Living in a 4/4 world

I don't remember how the conversation began, but the women of the house (Elizabeth, Kristen, and Mary) were talking in the living room. And, somehow, the conversation passed through the way the value of a whole rest changes depending on the time signature (remember...both daughters were/are band geeks). Listening in from the other room, I heard them reminisce about band practices in high school and one director's tendency to harp on "common time." And then Kristen turned the conversation on its head. "Yep," she said, "it's a 4/4 world."

Her comment stuck with me, and I've been ruminating on its ripples of meaning for over a month now. It's an apt description of our tendency to force everything about our world into the box called "understanding" or "explanation." We're desperately seeking a common language. I'm sure part of our desperation reflects our fear that the world in which we live is either spinning out of control or teeters on the very brink of doing so. But we are rational human beings - heirs of the mythos of science; if thinking defines our existence then it can surely order the world around us.

(Ironically, we can even "manage" diversity. Difference frightens us; we're not sure what to do with rhythms and notes and time signatures other than 4/4. So we analyze our feelings and conduct seminars and workshops, in the hopes of understanding those who are different and coping with their [our?] difference.)

And, being who I am, I also connected "common" time with the "ordinary" time of the church's calendar. And that got me thinking about the rest of the church calendar...particularly the seasons of Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. And it struck me that we have managed to construct a world in which the events of Christmas are seen as "ordinary." We have become so familiar with the story that we risk losing all sense of wonder and awe. We repeat the words of angels as if their appearance were the most normal of occasions. And the teenaged mother - pregnant out of wedlock with divine agency as her only explanation - has been "captured" by the oil and canvas of some of our most celebrated artists. Was she scared? Was she relieved when the shepherds came to the stable with their story of an angelic choir? We can only wonder, since our eyes cannot see what lies behind the beatific serenity of her painted face.

Yep, it's a 4/4 world. But I'm trying to look for signs (and wonders?) that every now and then someone (or something) might waltz through my world. Maybe God's grace....

Reading (and often writing) the footnotes

I like a good, straightforward narrative plot. But - at the same time - the footnotes fascinate me. (And by "footnotes" I mean any aside or parenthetical remark that stops the flow of the narrative/argument to offer additional information or comment.) Part of me wants to "read" quickly from start to finish. And an equally important part of me must stop to explore the comments and explanations and "referrals" that find themselves attached to the act of "reading."

Mostly, I suspect I have a fascination with words and the various contexts in which I find them. Sometimes it's a fascination with the context in which I place them and the conversations in which I get to participate. I'm an extrovert, so the conversations in which I'm engaged are often public and sometimes a little disjointed. And I always seem to be looking for the (apparantly random/serendipitous) word(s) that will engender the next train of (possibly productive) thought.

I write for many of the same reasons as I talk. Most jobs in academic life (including mine) demand some measure of both writing and speaking. Sometimes people invite me to speak as a scholar or a minister; sometimes I am invited to write in one/both of those roles.

Sometimes I feel inspired (or bemused, depending on one's perception). And, for whatever reason, I am willing to consider the possibility that some might be interested in reading what I have written. This is the context I will most often choose for those words, and you have (wittingly or not) landed on the "spot." Some of you - I'll confess - I have invited to the "spot," in the hopes that we might continue conversations begun in another context, and some of you receieved an invitation just because you have flattered me in the past by suggesting that you enjoyed something I wrote or said. The rest of you are welcome, too, for as long as you care to "read" and write.

I'm just enough of an optimist to hope that we will all profit from the conversation(s).