Do You Hear What I Hear?

I love technology as much as the next blogger. I see the good in facebook, google wave, and the iPhone, and I've recently (along with our dear Moderator) become well-versed in the 140-character microblogging language of Twitter. The "Gadget Age" presents us with a near-global level of connectedness that not even the 1990's saw coming. We can even share music videos whenever we want!

Speaking of that, your latest bit of reading music is a live performance "Fast Paced World," the title track from the new album by Canadian soul-gospel-folk-samba-country string band-zydeco-Irish dance band The Duhks.

(Another excellent, positive use of technology would be to buy the studio album on iTunes. The Duhks also support sustainable living projects - go team!)

Technology, particularly the Internet, gives us lots of good things - widespread access to media, humor, research, up-to-the-second news, instant video communication with loved ones - whatever you want, you can probably find it. It's even become and essential element in disseminating culture (this short NPR piece describes that phenomenon perfectly).

It also, as with anything, has its vices - I don't need to list them, at least one of them is probably fresh on your mind from some recent newsbyte, but I've talked about this example before.

From Belfast to Carabayllo, from Kenya to Kerala, we're touched by the near-constant flow of zeroes and ones.

Television, Television

As I found myself embroiled in the madness (delightful madness, but madness nonetheless) of the holidays, planning a vacation to Dublin and London, producing a Christmas play, and celebrating with new friends and old, two strange things happened: 1) I lost my Christmas spirit, and 2) "The Truman Show" came on TV - a truly bizarre use of modern technology.

My first thought was that Sir Richard Branson had decided that it counted as a Christmas movie (it was the evening of December 23rd, after all). Already in a bit of a "Bah Humbug" kind of mood, I settled into my armchair to watch. If you don't remember the movie, it's Jim Carrey's 1998 existential classic, about a man (Truman) born and raised within an enormous television studio, starring in an eponymous television program that has been a worldwide hit for the first thirty-odd years of his life. It raises deep questions about the nature of God, religion, and the exploration of life - even "Die Hard" and "Die Hard 2: Die Harder" are easier to peg as Christmas movies.

Information Overload

It got me thinking, though - although far from the Stepford life of Truman, I definitely exist in a world controlled by some outside power, whether it's a voice in clouds or, well, Sir Richard Branson. Instead of a carefully scripted interaction with a news vendor every morning on my way to work, the combined powers of CNN and NPR deliver a constant feed of 140-character summaries to my computer screen, complete with short-form links, in case I want to learn more than "Suspect Charged In Airplane Terrorist Attack http://su.pr/1cu9te." Instead of a perfectly-put-together housewife suggesting that I buy a brand new grinder-slicer-dicer-peeler-pizza cutter-oven-self-defense device, I have the almighty and eternally suggestive iTunes store at my fingertips.

If I've got that much information overload over twelve minutes in the four-parking-space-sized flat I'm living in now, I can only imagine the messages that the community around me are receiving. Northern Ireland, is, for all its troubled past, very squarely in the global "North." Wireless high-speed internet is more than common, and continues to spread like kudzu - up-to-the-second news and communication are ubuquitous. There are more subtle messages present, as well. The schools of Northern Ireland are still overwhelmingly segregated along Catholic-Protestant lines, with only about 5% of students attending a 'mixed' school. While many public figures have taken very visible steps towards reconciliation, prominent legislators seem to gloss over the delicate issues. The sprawling community across the street from my flat is Seymour Hill, a largely Unionist, formerly-government-controlled housing estate, encompassing several Protestant churches, along with several bastions of Loyalist paramilitary influence.

Did you get my message?

In the U.S., we're often concerned with the messages that our children receive through music, television and video games. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, gratuitous violence, more sex, more drugs, Kanye West, actual gangsta rap, Dane Cook, Grand Theft Auto, Goth Metal, Katy Perry, playing Stairway to Heaven LPs backwards, and the list goes on and on.

Here in Northern Ireland, however, the same negative, destructive messages are present, with some unfortunate additions - imposing, balaclava-clad figures clutching assault rifles are painted on the street-facing sides of housing estates. Paramilitary-aligned remembrance gardens are often the only green patches in Belfast's residential areas. Miles and miles of physical barriers separate Unionist and Nationalist neighborhoods - walls that, unlike their slightly more infamous cousin, show no signs of coming down anytime soon.

I suppose that's where our work begins - deconstructing and understanding the messages that the community is receiving, and then rebuilding them around the central message of Love and Peace (or Else). As I return to work after the holiday season, I'll be doing some more seeking - how I can partner with the churches and organizations I'm placed in to rejuvenate their ministries, and how to transform the messages presented to the community from ones of violence and segregation to words of reconciliation and unity.

Maybe Sir Richard Branson had something right in putting on "The Truman Show" this December 23rd. Not a single Christmas tune was hummed or whistled, there were no hints of nativities, midnight masses, or executive Christmas parties, but there was something tucked inside Jim Carrey's existential crisis - the need to escape from a world where we're told way too much and simply believe it.

And in case I don't see you...good afternoon, good evening, and good night.

A sad day for central Virginia

Lovers of rainbow cookies, now is your time to mourn.

Ukrop's Stores have finally been sold to Giant-Carlisle, a Netherlands-based firm.

About 70% of my childhood has been upset by this - so I apologise if I decry the horrors of such corporate takeovers in public places.

Preparando

It's officially Advent: the "Season of Preparation" in the church year. We prepare ourselves for the celebration of the coming of the Christ child, and for the glorious return of the Kingdom of God on Earth. Whatever it is that means.

Currently, the practical manifestations of preparation in Riverdale House are comprised of two strings of lights, a wee tree (waaayyyy wee), and listening to the Hotel Café Tour Christmas album. A particular track from that album follows (it was also featured on a recent episode of the popular sitcom "Scrubs:"



A common tradition among churches is the lighting of candles - one for each week preceding Christmas - arranged around a central candle in an Advent Wreath. As with many Christian traditions, this seems to have been conveniently lifted from pre-Christian traditions, the wreath originally symbolizing the cycle of seasons and persistence of life in mid-winter. As Christianity co-evolved with Medieval spiritual practice, the four weeks of Advent were a season of fasting, during which people directed their thoughts to the "second coming" of Christ's kingdom on Earth.

Advent is not among the many differences between PC(USA) worship and PCI worship - each Sunday, church members and leaders light the appropriate number of candles on the Advent Wreath, carols are sung with increasing frequency as the weeks progress, and the church prepares for the season of celebration with decorations, Christmas parties, and pageants of all varieties.

At Dunmurry Presbyterian Church, I've been invited to lead a children's worship service on Sunday, 13 December - Advent III. After going over the lectionary passages for the day, I found them inspiring, but potentially a little too heady for kids between four and ten years. Instead, we're looking at the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000.

"When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children."

~Matthew 14:15-21, NRSV (Compliments to the Oremus Bible Browser).

Before setting myself to the task of preparing Advent worship for kids, I'd never seen this story as a Christmas sort of miracle - that particular sort of experience often attributed to a triumph of human generosity or goodness. When I took a second look at it, though, I can definitely see that kind of inspirational benevolence.

Jesus and company, having just heard some incredibly disheartening news about John the Baptist, sought a place where they could find a bit of respite, time for reflection and retreat. As Jesus disembarks onto the shore of this "desert place," he and those traveling with him realise that, unfortunately, Jesus' reputation as a great teacher and healer has preceded him - crowds of people, sick and needy, lined the beaches.

So he healed their sick...

...and that seemed enough compassion for the disciples, as they offered to clear off the crowds, and give themselves and their teacher some space for retreat and relaxation. Jesus, however, in his concise, brilliant, eternally intuitive way, says "They need not go away; you give them something to eat." So begins the more familiar part of this story - the disciples rifle through their brown bag lunches, count the food between them, and realise they barely have enough food to feed themselves, much less the potentially 15,000 people assembled (don't forget, it was only 5,000 men present, and the text mentions there were women and children present, too).

Jesus takes these meager portions, blesses them, breaks the bread, and sends it out to the throngs on the beach. A common interpretation of this story is that the baskets of food passed around were simply bottomless - an infinite flow of supernatural loaves and fishes. That's all well and good - it would definitely be very cool, and very miraculous, to discover that your wicker baskets are suddenly magic baskets.

What if that's not what happened, though? What if it's not just the traditional supernatural experience, but something - superhuman? Picture yourself attending some huge gathering, seeking out some great teacher, a spiritual leader, or going to listen to some of the best music you've ever heard. I know at least half of my friends and family are the type to pack snacks. Now imagine Jesus and his disciples present - handing out some of that blessed bagels and lox, you take a bit, pass it on, and maybe add in a bit of your own bread, pass around some of your family's fruit and veg, and before you know it, five loaves and two fishes have turned into enough food for an entire town.

All that from a pot of water and a big rock - or am I getting my archetypes confused?

If you ask church-y kids what Christmas is all about, a great majority will respond with something like "PRESENTS! ...and Jesus." An encouraging trend in the modern/progressive church is the de-commercialization of Christmas (example: the Advent Conspiracy)...putting the focus back on that Medieval spirit of preparation for the coming of Christ's kingdom. As I'm preparing a "Stone Soup Communion" with the kids of Dunmurry, I hope we can channel some of that traditional Advent spirit - preparando.