bow.  He was completely impartial and treated me like any other person in England.  Surely he must have felt pressure to do so; surrounded by the cathedral buttresses and lavish surroundings.  Yet, he did not bend his humble demeanor a bit.  Come with me and meet this John Evans' boss with me and see what I am saying for yourselves!"

As he finished the bishop's attendant announced the arrival of Mr. Hobart, who by now was quite clammy, bowing low to the ground before stammering out a "My Lord" as he nearly threw his hat off the top of his head.  

The bishop, enduring the smirks and chuckles of the officials and priests alike, shook his head and tersely stated "please sent your Mr. Evans, I will do further business with him" as he headed to his chambers, embarrassed.  Mr. Hobart, confused and slightly embarrassed himself, slowly headed for the door.  But the bishop, a kind-hearted and understanding man, met him there.


"Mr. Hobart, you are a Quaker.  Be one, and do not be intimidated to be what you are not or compelled to act otherwise."

Meekness surely is not weakness.  On the contrary, it is the will and fortitude to stand firm in the midst of temptation and frustration, influence and affluence, the popular and the powerful.  Indeed, the word for meekness in the New Testament is the same word used to describe the taming of a powerful stallion, the controlling of one's spirited emotions (Plato, Republic, 375c) or even the subduing of a god (Euripides, Bacchae, 436).  Meekness is not passivity, it is not shyness, it is not the usual Michael Cera character.  Rather, it is the volition to silence our desire to be the center of attention, the strength to quench our inordinate yearning to appeal to the minority who control the majority, and the difficult task of stiffing the calls of cut-throat success and power in exchange for genuine compassion and self-sacrifice in the very nature of Jesus Christ.  

I find it so odd that it is the meek who inherit the earth.  That's just it; the meek don't want to inherit the earth.  The meek want to get dirty, to dive headfirst into the world, to carry the burdens of others, but they surely have no desire to own, to inherit.  For the meek, it is never about power, ownership, or authority for that belongs to Christ (Matt. 28:18).  Those who are truly meek like their Lord and Savior are kind enough to love those very different from themselves, empathetic enough the respect those in the darkest places, and tenacious and audacious enough to do so without a single thought to their own right to greatness.  By their strength they make themselves weak, by their outstanding morality they associate with those of outstanding depravity, and by their indomitable voice they remain silent.  


I need to be this. We all do.  How different the church would be if our hearts could be tamed to the will of Christ and our intentions to the well-being not just of our friends, our community, and our church, but the world and those who live in it.  At some point, we must be willing, by faith, put aside our own agendas and initiatives and be willing to submit to Christ, even when it burns.  As Oswald Chamber said "the secret of a disciple's life is devotion to Jesus Christ, and the characteristic of that life is its seeming insignificance and its meekness."  Putting aside our own indignations and reservations, may we not be afraid to call all 'Friend' and respect all in the way of Christ, not for the sake of some feel-good idealism or social reformation, but for the sake of Jesus Christ.


Have a blessed evening, Friend.

First Things First

The Big Rock Blue Marlin Tournament is one of the larger fishing competitions on the East Coast.  Needless to say, if you happen to land a championship Blue Marlin, you're kind of a big deal.  In June 2010 the fishing vessel Citation did just that by landing a tournament record 883 pound Marlin, which dwarfed the nearest competition and easily took home the $1,000,000 grand prize.  An onslaught of pictures and interviews ensued over the eclat fish, the anglers beaming along side their haughty catch, and the ceremonial "big check" was brought out as the finale of the seven day event.  However, the celebration was short lived as the judges soon noticed a glaring flaw: one of the Citation 's hired crew neglected to acquire a North Carolina fishing license.  By the end of the week the judges concluded the inevitable; the blatant violation of tournament rules required the disqualification of the Citation from the tourney and the immediate return of the massive purse.

Major Oops.  After months of preparation and planing, thousands of dollars invested in bait, tackle, and equipment, and years of acquired experience, all of it goes to waste over forgetting to purchase a 15 buck fishing permit.  To be honest, it's laughably depressing that such a simple detail could be so significant and whose absence could be so devastating.  Then again, it's pretty easy to put the cart before the horse, a hysteron proteron for you Hellenists out there, and suddenly realize that in the midst of complex planning and the working out of minute intricacies we completely forgot to do the most basic of tasks and pay heed to the most obvious of solutions or precautions.  Without gas, the most well tuned car won't drive; without food, even the most fit and gifted athlete will falter; and without addition, even the most brilliant mathematician would be left in stupor.

Also, without consistent goal-tending, the Red Wings can't get a break.  Thanks Jimmy Howard.

Sometimes, in the midst of the passion and the sweeping motions of the entangled knot that is our lives we become so preoccupied with untangling its twists and snarls that we don't even realize that we ourselves have become entangled in the very knot we so vehemently struggle to unravel.  We forget that sometimes the little things that are so self-evident are in fact the most essential factor; so essential that the entire phenomenon is dependent upon this seemingly simple factor.

Christianity is thrust into chaos on a daily basis.  Just last night I heard first hand how quickly schism and division tear asunder the church.  A congregation in Michigan, led by a few well-intending but over zealous congregants, informed the spiritual community that a female pastor would be speaking in May.  Some of the congregants, however, hold an interpretation of scripture, such that they have been led to believe that a woman should not be ordained and to do so goes against what the Bible says.  Because of the suddenness of this announcement with little or no warning many members of this congregation were scandalized and offended, causing arguments and flashes of anger and even the departure of a couple Christ-following families over the conflict due to the hurt the breadth of the prior actions caused.

Now, I personally believe that the Holy Spirit is not restricted by gender; male and female are both children of God and both are, through the grace of Christ and the Love of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, called to be pastors and caretakers of the Lord's beloved.  However, such a view challenges others; by scandalize I mean it causes our brothers and sisters to stumble, to come into spiritual conflict which has left them stranded and alienated from their community.  Though I feel it is surely necessary for the church to allow full freedom to the Spirit of God such actions cannot be taken via oppression and insensitivity while neglecting any consideration and compassion concerning the struggles of our fellow Christian.  In that regard, no matter how right or true to God we may be, we are in the wrong and have given up humility to our pride of liberal correctness and sense of righteous indignation towards those who we see as weak and simple minded.

Huldreich Zwingli, the Swiss Reformer, knew this well.  In one treatise, he makes clear that true Christian love "demands that every one avoid that which can offend or vex his neighbor" for "One should make those of little faith strong in the faith."  In saying this, Zwingli reflects on Romans 14 and concludes that as Christians we should see to it that;

The weak is not to be allowed to remain weak, but is to be instructed in the truth, not with subtle arguments, by which one becomes more doubtful, but with the pure, simple truth, so that all doubt may be removed.

As Romans 15:1-2 says: We who are strong ought to put up with the failing of the weak, and not to please ourselves.  Each of us must please our neighbor for the good purpose of building up the neighbor.  This in mind, three things come to the surface:

1) Those who are weak and who need to be taught what the truth of Scripture is need to be given the truth.  Christ-followers guide each other through the trials and struggles of faith and into the places where very often we come to a conjuncture where little makes sense, where the Word of God causes internal clashing and a stockpile of sticky questions.  Those of us who have fought and wrestled with such conflicts and have been led by the Holy Spirit with Christ as our guide must, as he did, do unto others and guide them as gently and meekly as we were guided.

2) Those who are strong and who need to teach this truth need to be meek and emulate Christ in this teaching.  It is uncalled for and frankly quasi-demonic to force anything, even if it be the truth, down people's throats with no concern that they may be choking on such premises.  If one truly believes that Christ has called women to be ordained ministers of the Word and truly feels called to bring that to the fruition of God's Kingdom, then why would they ever scandalize and call into question such truth through their pompous actions?  To truly teach the truth means, as Zwingli said, not the sweeping charge of an army of self-righteous hipsters, but instead the humility and compassion of Jesus Christ.

3) In bearing the failings, or the 'infirmities', of the weak, neither side is to act with the pride of assumption their their opinion and belief is the end-all of dialogue and testing of one's belief.  NEVER should one's faith and belief come to a standstill of scrutiny and inquiry as long as one does so in prayer and in light of what Christ has done on the cross.  We should always be seeking how we may become more true, more aligned, and more conformed to Jesus Christ through his Word and through his work in us. As Barth writes in his Epistle to the Romans:

We ought to bear the infirmities of the weak...Should we, whilst appearing to bear their infirmities, secretly rejoice in our strength and freedom?  But that is not to bear infirmity.  After all, the New Testament is not a theatre.  The bearing of infirmity is a wholly existential occurrence; it is a genuine being-weak with the weak. 

Thus, if we truly feel that Scripture and the Holy Spirit have revealed truth to us, and this truth is not dependent primarily on culture, on social norms, on the popular trends of the day, but are based on the Word of God, then we who may understand this truth are called not to force adherence to other Christians, but are to walk along their struggle.  We are not to chastise such weakness; contrary, we are to walk alongside the weak and share their weakness and re-enter wrestling with our faith alongside them, doing so in complete humility knowing that we will never know all the answers.

Conflict is always a plenty.  Between Rob Bell's supposed "universalism" and the constant burdens of Christian history there are an endless supply of such clashing points.  The question is not, first and foremost, who is closer to the right; the question is are we placing our firm foundation on Christ?  Are these clashes merely individual beefs of immovable objects, or are we truly engaging the truth with our feet planted firmly on Jesus Christ?  Too often, we concentrate on the sweeping issues which cause discontent and disassociation.  Yet, how often do we ignore the basic root of our faith, the hope for eternity, and the love which unconditionally reaches out to us even in our perpetual bickering?  We can catch all the Blue Marlin we want, but without the basic license we will get no farther than whence we started.  In the same, no mater how deeply and dearly we wish to change our world, our church, and our society it means next to nothing if such change, liberation, and movement isn't founded upon the Word of God and the beautiful and terrifying act of Jesus Christ on the cross.  Until that moment, all the rest is mere vainglory.

Doubts

What do you do in days of doubt?

Today I've been confronted with it, with doubts about who I am, with who we are as Christians, and even who the God we serve truly is.  Christianity is can be easy and often nearly painful at time.  But what kind of Christianity is that? 

What kind of faith do we have when we refuse to question the scripture we read, the practices we follow, and the problems of the world?  Many do this, sealing themselves off from the world and the many problems having faith in Christ brings.  They avoid what they find are the "hollow and deceptive philosophies" of the world which are based solely on "human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of the world" and doing so can tip-toe around the many accusations and inquiries the world has to offer.  You don't have to deal with the constant disbelief of scientists when science is considered invalid.  You don't have to argue about the vicious violence of the Old Testament or the possibility of the existence of God if you just hold to your own set of presumptions and count all others as bunk and godless paganism.  To wall up behind a castle of impenetrable walls which separate from the world is safe, comfortable, easy to say the least.  Yet how is one truly serving their God from such a point?  How can one reach out to the hurting, the poor, and the brokenhearted from behind such a wall?   Sure, one's dogma and doctrine stay perfectly safe, without a scratch, but does such an attitude really even open one up to the true nature of God revealed in scripture?  Does it allow the creator of this universe to truly reach his hand out to us and open our eyes to his many graces beyond the grasp of our fragile and feeble minds?

Christianity is safe when you have no risks to take.  Christianity is also easy when you take in everything.  So often if we're not one extreme, we're the other.  If we're not denying the existence of any other thought process other than our own, we're busy embracing without second thought any thought or idea that comes along, slapping a Jesus sticker on it, and calling it Christianity.  It's perfect; politically correct and non-distinguishable from anyone else in order not to provoke or offend anyone.  It's safe, it's kind, but such a Christianity is little more than a Christ-sponsored "nice club" where wrong and right are nothing more than personal preferences, truth is as you see it, and each may have their own and mix and match what they wish, as long as such a set of beliefs is without ignorance or exclusiveness.  Thus, Christian faith becomes little more than whatever we want it to be and God becomes nothing less than our own personal construct made in our own image of what we feel God should be, in our own terms and ideas.  Religion is nothing more than an aspect of culture and thus, we worship nothing else than culture and perpetual niceness towards others.

Christianity is hard, never easy.  When Christ says in Matthew 7 that "small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life" he isn't talking about the moral or ethical straight and narrow, but about the road to the life of the kingdom; the life in Christ.  What's so interesting here is that right after this quote, Jesus warns the crowds about false prophets; those who mislead in sheep's clothing but "inwardly are ravenous wolves (vs. 15)".  The Greek adjective for 'ravenous' is the word harpeges, the same word describing the ancient mythological winged-beasts the Harpies.  The root of the word literally means 'kite' or 'hawk' but in this form comes to mean one who greedily snatches away something of value, like a hawk snatches a mouse of prey.  Thus, in a world which attacks us as such there seems to be only two options here: we can forever hide from the vicious questions and problems the world throws at our faith and lock ourselves in, or we can abandon any and all pieces of offense and "silliness" of our faith and turn it into nothing more than a mystical philosophical view or a symbolic social motivator for ethics.

Or, we can take the narrow path, the hard path, and in the face of oppression on all sides of us, we can claim that which many call pure and utter foolishness (I Corinthinas 1:18-31) and stand in faith.  To say such a stand is hard is truly an understatement.  In a world which is turned upside down Christianity has become archaic, silly, religious mumbo-jumbo which has no bearing or meaning in this world.  It follows a God-man who died and was raised from the dead in some minute Palestinian city; it is chocked full of blood-curdling stories of angry armies, famines and floods, and horrible atrocities all in the name of God; worse of all, this very God supposedly loves us, wants to take care of us, and says we're his.

When put this way, faith seems hopeless, meaningless, pointless.

Yet, we cannot give up hope.  We cannot fall into easy Christianity nor give up altogether in this walk.  Psalm 142 pleads to the Lord, even the in midst of troubles, even in the midst of the hidden traps of the wicked.  The Psalmist cries out for he has been "brought very low" (vs. 6).  Yet, there is trust, there is hope that the Lord "will deal bountifully with me" (vs. 7).  In darkness, in the most hopeless of all moments, when despair has settled into the very core of our being; God is there.

To stand in faith is not done by us; we could never handle such on our own.  To stand in faith is not merely a cultural label, a bumper sticker, or an ethical attitude.  To stand in faith means that we stand against injustice and cruelty, that we stand for the creator of the universe who came all the way down to die for all the humans he so loves, and that we stand with each other, even in the midst of disagreement and strife.  Moreover, we stand supporting each other in the midst of doubt, despair, and the clutches of hopelessness.  True faith, genuine faith, faith which does not either lock itself in a philosophically "safe" fortress or simply go with the flow of society, is faith which truly seeks the mystery and love of God even in the pain of its questions.  It, as Oswald Chambers said, steps out past the point where our beliefs were sitting to the realm of faith in the unknown and hope in the one who we see on the other side of the divide.  Such faith struggles with the violence of the Old Testament and the claim of a loving God and tries not to explain away the violence by proof-texts nor ignore it, but with effort and struggle digs through the people and the age where the Old Testament comes from and in doing sees the God of the cross in the midst of the tangled mess of humanity.

I am a follower of Christ and I doubt, often sometimes.  Yet I know even in this doubt, my brothers and sisters, that even the darkest of places and in the vapor of unanswered prayers, unresolved questions, and painful dreams that there is One who knows so much exceedingly more than I ever could in this simple mind of mine.  He has a plan for this world and I truly hope that my daily life conforms to this plan even on the days when I struggle to even believe much less serve.  And as I may wish at times for the easy road, I surely know that faith is never easy; if it was, it wouldn't be called faith, but my Savior is good, so good, and even in our darkness he calls to us saying "Come, my yoke is easy, my burden is light" (Matthew 11:30)

For those of you hurting, suffering, feeling as if there is no hope, may prayers are with you.  I love you 

Preparation

Study without Piety is worthless - Jacob Spener  Pia Desideria


There Cheers for our queer old dean! - William Archibald Spooner

The experimental composer and singer-songwriter Tom Waits will always have a special place in my heart (this very blog is, in fact, named after one of his many insightful song lyrics).  As a younger artist back in the mid 70's Waits' music was somewhat of a cross between piano ballads and folk-tinted jazz, often floridly filling his live shows with flowing dialogue about seedy characters and craggy late-night diners.  After a few albums and a decent amount of success on the nightclub scene Waits began drinking heavily which became blatantly apparent in his music and his oft befuddled stage presence.  It was during one of these shows that Waits staggered out this muddled one-liner:

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

Clever or confused, either way its worth a sad laugh at what Waits later called in his more sober years a picture of a decrepit circus clown.  However, Waits can't take full credit for such a phrase, indeed the English construction was around before Waits was even the figment of imagination...

William Archibald Spooner was a Dean at Oxford in the early part of the 20th century.  He was a short man with a big head and a moderate case of Albinism but with a mind more brilliant than almost anyone else in the British Isles at that time.  Sadly, more often than not, Spooner's mind worked much faster than his mouth, often producing slip-ups which were nothing short of hilarious (if not utterly embarrassing).  These "spoonerisms", as they are now called, often involved the shifting of letters to form senseless phrases such as "It is kisstomary to cuss the bride" (It is customary to kiss the bride) or, my favorite, "Such Bulgarians should be vanished" (such vulgarians should be banished).

A brilliant man nonetheless, but a man whose mind often in his brilliance strayed fervently.  Letters of Spooner would request individuals to his office to settle some issue, only to have a postscript at the end of the letter saying that the matter had already been resolved.  In fact, Spooner even once preached an entire sermon about one of the letters of St. Paul, only to have substituted "Aristotle" for Paul.  It was only after preaching the entire sermon and descending from the pulpit before he finally paused, returned to the pulpit and said to his terribly confused congregation "Did i say Aristotle? I meant St. Paul" before finally returning to his seat.  Even more embarrassing was at a royal dinner where his toast for the queen ended in the same manner; saluting the "queer old dean" instead of her highness, the dear old queen.

Ouch.

Recently the question arose from one of my peers what were supposed to be doing here at Princeton.  Many nights end in fruitful and edifying discussion of theology, philosophy, and the many aspects of serving the Kingdom of Christ in a manner which is worthy and pleasing to our Lord and Savior.  Yet, he confided in me, how is this discussion, as verdant as it is, truly serving our Lord in spiritual acts of worship?  How are we truly practicing the life of Jesus upon this earth locking in babbling discussion when the world is in such dire need of the gospel?  Are we truly filling our purpose in each and every moment?


Preparation is important, but no so important that our entire life should be for that purpose.  Preparation is a means, never an end.  It is always anticipating a future, a goal, a trial, an event, a hope, a fear, a coming promise.  Yet even in the hard work of preparing ourselves for our spiritual acts of worship, the harder work is often the overcoming of the temptation to buckle down rather than jump to action.  We can study and meditate, ponder and conceptualize, theorize and discuss and dialogue until our faces turn blue and we hit our beds with a false sense of accomplishment as if we truly have been such "good and faithful servants."

God is good, so good that such pious activity and service pale in comparison to the grace of God which extends its healing and salvific hand as a balm to the burning guilt and torment of our sins.  Yet, to truly understand this gift of grace, to truly understand this hope of redemption and resurrection, to truly feel the love selflessly displayed on the cross we must become like Him.  It is when we finally allow the grace of God to truly sanctify and heal our broken selves and put away our foolish individuality and pride that we can finally witness the world through the eyes of the one who gave it all for us.

How differently we would view the world if we stopped mixing up our priorities, if we could somehow see the world not for it's bottom-lines, top-dollars, and its onslaught of flash and pizazz and could simply see even the tiniest of moments for its complete and utter significance.  How differently this world would look if it was viewed not through the jumbled Spoonerism that is our pride and the trinkets we grasp so stringently to and we began to let the Holy Spirit take control and put our preparation and our study to use.

If only such a world were easier to see...

Love each other, pray often, reflect your Savior

A Penny For Your Thoughts

"The Penny is a dying breed!"  Oh the humanity!  If only the pair of weathered, tristful Lincolns I swiped off the chilled walkway under Blair Hall  knew how endangered their very existence truly was.  Sadly, I can't really argue the bureaucratic motion to axe the beloved fiscal mainstay.  The current one-cent piece actually costs almost two cents to produce and any penny minted prior to 1982 is worth more in its weight in copper than it's given monetary value (talk about throwing money away).   In fact, the penny is little more than a jar-bound, minutely meaningful token which rarely sees the light of the average business transaction. More often than not they become delegated to the sidewalk or Barnes and Noble parking lot where even the most entrepreneurial of 6 year-olds selectively ignores them, finding the act of bending over is worth much more than even a handful of the little guys.

As I was writing this I suddenly remembered that I myself had a collection of copper cents slurred around my desk area.  After about 5 minutes of extended effort and detailed digging I scrounged up around a $1.17.  Not bad to be honest.  A penny may not (literally) be worth its weight, but a buck seventeen...that's a different story.  That's a cup of gas station coffee, a pack of Sour Patch Kids, maybe even a pack of gum.  I've always wondered what kind of glances I'd get paying for something in all pennies, I'm sure some of you may know what such glares and eye-rollings may look like.

What are we to do with these now-irrelevant pieces of "ancient history"?  Ohio Representative Zach Space proposed a couple years back that the US Mint begin production of copper-coloured, steel pennies in order to cut production costs, which would save the US Government over 500 million dollars in 10 years.  Francois Velde suggests that the US change the monetary value of the coin from one cent to five cents.  Many have even suggested the removal of the cent altogether; suggesting we round our prices to the nearest nickel.  Regardless, even the most pragmatic and utilitarian of solutions still leaves a hoard of brooding questions: how will one be able truly offer a "penny for one's thoughts"?  Is "a penny saved" truly a "penny earned" if it becomes little more than an archaic artifact?  Further, will our nickel face the same face as our good friend the penny?  Is Thomas Jefferson next on the list of axed currency?  What a tragedy!  As if it wasn't cruel enough to cut the two-dollar bill out of circulation!

It's easy today to cut out what doesn't fit the bottom line, and understandably so.  Every day new stories come out of factories shutting down, public resources being dried up, and hundreds of opinions of just how, or when, the economic shortfalls may be fixed.  Though the term may soon be obsolete we are in a time where the "penny-pincher" thrives.  Just yesterday night a new report flashed across the screen; Camden, New Jersey lets go of one half of its police force, Detroit is shutting down almost one third of their public school system, and many other places are facing similar fates.  It makes one wonder if a penny does make a difference when such massive deficits exist.

Once, there was a woman, a widow, who like many of us, was feeling the stifling effects of the current situation.  She lived in a decaying, one-room apartment.  Her furniture was meager at best, hunched over like the woman herself.  She was in her upper sixties, maybe older, with the weight of nearly fifty years of hard work bearing heavily on the corners of her somewhat hallowed face.  Covering herself in simple garb, she slowly scuffled down the sidewalk past what used to be a thriving neighborhood, now sterile and silent as the factories surrounding this specific block of any large metropolitan area you can name.  She ventured into a large cathedral, Anglican or Episcopal or Presbyterian or something along those lines, as the daily Sunday crown adorned in heavy jackets scuffled to their lives, leaving her alone down the long aisle towards a pile of empty offering plates.  Looking over her shoulder with a tint of embarrassment she quietly placed a handful of odd change out of pocket, a few quarters, some dimes, a nickel or two, and a handful of pennies, and with a solemn sight slowly trodded her way out.

It was outside that she saw Jesus awaiting her on a nearby bench.  With an understanding nod he ushered her forward to the empty seat to his right.  With much effort she slunk onto the bench as he spoke with kindness "My dear, thank you so much for the gift, I love it."  She shrugged sadly as she loosened her straggled grip on her scarf.  "My Lord, it was honestly nothing.  I'm ashamed its all I had.  I haven't given in months, I'm so sorry, its just times are touch, too tough.  What I got left is barely enough to pay for food, much less...well...." Her voice drifted into melancholy and then into silence. 

"Truly my dear, you have put more into that place than all the others who filed out of these doors today."  He smiled "indeed the heartfeltness of your gift truly was a gift. "  (Mark 12)

No penny is insignificant, no moment too mundane, and no person unable to serve.  Our offerings of worship go beyond mere bottom lines or percentages; true worship is true conformity and true conformity does not focus on whether one's task and purpose in the moment is of momentous significance.  The Christian life is one where the grace of God flows not only into the most public of squares, but even more so into the cracks and crags where no one else dares, or cares, to venture.  It is the type of worship which dares to reach out to the marginalized, attempts to let faith move us where we dare not to go ourselves, and shuns even the most vicious and vivid of our temptations.  It sheds off the shield of individuality and puts on the personhood which God always intended us to be and, in doing so, offers worship to the one who created all things.  One of the truest expressions of faith is to reach beyond our own cosmic expectations and venture into the near-meaningless for it is there that the work of God truly finds significance.

The Kingdom of God is a kingdom unlike any other; where the first shall be last, the weak shall be strong, and even the common penny carries innumerable weight.

What Grows On The Moon?

A local pastor recently attempted an essentially simple metaphor during one of his sermons.  In the midst of passionately declaring to his congregation that "God is light and in Him there is no darkness at all" he tied on the fact that nothing can grow or flourish in the darkness.  He brandished his metaphor with florid verbs and flourished his adjectives for dramatic affect.  He announced that we only see one half of our moon; the half which is consistently illuminated by the light of the sun.  The other half, the half facing away from the earth, is always in perpetual darkness (the dark side of the moon for those Pink Floyd fans out there).  It was then, with an air of self-appreciated brilliance, that he exclaimed that on this "dark side" of the moon, there was no life.  There were no vineyards, there were no gardens or palm trees, there were no rolling hills or trickling streams.  All that existed was darkness; nothing could grow on the dark side of the moon. 

Then again, nothing can grow on the light side either.  Oops.

That's the thing about the moon and outer space; things just don't grow there.  Sure, you Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek junkies might dispute this, but last time I checked Mars was still desolate, Venus a foaming fireball of gas, and Pluto a cosmic ice chunk.  Outer space is a very inhospitable place, regardless of light.

It's this inhospitality towards life in general which has always left me with a subtle fear of outer space.  Whenever movies like Apollo 13 grace the television screen once every couple years I can't help but marvel at how only a thin layer of titanium allow and heat paneling separates the astronaut from certain peril.  Even more so, I admire those brave individuals, who with roborant daring venture outside the ship into the chaotic unknown, tied to the ship by a mere cable.  One snap, one cascading piece of space trash, one misguided movement and you're walking Spanish, pushing daisies, slowly suffocating towards a cold and lonely demise.


Space is a cold place; a frigid nothingness whose as tender as a cactus, as cuddly as a crocodile, and as nurturing and cordial as a pack of coyotes is for a wounded deer.  It is a place of such desolate solitude and utter lifelessness that even the energy and warmth of the sun can't change its fruitless essence  Nothing grows on the moon, and for good reason at that.

Light means very little in a world where nothing could grow to begin with.  How lucky we are to live on this green, lush planet, a fertile cradle teeming forth with life both big and small.  How jaw-dropping the intricate beauties, the incomprehensible wonders, the majesty and sheer art gracing each crevice and nook, every crag and peak, the very depths of the ocean and the vast grandeur of the burgeoning forest.  The warmth of the sun, the complexity of our atmosphere, the invaluable properties of the water which composes our oceans, lakes, and rivers; how hospitable a rock we live on!

How hospitable a God we have.  Oft we forget, oft we drift on glued intently on our individual lives without the slightest whim of the ground we tread upon, the sky we bask under, or the sheer mass of living things abundantly gracing our surroundings.  In Genesis, God created and it was good, in the Psalms we hear extolling praise for the wonders, and in Christ we see just how far-extending and passionate the Creator's love truly is for His creation. 

It makes me wonder, in this benevolent light are we truly providing the atmosphere for that light truly create growth, to nurture those around us towards the revelation of Christ through the grace of God?  Are we lush soil awaiting planting or are we solitary rocks, drifting through the frigid emptiness of space?  Am I truly willing and able to be a catalyst for change in His kingdom or am I merely an empty space?
 
The moon is about as inhospitable place as you can find, but I'm pretty sure quite a few of us give it a run for its money.  God's light is surely bright beyond comprehension, but we stubborn creatures can sure find new and imposing ways to cancel out the good news and suffocate it into a mere datum of niceness to others and a loose moralism.  How many of us have hindered the light of God in the life of others with our stifling and smothering?  How many of our actions have all but crippled the work of God in even the most minute and insignificant acts? 

Some scientists have said that someday we might live on the moon.  That's a scary thought, though intriguing.  Could such a inanimate satellite really support life?  If so, maybe there's even hope for us.  Maybe the light of Christ may even be able to crack through the asphyxiating shells of our individuality and touch the very depths of our person hood.  Perhaps even our deepest wounds and hurts are reachable.  The only way we will ever know is to take that leap of faith, to venture outside the safety of galactic ships and seek the light, to trust that the nurturing of the Holy Spirit can overcome even the most stubborn of hearts.

In the meanwhile, I think I'll keep my feet on this good, green earth and let those folks down at NASA take care of the outer space stuff.