Unique Challenge #1 : Postmodernism

One of the central tenets of postmodernity is the rejection of any centralizing
myth or grand narrative that attempts to present truth. One can make a claim for a
story, but that claim is limited and, consequently, weak. What one cannot claim is a
Story, since there are no claims that have universal weight to them.

What this means for “curricula of Christlikeness” is that they can no longer be created from data and
information imposed by an authority figure or “information dispenser” offering a
worldview or moral philosophy that trumps the experience of others.

Postmodernism pushes curricula (of the kind envisioned in this discussion) first toward unpacking
individual stories via relationships, then grouping these “storied relationships” into
communities, and, finally, exploring communally the nature of Trinitarian reality. It is
a slow movement toward the adoption of the metanarrative embodied in scripture.

It is the movement from story to theology. Consequently, current attempts to create new
curricula will have to acknowledge and promote this slow and painstaking relational
work.

This is where the ancient creeds can be our allies. The most ancient, universally recognized Creeds (namely The Apostles’ Creed & The Nicene Creed) have always been a tool of formation, primarily as preparation for baptism, as they immerse us in the Story from Creation through Christ to re-creation in the age to come. What is often lacking though in many forms of catechesis that I’m familiar with  is the relational component where individuals can unpack their stories within this larger Story.

How do we get people talking about their story in a way that does not lead to unhealthy introspection but ties their story to a much larger vision of what God has done, is doing and will do? That is the challenge we’ve been given in our time and I believe the resources are there – though in need of re-tooling – to be mined from ages past that will point the way forward.

Next stop: Consumerism.

3 unique challenges to spiritual formation in our time

So this sounding of the alarm is nothing new. It is a persistent and common motif throughout religious history for leaders to decry the current state of spiritual maturity and sound the call for return to the more rigorous and devoted practices of earlier generations. This naturally begs the question whether there is anything distinctly different about the time in which we now find ourselves, and many observers and researchers in a variety of fields — sociology, anthropology, and neuroscience to name three — have concluded that we have entered and are entering a period of human history that is qualitatively different from all others.

Three features of this liminal moment in human history are postmodernism, consumerism, and the transition to a digital information-entertainment age.

In the West, we have entered a postmodern culture where traditions, moral
norms and any sense of absolute truth have been replaced by a pronounced relativism
and a pluralism of truths that are tied not to philosophical schools but to an
individual’s personal experience. Marketers, psychologists, neuroscientists, all
working within an economy built on the need to increase levels of acquisition, have
contributed to the formation of a systemic and rampant consumer culture where the
distinction between need and want has blurred considerably. As complicit actors in
this unfolding drama, we now see it as normal to express ourselves and establish our
identities through what we buy, ascribing a kind of magic power to brands and the
“statement” attached to them. Add to this the digital-information age: never before in
human history has the general population had the capability to instantaneously access
vast databanks of information on all variety of topics, to connect visually and verbally
in real time with both friends and strangers who may be physically present on the
other side of the planet, or to enjoy an endless stream of diversion and entertainment
— all via the power of the internet.

The forces of postmodernism, consumerism and digitization shape us in significant ways whether we realize it or not thus making an intentional formation in Christlikesness all the more challenging.

Next we’ll look more closely at each of these three forces one by one.

* For a fascinating overview of how our culture is training us to desire more and more see Juliet B. Schor’s The Overspent American.

Church: We have a problem.

Church, we have a problem and its time to admit it. Once we admit it we can transcend it but until we face the facts we won’t be able to rise above it. If Jesus, John the Baptist, the earliest Apostles or even Alcoholics Anonymous have taught us anything it’s that we must first admit we have a problem before the solution will present itself.

In the present-day church at large and, more specifically, in my own personal context (the Brownhouse, a communal household in Norwood, Ohio), spiritual formation typically happens accidentally rather than intentionally. It is rare that one finds a clearly defined, biblically consistent, considered, holistic, and consistent approach that orients people to the way of Christ upon entry into the community of faith. It is also rare to find an approach that guides them through deep spiritual transformation and shows them how to replicate the experience for others.

The anemic state of spiritual formation and maturity in the American church has been routinely noted over the last two decades. In his book, The Second Coming of the Church, sociologist George Barna stated that across a broad spectrum of behaviors and attitudes there is no significant difference between the morals and behavior of Christians and non-Christians. Christians are, apparently, no more benevolent or satisfied with their lives than are non-Christians; they are as indebted; they take as much medication for depression; and their divorce rate is higher. Barna concludes, “We think and behave no differently from anyone else.” (Barna, Second Coming of the Church, p 7)

In 2007, Willow Creek made public the results of a multiyear quantitative analysis of its church. One of the major conclusions was that, although they were good at getting people in the door and active in the church’s many programs, a relatively small percentage of their membership actually considered themselves “close to Christ” or “Christ-centered.” A large part of their membership described themselves as “stalled out” in their spiritual development. Following their study, the church leadership espoused the need for a four-component track for spiritual formation:

(1) acquiring spiritual beliefs and attitudes;

(2) participating in church activities;

(3) observing personal spiritual practices; and

(4) participating in spiritual activities with others.

It is important to note that the third and fourth components were the new elements that Willow Creek identified as lacking and recommended adding.

Prior to Willow Creek’s admission, Dallas Willard lamented, “… at the present time intentional, effective training in Christ-likeness — within the framework of a clear-eyed apprenticeship commitment and a spiritual ‘engulfment’ in the Trinitarian reality— is just not there for us.” He adds that “nondiscipleship is the ‘elephant in the church’ ” that is fed and kept strong by the “lack of effectual programs of training that enable [God’s] people to do what Jesus said in a regular and efficient manner.” (Dallas Willard, Divine Conspiracy, p. 313)

More recently, Reggie McNeal has noted that the church has, for a long time, given itself to running programs and ministries rather than engaging in its core activity of developing people spiritually, a fact that has contributed to a church culture which is distinctly nonmissional. (Missional Renaissance p. 6-8)

Frost and Hirsch would agree, “The church is in decline in almost every context in the First World. The church is worse off precisely because of Christendom’s failure to evangelize its own context and establish gospel communities that transform the culture.” (Shaping of Things to Come, p 14)

In the next post, we’ll discover this “sounding of the alarm” is nothing new but the challenges we face in our time are unique and need to be faced squarely. In other words there’s some more bad news to cover before we can get to any kind of solution…

Econocide

Alice Skirtz, one of the founding members of the Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless, has spent a lot of time in meetings. She’s been on lots of committees, she’s advocated on behalf of  a great number of political causes. These might not  always be exciting pursuits, but they can teach you something. Skirtz says that going to meetings, spending time reading the minutes of meetings, stepping back and examining the arc of public policy decisions, has given her insights on an extremely unpleasant topic: “Poor people [are] literally being eliminated from the community.”

Skirtz has just written a book published by the NASW Press (the publishing arm of the National Association of Social Workers) called Econocide: Elimination of the Urban Poor. In it, she argues that Cincinnati has forsaken its civic responsibility toward an “undesirable” population–the underclass, the lowest folks on the totem pole. Skirtz sees this happening in many communities, but she examines Cincinnati specifically, researching what effect decisions made by people in power at the national, regional and neighborhood level have on real lives.

In an interview, Skirtz describes how some plans for development, designed to improve living conditions, may seem to start out with the best of intentions but may end up inflicting harm. “HOPE VI is a famous one. Money was set aside to demolish obsolete housing projects and to build in their stead mixed income, not project, housing. That’s all well and good. These [projects] were built in the 30s, they were inadequate. But what happened in the end was that folks lost about a third of the housing options they had.”

There wasn’t a one-to-one replacement of housing units, so there were simply fewer affordable places to live. A voucher system was put into place where people could supplement their rent with a voucher, but what if (as happens) a landlord is unwilling to rent to someone who has a voucher? And are there enough vouchers to go around? “The waiting list for vouchers is capped at 13,000–but 19,000 people applied.”

So what happens to the 6,000 who make up the difference? “Some of them turn up in the homeless shelters, some of them pay for housing that takes too much of their income so they don’t have money for food or health care and are right on the brink of becoming homeless.”

That’s the public policy end of things. Skirtz in her book also traces disempowerment through decisions from private companies to ignore the voice of the community as they make plans. In fact, formerly public spaces are becoming more privately owned and managed–and since they are not public spaces any longer, the public is not invited to give input in how they are to be used. Skirtz says the decision to remove the swimming pool in Over-the-Rhine’s Washington Park was made despite the community’s desire to retain it. ” Now we have no swimming pool and two dog runs with no provision to raise that decision for public discussion. That’s not just. Similarly, only under pressure have the plans for renovation in Over-the-Rhine included any affordable housing, and that’s not just. We can quibble about the definition of affordable housing, but if it excludes everybody at middle income and below, that’s not just.”

The answer, Skirtz believes, is to “restore the process of inclusion of others.” In our interview, she says this particularly in reference to the business community, so that more than just the most powerful companies have a say in what happens. But it is a principle with far wider applications–and perhaps conversation on this topic can provide a natural link between “community” from last month to “justice” in this month.

After all, who is my neighbor?

“Community is this indomitable force”: An interview with Jenn Summers

Jenn Summers is the Community Education Coordinator at Peaslee Neighborhood Center in Over-the-Rhine, Cincinnati. (Full disclosure: when I’m not working with Formed, I’m working for Peaslee, so she’s my co-worker.) “Community” isn’t just a word in her job title, it’s something she clearly values in all her interactions.

“Community means different things to different people,” Jenn said as we talked earlier this month at Iris Book Cafe. “I talk about that with the students.” High school and college students come to Peaslee for service learning projects, “urban plunges” and other experiences that connect them with organizations working for social justice in Over-the-Rhine. Part of Jenn’s role at Peaslee is to facilitate these experiences, and that involves talking about what expectations the students bring, and how their own background will color their perspective.

Jenn’s own perspective on community, she explained, is rooted in growing up closely connected to a Catholic parish in Louisville. “We grew up in the church. I’ve never thought of myself as religious, but I’m deeply rooted in the Catholic faith and its rituals. The church community was where we played sports–my dad ran the leagues. And I grew up with a real sense of everybody taking care of each other. Mom would take care of our next door neighbor. Our neighbors would be at our house for Thanksgiving.

“That being said, our community was pretty segregated. My sense growing up of community might not have been exclusionary, but it was homogeneous.”

Jenn came to live in Over-the-Rhine after going to college at Xavier; she’s looked back at things she wrote in high school and has discovered that from an early age she’d wanted to engage with people of different races and classes. In Louisville, she’d had close ties with her church community–”In a way, I replaced that a little bit with the activist community here in Over-the-Rhine. I saw people taking care of each other, just doing it, out of necessity and a sense of justice. I was also faced with less idyllic circumstances. There were so many daily injustices that people suffered. Even though I was living with people who were very different from me, I found all these commonalities.”

Jenn was especially moved by volunteering on projects for the organization now known as Over-the-Rhine Community Housing, formerly RESTOC, where she worked alongside “people willing to spend time to volunteer on building projects even though they didn’t have a house. That was inspiring.” She might not have at first thought she had much in common with the volunteers who had been or were homeless, who were in recovery from crack or alcohol addiction, but as they worked together, friendships were formed.

She found that there were differences and similarities between her life when she lived in the urban core and life in the suburbs. “In Over-the-Rhine, I have more genuine interactions with people in the street. Everything’s all out front, you don’t hide the problems. In the suburbs, problems are behind closed doors. People still have problems, but they’re not aired.”

Working with activist buddy gray gave Jenn perspective on ways to build stronger communities. “I learned how much people have to offer, sometimes more than they even realize; they don’t even know what’s within them. buddy taught me that because of how he lived and his work. buddy never went to a meeting about anything without someone else, and it wasn’t someone who was interested in the issue necessarily. That’s community building.”

Community tied in closely with justice, particularly as Jenn confronted systemic injustice. One of the projects she worked on with RESTOC was the Recovery Hotel. “We had all the funding but Main Street businesses were trying to block the development of the building because they said it would be a bad thing for the neighborhood to have affordable housing where recovering addicts would be housed.” So there was a hearing on the issue, and 75 people came out to support the project–only to be told the hearing was cancelled; they should come back next week. The next week, 125 people came. That hearing was cancelled too. “Next week we came back with 200 people! It was inspiring to be working alongside people coming together to do this…I wasn’t doing anything for anybody, I was doing this with people. That sense of community really changed me.” (The Recovery Hotel, providing 20 units of temporary housing for men and women in substance abuse recovery, opened in 1996.)

The experiences of living in a neighborhood like Over-the-Rhine and working for organizations committed to justice like Peaslee and Over-the-Rhine Community Housing has given Jenn the sense that community is not optional. “We are partial, we are not whole without community in all its different forms.”

She often thinks about the people she has met who are quietly taking care of their neighbors by fixing meals, visiting the elderly, helping children get to school. “In the midst of disinvestment and abandonment by the institutional powers that be that could have done more, people still do this. Community is this indomitable force. It takes a lot to completely squash that, and that’s good news for the world.”

6:55 am

A guest post on the subject of community by the Rev. Beth Maynard.

6:55 AM, and the set of bells in the hall has just been rung.  Over the next five minutes, between 6 and 10 sets of feet pad their way up or down the stairs; soon the chapel is full.  We each open a Book of Common Prayer, pray a group of Psalms antiphonally, hear Scripture and respond with praise, then intercede for the world, the church, our neighborhood, and each other.  From there, after a little catching-up, we soon scatter to all kinds of places. Over the 6 years we’ve been here, some have headed to seminary, some to the workplace, some to care for the kids, others to an internship…. it all depends who is living with us at the time. Later in the day, we may end up grilling out back or talking with local kids, but very often we don’t all see each other again until Compline at 9 PM.

This is the simple rhythm of life at Mill Street House, the intentional Christian community my husband and I started in 2006 on Boston’s North Shore.  Spread over three apartments in a triple-decker originally built as part of cheap immigrant worker housing for a nearby mill, a mix of couples, singles, and families live with us in a way that is not all that unusual other than being, let’s say, “more permeable than the average American.”

The two of us, both near 50, are the only permanent residents; others, usually in their 20s or 30s, make a commitment to stay with us for from a semester to two years. It’s a cross, we sometimes joke, between a monastery and a boarding house, or an internship and an apartment. They come seeking different things: discernment of a calling, the experience of being part of a poorer neighborhood, the discipline of being shaped by the Daily Office, or just some antidote to the consumerism and individualism that form the actual spiritual practice of so many Americans. Although I am an Episcopal priest, we have no denominational expectations (so far, residents have ranged all the way from Catholic to Conservative Congregational Christian Conference); and since ecclesiologically we are clear that Mill Street House is not a church but a residential community, we all attend different congregations on Sundays.

While we don’t have a written rule of life, we do organize around what we call three strands of our DNA: liturgical prayer, community life, and missional neighboring. We’ve set the actual accountability bar fairly low on each of these practices: pray the morning office together on all weekdays and a casual Compline on some evenings, join in one shared meal a week, and take part in impromptu, low-key involvement with neighbors and local events.  Those three benchmarks are (deliberately) easy to surpass when you actually start living with and investing in people, and they certainly don’t convey the pleasure of nearly always having someone to pick you up at the airport, split a case of Seventh Generation paper towels, or loan you two eggs in a pinch (not to mention the pleasure of offering those services to others).

Our structure has helped us to avoid some of the pitfalls of the more starry-eyed and/or seat-of-the-pants “let’s all move in and see what happens” models of community – and this is so both physically and psychologically.  Physically, the place has three kitchens, three bathrooms, and six little decks — and the bedrooms are all at separate corners of each floor.  Married couples can maintain a fair amount of privacy, and people feeling the need for down time have places to retreat. And psychologically, there is a basic sense of stability and accountability in having one couple at midlife acting as the “landlords.” Although we try to hold that authority as lightly and collaboratively as we can, our housemates do know who ultimately makes the liturgical assignments and leaves notes about parking or laundry, and we find that this lowers interpersonal stresses a fair amount.

To my husband and me, the luxury of praying the Daily Office with others is one of the most precious gifts of this way of life. We both have maybe 20 years of background with fixed-hour prayer solo and as regular guests of various monastics, but having a community to do the work of the people with every day is something we’re very grateful for. It’s been good for us as well to have to relinquish our preferred pragmatic Anglican meditative vibe at times for the sake of the house; I’m thinking of those semesters when the Office has needed to welcome, say, a 3-year-old playing with trucks on the floor, occasionally interrupting a Psalm with questions like “Why was God angry?”

Whoever is there for it, though, the sense of undramatic spiritual anchoring a regular community Daily Office gives to your life cannot be overstated. As a prior resident said to me while reflecting on his time here, “It’s amazing how quickly you fall into the sense of ‘Well, this is just what we do.’”  It bookends your days.  It’s different in Lent, and even more so in Easter.  Through it, you know automatically what day of the week it is, what week of the liturgical year we’re in, whose saint’s day it is (or if it isn’t).  You even notice the seasons more, as you see what 7:00 AM looks like from winter to spring to summer to fall through the same chapel windows.

How long do we plan to continue living this way?  As long as we can, or until God tells us different. There is something about getting to that Biblical year 7 that is making us wonder if a chapter of some kind could be ending, although we have no idea what else God might be up to — but we’d be just as happy to go on as we are.

Jesus, mid life crisis, and the Karate Kid

John 12.26 “If any of you wants to serve me, then follow me. Then you’ll be where I am, ready to serve at a moment’s notice. The Father will honor and reward anyone who serves me.” (The Message)

This short verse stood out to me from yesterday’s lectionary reading and I wanted to offer a few reflections that I think are salient to the FORMED community:

First, Jesus desires relationship over tasks. He doesn’t just want to give us a job. If all he wanted was mechanical obedience and the accomplishment of tasks, he could just as easily have created an army of robots. The overall narrative of scripture as well as several particular passages make it clear that God  wants relationship. (See John 17 & Philippians 3 for starters) Now, It’s also true that he’s concerned about tasks and important work but its just not primary, not first in the order of things.

Secondly, Jesus desires learning before serving. As Dallas Willard so often reminds us we must continually be learning how to live OUR life in the way Christ would. We do this largely by an interactive life that is in constant communication with God refined by open relationships with others who share this commitment to know, love and follow Christ.

But we have to deal with this issue of OUR particular life. We can’t live Jesus life (he already lived it!) or anyone elses for that matter. We have been given a life and the life we actually have needs to be accepted. Have you ever really accepted the life you have? If you live with constant regret, envy of others or discontent then you probably haven’t fully accepted the life you have. Are you one of those people (and I’m often battling this myself!) who is constantly dreaming of another life , the one we wish we had? Or much worse, are you making plans to pursue another life than the one you have? Are you just waiting to get the courage or the money or the opportunity to jettison the life you have for one you imagine will be better? Especially for men this is a classic mid-life crisis approach to life. What starts as a fantasy of something or someone different over years turns to intention and then to an abandonment of the life one has. So really, a mid-life crisis may just be the last straw on a fantasy life that was constructed over years in our 20′s and 30′s. But It’s the wrong use of our imagination. What if we used our imagination to lead the life we actually have with more creativity, more daring, more beauty… that seems to be a much better use of the faculty of imagination that God gave us!

Lastly, Jesus desires humility before partnership. We often want to come to Christ and imagine that we bring a lot to the table, that somehow Christ is going to be so grateful for the unbelievable set of gifts that we are putting at his disposal. And as we come to him we realize he may just ask us to wax his car or sand his deck (yes, I slipped into a Karate Kid metaphor there, like that?)… but just like Miyagi he won’t be wasting our time – although it may FEEL that way at times. He will be preparing us and positioning us to serve in ways that bring us great joy, allowing us to accomplish things we could not imagine for the good of the world and God’s glory.

Our first obligation then, our first calling and primary vocation, is to follow Christ. To follow Christ I must be be with him. To follow Christ I must willing to be taught… a learning posture, a beginners mind. To follow Christ I must be willing to not be in charge. To not be in charge I must be willing to not be in control. To not be in control I must I must submit my desires and dreams to his desires and dreams. To follow Christ I must seek first his will and ways and put mine aside.

The promise is in doing the above we will find true life. We will live a life that is full of meaning, full of truth, full of beauty. Not a life of ease! For Christ’s way can lead to suffering. But that is up to him and I know that ultimately (the Easter and eschatological hope!) I will be a part of his kingdom which is safe and abundant forever.

But it all starts with wax on…

Wax on (click for video)

From Wonder & Awe to Dissection and Questioning (And Back Again)

(From Kevin Rains inspired by Angela’s recent post)

So I’ve had a renewed longing to study the Bible. This may seem odd to you. If you don’t me, you may think its odd because why would anyone WANT to study the Bible? At best, if you were raised in a church setting you may feel the occasional guilt or “Should” about reading the Bible. However if you’ve known me for awhile you think it odd because of course Kevin would want to study the Bible. He’s ordained. He’s a pastor. He’s a graduate student in a seminary. He HAS to study the bible.

But for me the roots go much deeper than “should” or even “have to.”

I’ve had a love for the Bible since childhood. I used to see my dad studying at our kitchen table with half a dozen books spread out before him, a legal pad and a pen. He was writing, writing, writing. Then reading, reading, reading. It seemed like whole worlds were opening up before him. In fact, they were.

I had to know for myself what all the interest and excitement was all about. So I started studying. I started – for reasons I now forget – with Jonah. Fascinating tale! An ocean adventure with all the stuff great literature is made off. Tension. Adventure. Rebellion. Divinity. Resolution. I LOVED it.

I then read Job. I was stuck on Old Testament “J” books for some reason! Here again was an amazing tale. Prosperity. Love. Loss. Deep emotional struggle. Suffering. And a prosperity regained.

More important than the great literature and tales of adventure and loss, I found a personality behind the stories. A person that was wooing me gently even as he was wowing me with adventurous tales. I felt haunted but in a good way. I sensed a Presence behind the words. Now I would say the Word behind the words.

Somewhere along the way though in the “deeper study” of my theology classes and reading what others had to say I started to lose the fascination with Scripture that my beginner’s mind had. It became a text book. It was something I read so I could learn something or resolve the questions of others or teach from. And I started to pick it apart rather than let it enlarge me.

So I’ve wrestled for years oscillating between this deep fascination and encountering of Presence to treating Scripture more clinically, dissecting it, questioning it, and using it like a commodity instead of a mystery that opens up into relationship, awe and wonder.

Today when I say I have a new longing to study the Bible, it is with this beginner’s mind again full of fascination and wonderment. It’s taken me over 30 years to get back to where I started but it was a necessary journey and I’m seeing the beginning for the first time again and the view is amazing.

Crushes, research and Bible study

I don’t remember it like it was yesterday. I remember it better than I can remember yesterday.

I was in high school. I’d recently discovered a band called The Nylons.

Image credit: Amazon

For some of us, discovering a band can be like falling in love. That first band you fall for in your early teens stays sparkling in your memory like a first crush. I had two cassette tapes–yes, cassettes–and I listened to them over and over, side A, then side B, then I’d switch to the other tape–lather, rinse, repeat. Soon I knew every lyric, every note, every inflection. This was study–I just didn’t know it at the time.

One day our class–presumably our English class, though my brain hasn’t retained that detail–went to a back room of the school library. There, our teacher introduced us to the concept of seeking sources for a research paper. She showed us an index of periodicals–a book that compiled all references to particular topics in magazines and journals. She explained that if you wanted to write a paper about, say, beekeeping, you’d look up “beekeeping” in an index, and it would list all the articles that had appeared in a given set of magazines and journals on that topic over the years. Then you could go to the public library’s periodicals collection, stored on microfilm and microfiche, find the articles and read them. (Need I point out this was pre-Internet?)

When I had the chance, I found an index dedicated to popular music and opened it to “N.” Lo and behold–there was a whole list of articles written about my band! In Variety, Billboard, Maclean’s, even Time. The articles had titles like “Seamless songs from the street,” or made references I couldn’t quite grasp. There was this sense I could step into an entirely different world if I embarked on my own personal research project.

Feeling like I’d just found the pearl of great price, I carefully copied every reference, needing to get the arcane code of volume and issue numbers down exactly to access this new knowledge. One glorious Saturday, I caught the bus downtown and spent all morning at the library learning how to use the bulky microfilm and microfiche readers in the catacombs of the library basement. I unwound spools of film, cranking them forward like on a movie projector, searching for that one frame on each spool with an article about my beloved Nylons.

This was study, too, more obviously. And it was born from wanting to know. And love (of a distinctly teenage variety).

What does all this have to do with studying the Bible?

I think it’s easy to get hung up on the idea that Bible study is something you should do, an obligation. And part of that might be because our idea of “study” has school-connotations for most of us, and in school there’s a chance we were more motivated by grades or parental pressure than by love of learning.

But study can also come from love, and it can take the form of a passion to learn.

Try this line of thought and see where it takes you. Start with something, or someone, you long to know more about. Could be anything–cooking, gardening, a place you want to visit and explore every inch of. Maybe you’re in love, and that other person is endlessly fascinating. Maybe some aspect of yourself or your behavior is puzzling you and you want to figure out your motivations. (If you don’t have any curiosity about anything or anyone at all, this line of thinking probably won’t speak to you.)

Do you have your starting point? Take it and think to yourself, “This is part of creation.” Cooking, gardening, sea anemones, carburetors, Downton Abbey, the human person–in God all live and move and have our being. And the Bible is the word of God. So study of the Bible, on the deepest level, whether you’re consciously aware of it or not, is study of the Source of the goodness you’re hungering to know. That “first crush” can take you all the way to God, if you let it.

“It is recognized that you have a funny sense of fun.”

I’ve just whiled away a happy morning reading bits of The Catechism of the Catholic Church and watching a video of Donald Knuth, father of algorithm analysis, speaking on the intersection of faith and science. I understand these activities might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I found them refreshing.

I’d pulled out the Catechism as I was working on a scripture reflection for my church bulletin; I wasn’t feeling up to the task of reflecting on John 3:16 without a sense of the lens through which my church examines scripture. I stumbled on the Donald Knuth video after looking up “John 3:16″ on Wikipedia. Karl Barth once  told theologians to “take your Bible and take your newspaper, and read both. But interpret newspapers from your Bible.” Nowadays he might advise us to read both the Bible and Wikipedia, but I imagine his rule for interpretation would be the same.

This month the focus in the prayerbook is on the discipline of study. I have always liked study in the abstract in that I like to learn. But my rebellion shows up in studying what has not been put in front of me. For instance–back in school, when we were assigned a specific story to read in class, I was always flipping through the book to read something else instead. This modern world provides oh-so-many opportunities to study what has not been assigned–especially now that Google and Amazon let you search inside books….

But what has been assigned? Is there any “required reading” out there?