Breaking free again (and again)

A change is afoot

Recent health events have made me aware that I need to “grow up” in certain ways and start acting my age. My feet have started to hold my lifestyle hostage until their demands have been met.

You see, I’ve been buying my clothes at thrift stores for decades. I like the fact that my clothing money goes to charity. I like the fact that buying second hand helps with, or at least does not exacerbate, the fast fashion environmental debacle. I am also cheap. And I have kind of low standards. And I like the thrill of the hunt.

In my decades of thrifting for my personal effects, I have never been able to pass up certain items whether I need them or not. Or whether they’re my exact size or not. Or whether I have room for them or not.

There are certain brands that I value for the quality, the construction, and the durability. My personal style draws me to classic, slightly boring, all-occasion, and versatile brands. Like, way back in my early 80’s high school days, Izod and Polo clothes were high fashion unobtanium for me and my middle class peers. Nowadays, I find them to be well-made, comfortable, and compatible with my shabby chic personal aesthetic.

I rarely pass up an “heirloom” quality pair of shoes. There are just certain brands that are an automatic “buy” for me. Ecco, Clarks, Allen Edmonds, Johnson and Murphy, and definitely Cole Haan are my favorites. If they are in good shape I will accept, let’s say, a little “slop” in the fit. I mostly sit for a living. And most of my walking is more or less between one sittng location to another. So I can rationalize an incorrect fit, as long as it’s not painfully small or clown-shoe large large on my feet.

But alas, it can be so no longer. I must show greater deference to my feet as I age. (And my knees, but that’s another post.) So I am culling footwear this week, and that includes some very nice pairs of shoes.

I cannot bring myself to just drop a pair of classic Cole Haans into one of those parking lot clothing bins. I prefer to hand them on, heirloom style. So if you made it this far into my post and you are a size 11.5 or 12 or have a friend or loved one who is, I have a deal for you. As in “free to a good home” deal. Up for grabs:

An 11.5 D pair of black Cole Haan Penny Loafers

A 12 M pair of cordovan Cole Haan Oxfords

A 12 M pair of brown Cole Haan casual sport loafers

All in used but very good condition. Also up for grabs:

A size 12 pair of brown suede Rockport causal loafers

And a size 12 pair of Prince gum-soled racquetball shoes in lightly used but great condition. Yes, my racquetball days are over. My joints all took a vote and my podiatrist and orthopedist concurred.

These came straight from my closet, so they need a bit of cleaning as you can see.

17 questions to ask about that gee-whiz tech development

I like this a lot. In our breathless rush to embrace the next big thing, we should be asking more questions.

A lot more questions. Like maybe add these 41 ethical questions about technology.

Or personally, as a person of faith, maybe go through each of the Beatitudes, the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy, and the Cardinal Virtues and discern whether my use of that technology will hinder or help me in pursuit of that perfecting good. And, thinking of Matthew chapter 25:31-40, how might this technology expand or redefine “the least of these” we are duty bound to serve?

Mitch Betts

Science-fiction author David Brin explains his method of examining the future:

The top method is simply to stay keenly attuned to trends in the laboratories and research centres around the world, taking note of even things that seem impractical or useless,” says Brin. “You then ask yourself: ‘What if they found a way to do that thing ten thousand times as quickly/powerfully/well? What if someone weaponised it? Monopolised it? Or commercialised it, enabling millions of people to do this new thing, routinely? What would society look like, if everybody took this new thing for granted?’

Those are good questions, as far as they go. My methodology for examining new developments (especially technologies) is to ask additional questions, some with a decidedly negative slant:

• What if it runs into legal or political problems?
• What if it can be used by criminals?
• What if it raises ethical or religious objections?
• What…

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Lines Drawing

I like drawing lines. Sometimes they make patterns. But lately they go every which way.

• 

Back to Bad Art?

Back in 2004 this was a thing.

We might need to revive this.

Being as common ground.

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.” — Richard Dawkins, Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusion and the Appetite for Wonder

Richard Dawkins and I agree on this. I think “unborn ghosts” is an interesting word choice for an atheist who, I assume, denies the existence of the soul, but that’s a quibble. He’s straight up right — human existence is so improbable as to be a miracle. Being is a miracle and a gift.

Turns out my God is Being itself (“ipsum esse,”) not the “Supreme Being” (“ens summum”) whose existence Dawkins denies. Not trying to be smug here. I am encouraged by the prospect that, if we were all to simply embrace a more mature definition of God, we might find more common ground even with atheists who deny God but nonetheless acknowledge the incredible gift of existence.

Poem: The Truelove

THE TRUELOVE
by David Whyte

There is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.

I am thinking of faith now
and the testaments of loneliness
and what we feel we are
worthy of in this world.

Years ago in the Hebrides,
I remember an old man
who walked every morning
on the grey stones
to the shore of baying seals,
who would press his hat
to his chest in the blustering
salt wind and say his prayer
to the turbulent Jesus
hidden in the water,

and I think of the story
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them

and how we are all
preparing for that
abrupt waking,
and that calling,
and that moment
we have to say yes,
except it will
not come so grandly
so Biblically
but more subtly
and intimately in the face
of the one you know
you have to love

so that when
we finally step out of the boat
toward them, we find
everything holds
us, and everything confirms
our courage, and if you wanted
to drown you could,
but you don’t
because finally
after all this struggle
and all these years
you simply don’t want to
any more
you’ve simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness
however fluid and however
dangerous to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.

David’s Eulogy

I prayed over this for several hours to distill my brother’s life down to fifteen minutes. People told me I did well, who knows, but when I read it I smile and it brings David back to my mind. I guess that’s how I know it works. Here it is, because I don’t want him to leave my mind:

“I apologize in advance if this takes a while. I want to tell you about who David was to me and what I learned about God from him. And that will involve more than a few stories.

When he was young, he was the cute, charming, and funny brother. Everyone’s little buddy. I was the hyperactive nerdy overachiever. We both had our own ways of making our marks on the world.

When we got older, David was athletic and popular. I was still a nerdy overachiever. David accumulated friends and relationships. I went for grades and accomplishments.

I thought dismissively at the time that David was popular, class president key player in the party crowd, because he was a big football player. But what I missed was one key thing about David’s natural wisdom.

There’s a semi-famous quote from this 90’s movie called “Blast from the Past” that said “a gentleman is someone who always tries to make sure the people around him are as comfortable as possible.” That was David. He wasn’t just popular just because he was a jock. He was popular because he had a knack for putting people around him at ease. He was always at their service. And rather than seeking to be admired, David sought to admire others. I missed that until we were much older.

And, he was a really good sport. He was a master at “going with the flow” and accompanying people in things that they, not necessarily he, liked. Sound familiar?

He let me drag him to all sorts of things out of his comfort zone. Like to eat Ethiopian food for instance. As long as he could find something that looked like basic bread and meat for himself, he was happy just to be with you and witness your enjoyment of whatever nasty thing you were eating.

I dragged him to a rave in the 90’s. In an abandoned bank, back before the revival, downtown Houston was still a little scary at night. That was quite an adventure. Afterwards we had breakfast at Denny’s and compared notes. I noted that, after having been to college, people on ecstasy are way more pleasant than drunk people. I also paid more attention to all the art and weird costumes. David, ever the DJ and youth minister, was doing research. He noted the sound system, layout, lighting, what vendors were selling and how they were set up, the varieties of glowing objects offered for sale, and observations about youth culture of the time. If David DJed for your event in the past few decades I can tell you that David put a lot of thought into what he did and how to make an event fun and exciting.

I dragged the whole family to a poetry reading down by the Menil on one of my birthdays. They were a captive audience. Let’s say that the poets there were quite colorful and of… variable quality. We decided that at least some of the poets were no better than we could do ourselves. And I pointed out that, well, they got up there and we did not.

David took that to heart and scheduled a special family poetry reading at his house a few weeks later. We all gathered and brought our favorite poetry to read. David wrote and performed two original, funny, clever, and kind of touching slam-style spoken word pieces using props. Banging loudly on an empty water cooler bottle and while walking on a treadmill. He was the highlight of the night. He could have been the highlight of that first poetry reading we went to if he had performed there.

But David started to win me over to his way of being when I went with him and started to help him do some of what he did. I started to witness and admire the deceptive genius of all that fun stuff he did with the kids.

I DJed a few events with him and for him. That was not just hard work –first to arrive and last to leave lugging heavy stuff solving logistics issues — but it required the ability to be in tune with and respond to the mood and flow of a crowd and this special party master presence and voice that is not as easy as David made it seem. Few things David did were as easy as David made them seem.

I got defensive of my little brother when “responsible adults” would dismiss what he did as not being real work. “You get paid to eat pizza and go to Astroworld? What a job!” I’ll tell you since I went with him once as a chaperone, being in charge of dozens of kids at a large amusement park, in the days before cell phones, was quite stressful and a lot of work. I spent a whole lot of time looking at a list and counting kids. David struck the balance of being the responsible adult, stern when he had to be, but still fun and friendly with the kids in his care.

He made a career out of being both Mary and Martha at the same time, doing a job that the responsible adult world didn’t take very seriously. But as I witnessed what he did and how he did it, I grew to admire David. And his way taught me some things about God.

We’ve all probably heard the quote attributed to St. Francis about preaching the gospel at all times and using words if necessary. David definitely preached the Gospel with his life.

David was a Man for Others, a Fool for Christ, and Completely Useless in the holiest of ways.

A Man for Others

David was a man for others. That’s a Jesuit phrase, but the title fits David very well.

David chose a 30+ year career of service to the Church. You don’t work for the Church for the money. You do it for the love.

David, with his wife Cindy, adopted three children — Victor, Bruno, and Fiona — and served his family with devotion. You don’t choose a vocation like that for glory or fame. You choose that for love.

David served our mom and dad with devotion too. He lived down the street from them and was always available when they needed him. He even changed jobs away from youth ministry in his last years so his work schedule would allow him to be there for our father in his last years.

David was always looking for a way to help others in every situation. He was naturally in tune with those around him and put others’ comfort on par with or above his own. That was just who he was.

In fact, sometimes I think, to a fault.

One of our last conversations over dinner a couple weeks before he died, we talked about how he needed to take more time for himself. Take better care of himself. He agreed and said, “you know, maybe I need to get myself a hobby.” I agreed, wanting to encourage him, so I asked him, “okay so the last time you found yourself really in the zone, so wrapped up in what you were doing, that you forgot time and didn’t want to stop when it was time to stop, what were you doing?” He said, I was DJing a junior high school dance.

Of course that’s what he said. What he en-JOY-ed most, with the emphasis on JOY, was helping others have fun.

David’s example inspires me, and all of us, be “men and women for others” In that way I can honor what David did with his life.

A Fool for Christ

St. Paul wrote in 1 Cor 4:10 “We are fools for Christ’s sake, but yet are wise in Christ;”

David often played the “Holy Fool.” A great tradition in the Church (google it). By being the Fool, he was wise in Christ

All of us, especially the thousands of teens he served, are bombarded by pressures to act or look a certain way, stay within the lines

David tossed all those things out the window when it came to serving Christ. A Holy Fool uses unconventional behavior and challenges accepted norms to serve the Gospel. That describes David, doesn’t it?

With his signature bright colored tie-dye shirt, overalls. He would wear silly hats. Use silly props. Sing loud and silly songs. Do silly dances.

“High Five The Lord”

His example gave all of us permission to let go, relax, and let God move us.

He gave the hyperactive kids squirming in their seats a chance to get up and jump for Jesus. His example gave the shy quiet kids encouragement that it might be okay to raise their hands a little bit and give praise to God with everyone else.

He wasn’t afraid to make messes for Jesus. Epic messes that made “responsible adults” wince. Anyone remember Jello-rama? He made messes, sure, but with them he made fond memories people carried with them their whole lives.

He tossed nutrition out the window. He knew what kids wanted to eat. And he knew that he needed to feed them. He served well over 25,000 pizzas in his youth ministry career here at Epiphany alone.

After he fed them pizza and had them run around and play games, sing and dance, then he would settle them down to pray and praise God. But what they didn’t realize was that in the sharing pizza, games, dances, and songs, they already had been praying and praising God.

At what point did we unlearn how to pray like that? David never stopped trying to get people to pray like that.

David’s example inspires me to let my guard down, quit worrying so much about appearances, and be more of a “fool for Christ.” In that way I can honor what David said to us with his life.

Useless in the Holiest of Ways

Most importantly, David was a maestro, a natural genius, of Uselessness.

I suppose I should explain. St. John Henry Newman is one of my favorite theologians. He wrote in his “Idea of a University” that, while learning useful skills is important, they are important because they help us attain to higher things. David’s photo booth was use-ful because it helped people have fun, capture memories, and enjoy being together.

The most important things in life are use-less, like fun, fond memories, and being together. They don’t serve a higher end, they *are* the higher end.

David’s life’s work was devoted to use-less activities.

He knew and could do all sorts of useful things…

He could plan events for hundreds of people. He could teach the faith to a large crowd in a way that was fun and engaging. He could set up large sound systems and light displays. He could screen print tshirts. He could build things. Run a photo booth, a cotton candy machine, karaoke, all at the same time. He invented a way to make jello eggs solid balloons full of jello for his Jello-rama events. He was clever and resourceful in lots of use-ful ways.

David had all sorts of useful stuff. Lots of stuff. Everywhere.

I had the opportunity to start clearing out Dave’s office this last week here at Epiphany. I was expecting it to be a mournful chore, but it turned into a privileged witness to the dailiness of my brother. Every item pointed to a higher end. He had lots of tools, books of ministry resources, props for skits, sound cords and connectors, photo booth supplies. Almost everything was use-ful for some higher end and provided some means to serve others. Even the décor on his walls – the funny sayings, the nuns having fun – were use-ful in giving visitors an occasion to smile or laugh or reflect on their faith. David’s office, like David himself, was an icon of the use-ful in service to the highest use-less things in life.

As I was trying to establish some kind of order to all this stuff, I imagined Marie Kondo herself sitting down with Dave, holding up a pair of rubber hairy inflatable worms and asking, “Does this spark Joy?” And I imagined David responding, “Well, a little. But the important thing is that it can help me spark joy in others. That’s the question you should be asking. How does this serve God?”

David was a master of the most use-less, holiest things, praise, play, fun, games, community, relationships, laughter, enjoyment, and rest

David showed me how much work it took to help others rest, play and refresh themselves in the Lord. He could be both Martha and Mary at once and not skip a beat.

One of my other favorite theologians, Thomas Merton, says we are all spoken “like words from the mouth of God containing a partial thought of himself.” When God created David, He spoke a unique combination of service, kindness, fun, laughter, play, and joy into our world. David showed us a special view of God’s love for us just by being David.”

File Manager Archaeology: a family toast

Going through the files on my laptop I cam across a toast I wrote for a family gathering. I can’t remember what gathering or whether I gave the toast or not. But it’s still true, and heartfelt.

“In the beginning, before the earth and the stars, before time itself,
There is a family — A lover who pours out his (or her) self as a gift just for the one he loves,
A beloved, who receives that gift and responds perfectly in kind,
And the love exchanged between them, from which everything is made.
This giving and receiving and giving again,
This pouring out and replenishing,
This intimate, mutual self-gift,
Takes on a life of its very own
And creates the world we know.
Kind of like how two wonderful people can become something astonishing
Once they place the word “and” between their names —
Dede and David, Don and Blanche, Heidi and Cody –
And they give their lives to that tiny, miraculous, terrifying word “and”
Two become one, while still being two. Living the “and.”
That “and” becomes an “us,” which changes
sportscars into minivans,
nightclubs into night feedings,
“tables for two” into “Tables for four, two kids menus, and a booster seat.”
I started my life as a beloved, completely unable to comprehend what I was receiving.
I simply cried and a big person who loved me was suddenly there.
I had no idea that they were sleeping, that they had an early work meeting,
that they grumbled all the way down the hall to my crib.
All I knew is that they were there.
And they were there. And they were there again. Over and over. That’s how we learn.
What fuels my hope for the world are all the marvelous ways we family are there for each other. And the beautiful things, the Neals, the Brads, the Hannahs, and for that matter the Addies and the Sarahs, that come to us from that original mutual gift of self,
And all the bright young people are poised on the brink of their stint in the world as lovers and givers of self, living the “and” that they learned from us. (God help us.)
And this long-winded toast is just to say that, with this family, I am in the presence of God himself.
You may not be pious or devout, but Jesus never cared much for that. But how you love, that was
everything to him. And, as far as I can see from this family, love is everything to you.
The tenderness of a father for his son, the way two fine sons honor and respect their mother, the flame
of passion that burns brighter between Husband and Wife because of the years between them, not in
spite of them. We might as well be in church.
This weekend Heidi and I feel like the beloved, receiving your gift of generosity and invitation. And we
respond with witness, gratitude, and heartfelt admiration.
My eyes are bright with praise of God for being amongst all of you. To me families like yours are the very Sacrament of his presence in the world. The very hope I have for the future.”

Poem: Alone With My Faith

I still believe
My story’s not over
I’m making my way
Just not like I planned
I still see the sunrise
I still see the rainfall
I know who I am
And I know where I stand

Alone with my faith
What I know is true
What gives me assurance
When I don’t know what to do
I don’t have all the answers
But I have always known
I’m eternally faithful
So I am never alone

—Lyrics from “Alone With My Faith”, © 2021 by Harry Connick Jr