Ravens

Category: reviews

  • A review of Seven Deadly Spirits

    In so many discussions and conversations on the nature of the church in our era (or any era) there is a curious reality that is almost always left out. Curious not because it is of minor importance or an extraneous component. Rather, because it seems so utterly vital to the nature of the church and is so absolutely a part of the Biblical discussion, and yet is still far too often ignored, even in so-called mystical or hyper-spiritual congregations.

    This reality involves the spiritual context of a particular congregation, and it is precisely what John wrote about in the beginning of Revelation.

    In his book Seven Deadly Spirits, Scott Daniels writes, “that real change takes place in the church not simply by altering the visible structures of the institution, such as changing pastoral staff, instituting new programs, or modifying the style of worship, but by altering the spirit or core essence of the entity as a whole… I am convinced that the genius of the letters in Revelation is John’s underlying recognition that complete change cannot occur without naming, describing, and calling to account the collective spirit of the church.”

    In other words, so much of church growth or renewal has been about addressing the symptoms or changing the decorations. This is the old analogy of rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, all while completely ignoring the fact there’s an iceberg and a major gash in the hull that is causing the ship to sink. Daniels moves us deeper past the usual church growth topics, which so often want to jump into the newest model or develop the flashiest program, rather than really assessing the specific contexts of a congregation or neighborhood.

    Daniels is not here emphasizing spirits as in some kind of evil, outside malevolent force. Rather, he is emphasizing that a spirit of a church is a collective spirit that reflects the people — present and past — who have influenced that setting. This spirit “that emerges from a congregation is formed by a unique combination of human action, institutional history, and cultural influence. The corporate spirit that emerges in every church captures the hopes, fears, and horizons of imagination for a congregation.” This emphasis on a collective human spirit does not discount broader spiritual realities, but it does put the emphasis precisely where it needs to be, where the Bible itself points us. In our choices and temptations and overall approaches to life we can reflect the Spirit of God, or we can choose to participate in another expression of spirit, one that reflects chaos and corruption. Every church, it seems, like every person has a different kind of temptation or tendency, but these differences can be loosely gathered together in common themes.

    Daniels uses the letters to the churches that we find in Revelation as a model of understanding the various kinds of temptations and spirits that can take hold of church, and in doing this he gives us insights and direction on how to best understand the specific issues and then how we can move to best respond in a way that recreates a church spirit.

    Here is his outline:
    * Ephesus: The Spirit of Boundary Keeping
    * Smyrna: The Spirit of Consumerism
    * Pergamum: The Spirit of Accommodation
    * Thyatira: The Spirit of Privatized Faith
    * Sardis: The Spirit of Apathetic Faith
    * Philadelphia: The Spirit of Fear
    * Laodicea: The Spirit of Self-Sufficiency

    Understanding how these various spirits affect and undermine particular communities is essential to really respond to broken or confusing contexts. But more than learning about these spirits, Daniels writes, “the redeeming of the deadly spirit of a church can only fully be achieved as we also learn how to embody the Scriptures in community.” And it is this fuller picture, not only of diagnosis but also of hope and promise that really fills out this excellent, readable, and enlightening text.

    It should also be noted that Daniels is not a removed spectator, writing only in terms of theory. His own experiences as a pastor have shown him the highs and lows of these spirit realities. And his recent experience in helping turn a large church away from a season of brokenness and difficulty to a renewing place of health and light suggests that what he is writing about is something he has put into practice, and continues to apply to specific contexts.

    Seven Deadly Spirits is the sort of book that may not have the widest audience, but it is, I think, very widely needed. I would go as far to say as this is a book that should be required reading by every new pastor or seminary student, as it orients both their expectations and their own tendencies to let go these undermining spirits and re-embrace the holistic Spirit of life. But more than these pastoral leaders, I think anyone involved in a church would greatly benefit by reading through this text, as it helps to really understand why we often experience, or contribute to, negative realities within a church setting. By naming the spirits for what they are, both leaders and those in the congregations, can begin to respond and overcome these tendencies, with the help of the Spirit who calls us, and empowers us, to live out in full the life that Christ has given to us. The Lord “stands at the door and knocks, inviting us to be open to his renewed life with us.”

  • Adventures in the Spirit part I

    These days I’m up to my eyeballs in reading. This makes sense given the fact that I’m now in a PhD program taking a particularly PhD sort of class–Theological Methods. Basically, this is a class on how people write, or “do”, theology. We look at different theologians and discuss how they approach this huge, huge topic. People who are not close to reading academic theology might think this is an odd endeavor. How does one differ in studying God and speaking about who God is?

    There are a lot of ways and these ways come from a lot of directions, with a lot of purposes, and a lot of emphases and interests. Not all are equal, mind you, but that’s not to say there are clearly wrong ways that interfere with the Right way, even if that’s what certain pastors like to imply (the Right way being their way, of course).

    That there are many ways to express theology is easily shown by the very foundations of our faith. Scripture itself tells us of God from many different perspectives and eras, looking through many different perspectives in different contexts, and relates to us God’s revelation and human interaction in a wide variety of styles.

    There is not a Right method to studying or conveying theology. But there are wrong foundations or goals or approaches that don’t always directly oppose Christian foundations but undermine it in an attempt to make sense to other goals or purposes. The former cheerleader who wants to cozy up to the newly rich nerd.

    This was the charge against Liberal theology, the sort of theology that began with a man named Schleiermacher and continued on into our present era. Here the emphasis is less on foundations and more on making sense to our personal experiences and to the experiences of others, assuming that theology has to give up what are considered outdated assumptions in order to provide some measure of influence and inspiration. But in doing that, as history shows, theology is so gutted as to be even less necessary and even less interesting for anyone to converse about. So open minded there’s no worthwhile thought left that can’t be found a hundred other places.

    Now, saying this now I’m being particularly unfair to Philip Clayton and his book Adventures in the Spirit: God, World, Divine Action, which I’m looking at for the Transforming Theology initiative. Because I’m not saying this is true about his efforts. Mostly, I’m just musing about the context of theological interaction with broader fields, and the mines that have been found. Whether or not Clayton himself wanders the same field is yet to be discovered. I’m hopeful, truth be told, because of the helpful insights of recent theologians which have broken down the old Liberal/Conservative divide and allow us to wander towards a newly cleared field towards a more substantive theological contribution to this world.

    I’m coming at this as a curious kind of Evangelical, one who still embraces the category but with the understanding that not all Evangelicals would embrace me. Inasmuch as Evangelicalism doesn’t have room for my sort, however, I argue that those places are where Evangelicalism has gotten off track rather than me. I’ve got all my Evangelical bona fides lined up, and would argue this more, but that’s not the present concern.

    From this perspective, I am going to go chapter by chapter of Clayton’s book. Because of my present reading load, that includes a major paper due in a couple weeks, I’m not going to be very systematic about it, and hope others might better outline his quite interesting contributions. Instead, I’m going to take a more lectio divina approach. Read a bit, muse over it a bit, then write whatever comes to mind. And throughout I’m going to be asking a response of sorts to Clayton’s own recent contribution. What can Evangelicals learn from Philip Clayton? I suspect a lot.

    And, once again, I’ve made a post of introduction rather than getting to the meat of it.

    I need to do less musing and more interaction… that comes next.

  • Adventures in Theology

    A little bit ago I signed on with a relatively new project called Transforming Theology.

    Since that is certainly an interest of mine, I thought it might be worthwhile to see how others view this and how they are going about it.

    On their blog, one of the key participants, Philip Clayton, gives a little bit of explanation and description of what they are about.

    Well worth watching, I think.

    The timing of this has been, for me, quite good. Especially given that I’m now taking a theological methods class, with Nancey Murphy and not long ago read her most interesting book Anglo-American Postmodernity. Especially interesting now because it gives a rather helpful framework for my understanding this new venture. Indeed, I’d recommend, again, my overview of her chapters on religious thought as quite helpful reading.

    To give a real quick summary, it has been standard in theological and ecclesial conversations to label a particular theologian or theology as either Liberal or Conservative. This was not just a simple task of convenient categorization. It was, for the most part, an accurate description of assumptions and methods. There were distinctions within each of these camps, but for the most part there were different rules, presuppositions, approaches and dialogue in each that really maintained two distinct strands of theology for the last centuries, and especially the last 100 years.

    For those of us engaged in theological thought it was also an easy way to figure out friend vs. foe. Though not always successfully. I remembering as a young student at Wheaton trying to figure out whether I should like or dislike Barth. He said so many good things… but he was a “Liberal” according to my understanding of classification at the time.

    Over the last 50 years or so this pattern has been crumbling. Such labels might still be used but they are not really useful or altogether accurate, especially as they relate to distinct strands. Instead of there being hardened positions and assumptions there are convergences. Instead of there being an apparent choice between two opposite stances on key foundations, there are fluid positions along a spectrum of belief. This leads to a new approach of theology that can listen and learn and respect what other sides are saying without having to establish a friend or foe mentality.

    This isn’t to say there are no, or should be no, disagreements. There should be and there absolutely will continue to be.

    For me at least such a dialogue is not fruitful if it means merely watering down theology so as to make an agreeable stance that means nothing in heart or substance. It means engaging in dialogue with mutual respect so as to understand other positions, learn from them, and see how they can shape continuing thought, study and practice. This means, for me at least, not watering down, but indeed better understanding my own tradition and thoughts, communicating these as well as possible, sharpening them and thus being an able contributor.

    This contribution to theology has two main goals, as I’ve seen it. While each are important to an overall theological perspective they really have two distinct directions of focus and might be, in some ways, exclusive pursuits. The first direction is that of coherence. In this theology is asked to make sense both to itself and to the broader intellectual world. The pieces of its claims should fit together and theological conversation should be able to, it seems, have a connection with other forms of knowledge–especially as we maintain that God is the God of Truth.

    The second approach is that of integrity. Theology should mean something not only to academics and as a cogent philosophical system but also, and arguably more importantly, it should mean something to those living life as they experience it, with the hardships, struggles, concerns, and frustrations that life contains. A holistic theology should be able to speak both to those engaged in complicated intellectual pursuits and to the poor person who hasn’t eaten for two days.

    To give a picture to this, I see the pursuit of coherence as being the rear guard, protecting theology from being undermined by developed instabilities that are created either by its own lack of contemplation or by new forms of knowledge about this world from other places (i.e. the earth revolves around the sun). It is not primarily concerned with what theological issues might mean to the desperate person, but that does not mean it has no vital function. If theology collapses because of incoherence, there is no ability to speak to those who are the most desperate. They will have rejected it before tasting of its ability to offer deep solutions.

    That is, in a way, the state of Christianity in Europe and North America.

    Theology in the pursuit of integrity is on the front lines, in the trenches, embracing praxis and problems. Taking stock of people’s questions and situations, not always an academic approach in expression or discovery. It can often take the approach of what Dyrness has called a Vernacular theology–a theology that is expressed by the people as they live, rather than what the official doctrines might say. It might also take the approach of a academic style theology that begins with questions of friction and difficulties and is framed to response to these without particular note of inconsistencies or systematic development.

    Two theologians, I think, mark these two approaches particularly well, as they essentially began in much the same setting. Wolfhart Pannenberg exemplifies the pursuit of coherence, and Jürgen Moltmann exemplifies the pursuit of integrity. Like with the various foundational theological positions, this too is reflected on a spectrum rather than as two distinct choices.

    My own theological position would be best described as beginning from the conservative side of the spectrum, strongly developed in conservative churches and conservative institutions of learning, as they may still be accurately described. My own academic pursuits are now emphasizing Moltmann, emerging/missional church theology, and are concerned with how theology deals with questions of poverty, hardship, hurt, and frustration. In short, according to my framework, I start as a conservative with an interest in theological integrity.

    That’s my place in this attempt for theological conversation. And my task, as it begins, is an interesting one. Tripp Fuller, one of the key organizers of this Transforming Theology forum sent me a book by Philip Clayton to review called Adventures in the Spirit: God, World, Divine Action. Philip Clayton, as much as it would fit into my framework, would seemingly be coming from more the Liberal side of the spectrum with a strong interest in theological coherence, hence repeated references to Pannenberg at the beginning.

    My approach is to hopefully write on this book chapter by chapter. A single post review of the whole text might be easier and quicker, but it would not, I think be as helpful overall to the broader dialogue. Instead of trying to give a judgment, my hope is to make notes along the way that would illustrate how this book contributes to people no matter where on the spectrum they are. I also hope to make his contributions more readily approachable by those without theological training or interest in the more abstruse aspects of theological and philosophical coherence.

    I hope to write on what this work means to me and how the core ideas might be helpful to the people I know. That I do this without a proper background in either philosophy or science brings humility to this task and likely will shape the sophistication, or lack thereof, of my comments.

    That’s my introduction to this new task of mine. Look for the posts to pop up periodically for the next few weeks.

  • Righting the Mother Tongue

    Sorry for the lack of posts. I’ve been in the Portland area for the last couple of weeks, getting many wedding tasks done and enjoying a nice time with Amy before Fall entirely monopolizes my schedule. That, and there was sad personal news this past week that has pressed on my mind, that I can’t quite get around to writing about.

    For now… a book review:

    Spelling is yet another reason why I’m so glad I was born in America. Maybe not the most pressing reason, or the most important, but it sure has made my life a lot easier. Because I grew up with English, learned to read and write before my mind became aware of the presence of absurdity.

    English has a lot of absurdity in it. Though, I notice now that absurdity itself makes a lot of sense–as it is spelled like it sounds. Not so much many other of our million words. Why through? Why threw? Can’t we just write thru? No, that last one is wrong, even if it is the most right. Right isn’t right in English, otherwise right would be rite, or riyt, or… well, it’s hard getting sounds into symbols, and people have a lot of different conceptions on how to best do that. When people come from other parts of the world, and from other kinds of languages, and from varied classes then spelling itself is cobbled together over the centuries to some vaguely agreed upon standard.

    Vaguely, because spelling is more like a glacier than granite. It flows, and picks up all kinds of junk along the way.
    Righting the Mother Tongue: From Olde English to Email, the Tangled Story of English Spelling is the story of this flow over time. David Wolman tells a fluid tale of why English is the way it is. After finishing the book, I may not always like English spelling, but now at least I understand where our American ‘u’ went in colour, or what happened to many an ‘e’, and even why that frustrating gh shows up to add complexity to what should be a simple word like thru or thot.

    It really does make sense, and Wolman shares the story in an immensely readable and approachable way. His background is in magazine writing, and this book certainly reflects a winsome and vibrant style.

    The early expectation I had was this would be a spelling version of the great grammar success Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation. It’s not really. For one thing, Wolman isn’t particularly a spelling fanatic. In fact, he admits early on to being a rather bad speller. So, his goal isn’t to reform the spelling world nor to bring a renewed spelling emphasis upon our email and text laden communication. Instead, he’s wanting to explore the topic of spelling without any kind of real goal.

    Righting the Mother TongueHe’s not emphasizing a wrong or a right. He’s telling a story. The frame of this story seems to be the repeated attempts at spelling reform that happen every so often. Each of these attempts seeks to make more simple what is admittedly quite tangled. Only the attempts to make it simple are themselves tangled, and never really able to push for lasting reform.

    Our spelling might be peculiar, but it’s our spelling and we apparently like it. No matter what Dewey and the rest might say about it.

    However, this doesn’t mean all spelling reforms are entirely without accomplishment, and indeed that is the history of English itself–periodic revolutions that have established segments of spelling tradition. Old English meets French. The printing press insists on some uniformity and also space–meaning letters are left out because there’s just no more room. Dr. Johnson deploys his immense intellect to standardize spelling while Noah Webster deploys his in order to help differentiate Americans from Brits.

    All along there are twists and turns, none really entirely transforming the language as a whole, but most leaving marks, scars maybe, that result in absurd piecing together of letters and confused students of the language.

    The book tells the tale well, though it does seem that Wolman could have added a bit more history to the story. I got the feeling he ran out of historical material about a hundred pages in, but wanted a 200 page book. We jump quickly to the 20th century and spend a bit more time than necessary on present movements that are insisting on spelling changes. The book bogs down a bit when Wolman breaks the narrative for his own Dave Barry sounding field trips. But, get past these sections and the story continues onwards.

    I quite enjoyed Righting the Mother Tongue and heartily recommend it to lovers of words, patrons of good spelling, and teachers of all ages who will finally be able to answer, “Why colonel?”

  • The Unnameables

    I’ve realized over the years that I’m a peculiar reader. Peculiar in that I’m not entirely sure what will and what will not strike my fancy, especially my fiction fancy. I’m not a literature snob, reading only the Great Books, but neither do I seem easily contented to wander the wide fields of whole genres. Which makes it difficult for me to find books that really swallow me up, even as that’s one of the great pleasures of my life since I was very young. So, it was with a rare delight that I enjoyed reading The Unnameables by Ellen Booraem.

    First the description, then a little review.

    Medford lives on a neat, orderly island called—simply—Island.

    Islanders like names that say exactly what a thing (or a person) is or does. Nothing less.

    Islanders like things (and people) to do what their names say they will. Nothing more.

    In fact, everything on Island is named for its purpose, even the people who inhabit it. But Medford Runyuin is different. A foundling, he has a meaningless last name that is just one of many reminders that he’s an outsider. And, to make matters worse, Medford’s been keeping a big secret, one that could get him banished from Island forever.

    When the smelliest, strangest, unruliest creature Island has ever seen comes barreling right into his rigid world, Medford can’t help but start to question the rules he’s been trying to follow his entire life.
    A whimsical fantasy debut about belonging, the dangers of forgetting history, and the Usefulness of art, The Unnameables is one of the funniest stories of friendship you’ll ever read, with a cast of characters you’ll never forget.

    I’ll be honest. When I picked this book I did so because I thought it had an intriguing message of being yourself in midst of society’s attempt to define. After ordering it, but before receiving it, I began to get worried. Because it had an intriguing message of being yourself in midst of society’s attempt to define.

    That, I thought, is a sure recipe for a book that is beloved by teacher’s organizations, book award clubs, and other such fine folks who tend to see a message being much more important than story, writing, or imagination. In other words, where the moral of the story is so obvious it’s pretty much a given a book should be called unreadable.

    The UnnameablesI was wary.

    And I was pleasantly surprised.

    Booraem has accomplished a brilliant task, offering a story with a clear moral without being overbearing or blatant about it. Indeed, she helps create a unique world that echoes aspects of our own, but certainly has rather strong differences. Indeed, these strong differences make The Unnameables more of a fairy tale story rather than an attempt to show a direct picture into our society.

    As the story went on it we are pushed deeper into this world, caught up in the characters, some usual and some wholly unique. We quickly move past the expected “Footloose” plot where young, creative teenagers show the adults about having fun. Instead, the story moves deeper, where there is no generational line, and where we see a wonderful creative exploration of a society’s tradition, history, and culture.

    Booraem has a moral to the story, but is not preaching, nor is she drawing lines in the sand against religious, cultural, or other societal standards. What she is saying is be true to who you are, and this goes for those religions, cultures, and standards. It is when these standards have lost sight of their own foundations there is distortions, distortions which sadly then take over the whole movement.

    But even as I write that last paragraph I feel awkward, because that sounds so dry and ‘full of message’ like a heartwarming episode of our favorite family sitcom.

    It’s not that. It’s so much more enjoyable. Booraem has walked a very fine line in her writing giving us both a message while avoiding becoming overbearing. More than that, she has penned a very readable book. That’s why I gave it five stars. I realized not too far in that I kept wanting to come back to it, I couldn’t put it down, and I was for a long while absolutely lost in this story that has a wonderful mix of identity crisis, detective story, fantasy, and even humor.

    Honestly, this is one of those books that I think was marked as young adult fiction more because of the age of the main characters. It is directed towards those 10 and up, and probably would be more enjoyed by kids and adults who themselves have a creative, introverted, side they have felt punished for.

    Indeed, The Unnameables a great book for artists of all ages, and I highly recommend it as a fun read.

  • Livescribe Smartpen. Wow.

    As you probably know I’m part of Amazon Vine. They send me some stuff every month. I review it. That’s the deal. Everyone wins. Sometimes it’s almonds and dressing mix. Sometimes it’s good or mediocre books. Sometimes it’s useful software. This month was a pretty good one on the Vine. I got a Rosetta Stone French software package, an amazing treat since I have to learn French anyhow at some point in the next few years. I also got something even more amazing. Blew me away, because it’s the sort of thing that doesn’t even sound quite believable. The Livescribe Smartpen

    We all pretty used to technology promising something then having to deal with the fact the promise was more hype than reality. The manufacturers want to get us into a frenzy, thinking their product will revolutionize transportation, or entertainment, or phone calling. But, when the frenzy dies down it seems there are a lot of problems, and unfulfilled expectations that even eager fans will quietly admit are weaknesses.

    This is especially true with a product that seems so entirely revolutionary and different. It’s certainly too good to be true, right?

    So, let me start off by addressing that. The Livescribe is the real deal. It actually does what it says it can do. And it does it simply.

    The Smartpen works. And I’m not being hyperbolic when I say this might revolutionize note taking.

    I’m not in class now, so didn’t have a real world opportunity to test this out. Instead, I wanted to make sure I got the hang of it before I began to depend on it. I had a 48 minute lecture on mp3 on my desktop that I played over my speakers. I turned on the record feature of the smartpen and started taking notes. Two pages of notes are now completly linked to the audio. Tap any word on those pages and the pen will replay, either through the headset or through the speaker, the words being said when I was writing those particular words. Complex explanations can be saved with only a few words reference or a chart.

    This records the text and the audio, and allows it to be saved for future reference. Text, however, is too limited a word. Drawings, markings, formulas, whatever, can be also used.

    It really works. Amazing. I was suspect and then utterly surprised. It lives up to the hype. You can see examples of it on their website www.livescribe.com in the community section. Indeed, I posted my test on there, so you can follow along with Jerry Root’s lecture on CS Lewis while I take notes. Be sure to click different parts of the notes in order to jump to different parts of the lecture.

    Livescribe SmartpenMore than this it is expandable. New applications give it a wide potential. This potential is what is pushing me to give the Livescribe a hearty 5 stars. Because while it absolutely does what it says it does, some of the features are previews rather than full-blown capabilities, such as translation. Also, and this is key to me, as of right now the audio and text is limited to the livescribe software. While this software has an amazing ability to search for words that are written, allowing for searchable notes, it does not presently convert the writing to editable text. Meaning you can’t cut and paste. This is a feature being developed, however, so should be available before too long. I heard they are working on getting this out before Fall. There is also no integration with other programs such as OneNote. That too might come with third party applications that are being developed.

    The audio is better than one might expect. I have an Olympus digital recorder and the smartpen is far above that in audio quality, especially with the included headphones, though the speaker is surprisingly clear as well.

    The battery seems to be very long lasting. I spent most of the afternoon the other day playing around with this, listening to a full hour long lecture, and the battery meter went down about an eighth.

    The battery is not removable, which might lead to some issues later as these pens get older and the charge doesn’t hold as long.

    Overall, I’m amazed by this pen. It simply works and it works simply. The present features are going to revolutionize note taking by integrating full sound. The expanding potential of the smartpen as the manufacturer encourages 3rd party applications, means there is even more potential on the horizon. The cost is quite reasonable. Even the cost of the supporting products shows Livescribe is interested in getting these into the hands of as many people as possible rather than making an obscene profit off of accessories. For what you get, this is an amazing deal. It comes in a 1GB version, which records 100 hours of audio, and a 2GB version, which records 200 hours of audio, on top of all the digital text.

    This might become the most important tool for students since the notebook came out. Better than a laptop, for students and teachers, and much better than a regular pen. I’m extremely pleased and can’t wait to get back into the classroom.

  • Waiter Rant

    When Amy and I were at the Tea Room a couple weeks ago a man walked in with a small group and proceeded to raise a ruckus. He didn’t like the table they assigned. He didn’t like the next table. He got angry and firm, finally taking a table near the back despite the protest of the staff. Quite rude and quite thinking he was the only one in the restaurant.

    When he sat down his mother, who likely taught him such behavior, said, “First you give them a chance to do it right, then you help them do it right.”

    We laughed out loud. Their assumption of what they were owed did not disguise the fact they were merely boors.

    I’m glad I don’t have to deal with such people every day.

    But waiters and waitresses do.

    The author of Waiter Rant started out thinking he would like to help people as a priest. He began to study for the priesthood but left when the corruption and the scandals started getting too much. Had a degree in psychology and tried his hand in the mental health care business. Also corrupt and scandal-ridden. Stayed honest, got fired.

    Wandered around a little. His brother got him a job in a restaurant. Also corrupt and scandal-ridden, but at least there are no illusions. Stays a waiter. Moves to a nicer place. Begins to write about his experiences on a blog. Then in this book.

    That’s the background.

    Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip--Confessions of a Cynical WaiterThe book is a memoir of sorts, but not a typical kind. It’s anonymous. It also dwells on a particular setting and makes particular points along the way. It’s a memoir with a mission, and this is to illuminate the often hidden world of restaurants. The Waiter, as he is known, touches on important concepts such as management, illegal immigration, rude customers, good and bad service, holidays, waiter revenge, hygiene, and assorted other topics. Each chapter has a particular theme.

    Yet, these themes aren’t at all obvious at first. The writing is that good. The Waiter is brilliant at showing not telling, that tricky art that foils lesser writers. We are given a story, not a mere rant. He is descriptive, insightful, observing, and honest. The themes are held within an overall story that is his life, a life that has many twists and turns and disappointments.

    These disappointments and disillusionment become our boon, however. Because of his background, and his great capability, we are given a wonderful view into an often disguised world. The Waiter brings to bear not only his expertise at his profession, but also psychological and spiritual insights, making this book a surprising deep read. But never overbearing and certainly never self-righteous. The honesty sometimes ventures into the vulgar, but always understandably so. It’s not only the story of a man trying to find his way and providing great commentary as he goes. It’s also a manual of restaurant etiquette and personalities, becoming a mirror to our often unconsidered actions.

    This really is a great book, amazing insight and amazing writing throughout. Profound and readable, all while dwelling on often mundane issues. I’m going to be recommending this to most everyone I know.

    Now, I sort of wish he went back into the priesthood, or maybe tried out being a Protestant pastor. I can only imagine how good he would do looking at the convoluted world of church life. But, I suspect his mission is greater than that.

    He’s a waiter. He’s really a writer. And this book should be bought. Waiter Rant is a brilliant book. Ten stars if I could.

  • A Persistent Peace. An Autohagiography.

    Throughout Christian history there has been quite an interest in men and women who did great things, whether in this world or within their soul. These men and women weren’t seeking self-satisfaction. Rather, they were truly seeking God and his work in them and in this world. The interest in such people often insisted they be viewed as saints, objects of devotion if not worship. Biographies written were often filled with stories of great victories, moral pronouncements, heroic stands. Little was said that would suggest these people had real personal histories or daily struggles or lived in complex times.

    Glossing over the negatives, and thus the whole truth, these biographies were meant more as inspiration than history–inspiration for those already walking in their footsteps, devoted to the cause and method.

    A Persistent Peace: One Man’s Struggle for a Nonviolent World is such a book, though oddly enough not one written by a later disciple but rather written by the man himself, John Dear. This fact makes the book curious to review. I do not share his views on pacifism, yet I am sympathetic to them, and was very open to being convinced, enlightened and taught. I was curious how he formed his views, how he wrestled with the Catholic Church’s official teaching, and in general the overall story of a man who has been on the frontlines of peace protests for the last thirty years.

    I was disappointed, however. A Persistent Peace is a history of the icon, John Dear S.J, and even more the story of the names and places involved in the Peace movement since Reagan.

    But we never really get to know the man, John Dear. The gift of an autobiography is that we can see not only the events, but also the internal perspective, wrestling, frustrations, development of the subject. John Dear seems to open up, but often only in ways that bolster the sense of his superiority. People around him don’t understand him. They are bored or angry or confused. Dialogue is pontifications of his teaching to the ignorant, even hateful, opponents or less ignorant friends. This is coupled with a hero worship of sorts, in which Dear seems to reveal himself most by talking about the people he wants to be like. But, all throughout it seems a lot of the real John Dear remains hidden, hidden because it seems he is still unwilling to be truly transparent about who he is and where he came from.

    In the foreword, Martin Sheen writes, “I suspect that much of John’s character was formed, as it is for all of us, during adolescence, that critical period when every level of physical, emotional, physiological, sexual, and spiritual development begins to emerge.”

    I suspect this too. Only A Persistent Peace gives nothing of this. We begin with John in college at Duke. We are given only the barest glimpse of his family life, which is decidedly upper class and filled with powerful influences. Indeed, he mentions his father and mother only in passing again and again, often as sources of introductions for people he proceeded to lecture about peace issues.
    A Persistent Peace
    So, we don’t really ever get to see the man, only the image of the peace activist seeking the way of Jesus in this world as he sees it, fighting against the benighted masses who disagree, not only with the goal but also the method–public protest and nuisance. This is not a review to argue such tactics, however, I can’t help but think that being empowered because of arrests for public behavior is entirely different than the martyrs arrested for their message. Speaking the message is perfectly fine and accepted, a fact I think grates against those who seek to find identity within a pampered martyrdom.

    Because of this I was disappointed with the book. We are left with more of a polemic than a story, again and again told rather than shown. Which places me outside of the target audience, to be sure, which is almost certainly the choir of people who already celebrate the message, goals, and tactics of John Dear as being the true expression of a “faith that does justice”.

    Giving this a star rating was difficult even still, because I realize for many this is precisely what they want and need. Hagiographies were popular, and still are, because people need heroes presented in a certain light and need the empowerment that comes from seeing their causes as black and white, good versus evil. I give it three stars because I do not share the initial assumptions and was seeking a history of the man rather than a story of places, and celebrities, and events that make up the Peace movement. I wanted to learn about the man, not the symbol.

    Here is a quote that I think would best help readers to determine the worth of this book. John Dear upon arriving at the Pentagon says, “it was the center of death for the whole planet, its prime purpose to organize the empire’s killing sprees at the behest of the multinational corporations and their politicians.”

    If you agree with this, then you will see this as a five star book, speaking truth to power, and modeling heroic activism. If you disagree, you will find this book likely confirming what you like least about the Peace movement, even if you happen to agree with many of their ideals.

    This is not particularly an interesting or insightful autobiography. It compares poorly as such to the recent works by Jurgen Moltmann about his life in theology, A Broad Place: An Autobiography, or Billy Graham about his life in evangelism Just As I Am: The Autobiography of Billy Graham. Both were significantly more open and self-aware, maybe because both of these were written much later in their lives, after retirement and after perspective had given them added insights. Nor does this come near the masterpieces that are The Long Loneliness or The Seven Storey Mountain.

    This is a book for the choir. If you’re wearing the robes then have at it, enjoy it, for it is certainly written with passion. It is also a good history of the last decades of the Peace movement. In fact, I wish Dear had not styled this a story of one man’s struggle and instead more honestly made this a book of many people’s participation.

    As such, I’m left thinking Dear is trying to impose himself as a major figure, seeking the identity of his heroes Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Bobby Kennedy, but falling flat despite his many arrests and popularity within a certain segment of particular activists. He wants to be seen and applauded and affirmed.

    Which makes me wonder what his life was like before Duke and with his family. Which makes me also wonder if maybe he really should have become a Franciscan after all.

  • Patrick’s Portland Restaurant Pointers

    Over the past few months I’ve had a chance to visit Portland on a couple of extended trips. Even more I visited Portland to visit someone who inspires exploration.

    When I was up there last the weather was, frankly, not very inspiring. Overcast skies throughout, with regular rain and only very occasional glimpses of the sun (though these were handily placed on days that were set aside for being out, so it was okay).

    But, even if the weather here in SoCal suits me just fine I have to say the restaurants there in the north are more my style.

    A few stand out, and one has become what I think is my favorite place to eat anywhere.

    I’m not fancy or looking for chic style or polished atmosphere. I’m looking for good unique food, in good unique settings, with fair enough prices. Having good beverages is a great plus.

    First on my list is Queen of Sheba in Portland. It’s a no-frills, kind of a hole in the wall, Ethiopian restaurant located in a fairly nondescript part of Portland. The decor is pretty utilitarian and the space is pretty tight. But the food is very, very good, served in the traditional Ethiopian way.

    The second is Noho’s. It’s Hawaiian food. Good sized portions, good prices, and authentic in taste and casualness. Maybe it helped that we ate there on a Sunday afternoon that actually had sun shining. But, I imagine having a taste of the islands on a rainy day would do a heart very good indeed.

    The next one on my list isn’t at all obscure except for those who don’t live in the Northwest. It’s a chain. But that doesn’t quite describe it all that well. Because while we can assume that every Chili’s in the country looks pretty much the same, has the same menu, and atmosphere it’s absolutely not that way with McMenamin’s. We went to three locations during my visits. The first was McMenamin’s Tavern and Pool, located in Portland and lives up to its name, being a pub with pool tables. Nothing extravagant or particularly out of the ordinary. Good pub atmosphere, good food, and good drinks–I highly recommend the Terminator Stout. I remember it mostly, however, because it was the first restaurant I went to with Amy in Portland, on the first day of my first trip up there, just after spending a fair while at Powell’s bookstore. We were so cute and unsure and cautious about where things were going then. Now we’re just cute.

    The next one we went to gave me a lot more insight into the McMenamin’s experience. On our way back from exploring the Columbia River Gorge Waterfalls we stopped at McMenamin’s Edgefield. McMenamin’s is unique in that they don’t just have little restaurants. They buy up historic sites and make a whole McMenamin’s experience out of them. Edgefield was built in 1911 as a European style resort. And it is still run this way, with a hotel, spa, and all kinds of other relaxing diversions, including a number of different places to eat and drink on the grounds. We ate outside, where mostly grilled food was served. I had a big ol’ hamburger, tater tots, and good conversation. A storm was beginning to arrive while we were there and for a little while, until the table with an umbrella next to us opened up, we sat and ate and drank while being gently sprinkled. There was lightning in the distance and a rainbow on the horizon.

    The third McMenamin’s I went to was Kennedy School. And it was just that. A school, an elementary school, bought by McMenamin’s and made into a restaurant/hotel. Totally unique and fun.

    The fun thing about McMenamin’s is that while the drinks stay the same, the menu’s are unique, with some exceptions, and they make it so a person wants to visit all the locations.

    Next on the restaurant list is a good German restaurant, Gustav’s. There’s polka music playing as you walk in. They serve free lemonade while you wait for your table. There’s very good German food and a great selection of German beers. Can’t go wrong with that.

    Finally, is what has become my favorite place to eat. Salvador Molly’s. They call it Pirate Cooking, and that’s not so much because the staff wear eye patches or fake parrots and says “arrrr!” a lot. There’s nary a “shiver my timbers” to be heard. So get that image out of your mind. Instead, it’s good world cooking, the kind of cooking that seafarers might find in a circumnavigation. The setting is as casual as can be found. It’s in a little strip mall, right across from a McMenamin’s in fact. But the food is extraordinary in diversity, portions, and price. More than that, however, extraordinary in taste. I had the Ginger Peanut Chicken Breast and Amy had the Kalua Pork. Because we were quite a bit hungry on that late afternoon we shared the Rasta Rings; well, we shared our meals too. Add to this the selection of mixed drinks–rum being their specialty. The service is great and relaxed, making us feel instantly comfortable.

    After filling up on delicious food, I got out of my seat, sat next to Amy and we watched Big Brown entirely not win the Belmont Stakes.

    So there you go. Those are my Portland culinary discoveries–places I fully expect to eat at the next time I’m in Portland and places that go a very, very long way in making the awful weather seem not all that bad.