Olympia Photo Shoot

Joann and I had a pre-Super Bowl party ("party" being the two of us) photo shoot today. I thought having some visuals of the place we've called home for the entirety of our married life might be worth sharing...

Batdorf and Bronson's—our preferred coffee shop.


The Spar—the lone McMenamins in Olympia, and a comforting taste of our beloved Portland.


The intersection of Boston Harbor and Zangle—approximately 7.75 miles from our apartment and the point to which I ran yesterday as part of my marathon training during my 15-mile run (new high!).


Down on Capitol Lake.


The marina. And, Joann’s crazy.


“You dare challenge me, a Kung Fu master? Come any closer and I’ll finish you off with my ball point pen chopsticks! Then I’ll likely grab a bite at Happy T’s! The Hot Chicken is gloriously spicy! Mwah ha ha!”


The Evergreen State College, former residence of Matt Groening and Carrie Brownstein, and now…Muneer Bashaweeh And Ewelina Lukaszewska (two of my students from Saudi Arabia and Poland, respectively...perhaps not all that famous yet.)


Lost in the woods near Olympia, but not so concerned about our situation that we don’t have time to pose for a photo.


“Okay…fine Joann! We’ll end this stupid photo shoot and go home to watch the super bowl and eat leftover pizza! That sounds SO much better than this, anyway! And, uh, go Vikings!”

“Do you enjoy having sex?” and Other Inappropriate Comments (or, Fun in Culture Class)

I continue to be enriched by teaching English and being a part of an international community at EF Evergreen. After Christmas break I had a significant schedule change, picking up a number of new students. Before, I was teaching mostly the mid-level students; now I’m teaching both our most advanced English speakers as well as our beginning English speakers.

And being a part of each group brings different rewards. Improvement is obvious with beginners. And being able to identify progress and growth is always a great feeling for a teacher.

It can be difficult at times, for sure. I find people outside of the ESL world are often puzzled about how we’re able to teach beginners without knowledge of their language. My Spanish students are a bit easier because I can occasionally “cheat” and explain something with my own intermediate-level Spanish. But with my Arab students, for example, I’m lost.

So how do I do it? With a good deal of patience. And I hope and pray my students retain the same kind of patience. In general, they just kind of stumble through it and figure it out. There are many educators here with the philosophy that students actually learn a language better from total immersion, without the crutch of someone who can translate from their language to another. I was skeptical at first, though I’ve come to believe it. I do encourage use of electronic translators and dictionaries, but students often make progress without them.

But depth of discussion is obviously lacking with beginners. Which is why I'm so grateful for my new class “Culture, Music, and All,” a class without a curriculum in which I can essentially go in any direction I choose. And the students are fairly strong speakers, enabling more thoughtful discussion.

Selfishly, I would hate to give this class up. I get to discuss relevant-to-life topics with an international community, guiding thoughtful discussion and frequently playing mediator when it gets heated or it feels like people are simply talking past one another.

On the first day of class I gave a brief lecture on epistemology. The purpose was mostly to reveal my biases to the class and encourage them to open themselves up to learning from one another. I described myself as a sort of pluralist—in the sense that I believe our ability to know Truth and more fully get our heads around “how things really are” is limited when we isolate ourselves from other people groups and enhanced by our interaction with such diverse communities.

Granted, I personally believe that the Christian narrative tells the story of a unique revelation of Truth by God in the very unique life, actions, and person of Jesus. That’s partly why I identify as a Christian and not something else. But I also believe there is one God, not many, and that something like the old Indian tale of blind men grasping at an elephant and reporting their varied interpretations of the experience is somewhat appropriate here. I may follow Jesus, but there are a multitude of people and places in this world where I’ve yet to encounter the God I believe to be present everywhere.

In less “religious” terms, I try to lead a class interested in getting a better sense of reality with the aid of others. I try to foster a self-reflective spirit among my students, encouraging them to more deeply seek understanding, as well as appreciation of and reconciliation with others. I can only do so much, I realize; some of them may even be further along than me in this area. But I have to think I can at least make a dent. And at least I’m benefiting and being changed by the class, if they aren’t.

On MLK day, we had an engaging discussion about prejudice and racial issues. We talked about the presence of racism in students’ home countries, the values of a homogeneous vs. diverse society, causes of prejudice, and American immigration issues (and to what extent these are racial issues).

I had a slightly awkward blunder during this discussion. I accidently referred to my ethnicity as “normal.” I had 3-4 students vocally displeased. I tried to turn it into a teachable moment, asking them why my comment bothered them so much. As I hope became obvious to them all, in light of earlier comments I made about ethnocentrism and racism, my point was that I’m in the ethnic majority in America. “In the majority” probably would have been better than “normal,” as some interpreted that as “best” or “most right” or “superior.” Oops. My students don’t let me get away with stuff like that.

It was a good discussion. One student expressed that in her (Asian) country, she doesn’t really experience racial prejudice because everyone looks the same. Another (European) student expressed similar prejudices in his country toward immigrants as in the US. Another (South American) student talked about how he and his fellow non-Black friends call each other the “n-word” (only he comfortably used the actual word in class).

His willingness to say the word contrasted with my discomfort with it is in itself revealing about the value a culture ascribes to language. I warned him (and others) how serious the word was, and that it would be wise to not use the word here. Especially at Evergreen, where tolerance and issues of social justice matter. And since most tolerant people tend to be pretty intolerant of intolerant people, he’d probably get himself in trouble.

I’ve incorporated music into a couple lessons, bringing my guitar and playing popular songs as a means to improve listening ability as well as discuss the poetry of the music. It seems to be an effective teaching tool. It’s fun to try to discern together the possible meanings of the lyrics, talking about various references and idioms along the way. So far we’ve discussed “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” by Death Cab For Cutie and “A Long December” by Counting Crows.

Fun conversations (and a bit of confusion) have followed, especially centered on such topics as hotel “No Vacancy” signs, popular sentiments about the harshness of Catholic School, the afterlife, breakups, regrets and second chances, hopes and resolutions, and Californian geography. And the meaning of “na.” (No meaning, we concluded.)

We’ve had several comparative discussions about the differences between the US and the respective countries of my students in regard to facial and hand gestures (like giving someone the finger), spatial issues (like not sitting in the seat next to someone on a near-empty bus), and acceptable topics of conversation with someone you've just met.

I did some role play with a student, pretending to have just met him and then trying to make as many socially unacceptable remarks as I could in a short conversation. I was pretty obvious in my inappropriateness and so I think most students got the joke (and point). The line alluded to in the title of this blog post was one such inappropriate remark. I also asked him “So you must make a lot of money, right?” and “So what do you think of Black people?”

I also had an awkward moment talking about gesture-related idioms (e.g., “Could you give me a hand?” or “giving her the cold shoulder”). Most of the expressions in the worksheet I used were legitimate, commonly-used expressions, except one. “To finger something or someone” was defined as “to steal or tell on someone.” The material I was using may be a bit outdated or something. I quickly urged them to avoid use of the expression. I dropped a few hints without being too blunt; I think most of them got my drift.

Through moments of both depth and levity, this class is truly a gift.

The State of the Union/Church: Civility and Competition

Joann and I watched the State of the Union the other night. Truthfully, part of the fun of our viewing experience was our heckling. We couldn’t help but visualize Fred Armisen (SNL) every time Obama spoke with his distinct cadence. And the woman in the audience spoken of by Obama who, with cameras on her, clarified for those around her, “that’s me…that’s me,” gave me a good laugh. And John Boehner’s grimaces and discomfort with many of Obama’s remarks contrasted with Biden’s laid-back, occasionally amused demeanor was entertaining.

I also watched with curiosity about our nation’s direction, as I’m heavily concerned with exploring how the Church should respond to and engage with the issues of our time. There were the usual issues mentioned which Christians often address with conflicting opinions—our wars abroad, oil and the environment, spending. But there were a couple of themes in particular that jumped out at me.

First, an admission of my assumptions. I don’t think the Church should be disengaged with social and political issues, as we have a voice that should be heard. I also understand the Church to be, by the intent of its founder, a radical community (hopefully radical about the right things). I believe we should strive to make the love of God known by manifesting that love in all facets of our lives—personal and social. I think sometimes our witness will involve activism. But I may be more interested in how the Church should be embodying in its own community the kind of action we hope to see taken by our greater national community, so that we can truly be a light. We must both speak out as well deal with our own internal struggles.

1) Civility. I would love to be able to tell my non-Christian friends, “You’re frustrated with the lack of civility in public discourse? Then look to the Church for hope—it is a shining example of what it means to have respectful, truth-seeking dialogue!”

I suppose my perspective is a bit jaded by a series of church conflicts involving friends and friends of friends. And the story seems fairly similar in a lot of these conflicts, usually involving either some element of personal attack, passive-aggressive behavior, hidden agendas, or one party refusing to budge on its position or perspective, seemingly convinced that being open-minded or truly listening to the other puts one at risk of “losing the battle” or being wrong.

It seems we even give the illusion at times of being civil, when such civility is more of a surfacy “niceness” hiding less kind feelings, rather than sincere kindness and warmth. I also observe a lot of Christian dialogue online, which is sometimes very respectable but at times can get heated, typically involving those who are more religiously conservative attacking the more liberal, though it does go both ways.

Civility in politics is a problem, yes. I got a bit annoyed hearing that Rush Limbaugh recently did some kind of derogatory impression of Asian people. Not that I idolized him and have been suddenly disillusioned. Speaking of Limbaugh, am I the only one that finds it hilarious that an SNL alum (Al Franken) is a senator now? Can’t wait for Will Ferrell and Amy Poehler to enter the political arena. Yes, imagine it…hard not to smile, right?

But civility in the Church can be a problem too, and being a witness to the world means getting our act together on this matter, I think. I want my fellow Christians and I to be a model to the world about what it means to engage in dialogue in a way that doesn’t reflect partisanship, defensiveness, stubbornness, or laziness, but that reflects a love-driven pursuit of truth, justice and goodness for all. I hope that, in light of the current political climate, Christian leaders are teaching their communities the importance of such discourse and modeling it themselves.

2) Competition. I think my bias here is not informed by my religious convictions alone but also my experiences with an international community. As I listened to Obama push for a spirit of learning and investment in various projects, citing frequently the need to “lead the world” when it comes to our success as nation, I wondered: is this an attitude that I, as a follower of Christ, can get behind?

I think having lived outside of America for a while, in the home of our apparent new economic “enemy,” China, I have been gradually losing whatever nationalism I possessed. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for the life I’ve been afforded, a life heavily shaped by living in a capitalistic society that perhaps got where it was because of a competitive drive to be the best. But as people seem more willing to admit today than when I was in grade school, our nation’s founding and early successes came at the expense of others, be they Native Americans or slaves or the nation’s poor.

I get why being competitive can be good. I’ve heard the arguments that economic competition doesn’t necessitate that some win and some lose but rather that wealth is created and not simply transferred. And perhaps the competitive spirit, as in sports, spurs people on to be the best they can be.

But as a person who doesn’t find my identity primarily in being an American but in being a part of the diverse human community, created and loved by God, it’s hard to get excited about the idea that it’s an inherent good for my nation to be the best at everything.

Optimistically, maybe such fervor can inspire other nations to improve their situations and economies and quality of life, while also inspiring Americans to collaborate, work hard and empower individuals who are “stuck” to find hope and inspiration to improve their lives while also encouraging parents to be better parents.

Pessimistically, maybe such competitive fervor encourages other nations (like China) to continue to raise up success as a goal and pursue rapid growth at the expense of its families and its spiritual and emotional health, while at the same time teaching Americans that what counts is being the best, turning us inward and encouraging excessive nationalism, and turning progress into an idol that destroys our soul.

I don’t really know. The heart of the issue for me is whether or not the Church can come alongside this competitive spirit and also be faithful to the spirit of Jesus. I think the Church often acts competitively. Churches, maybe not in words but in practice, seem to compete with each other, hoping their particular set of programs, worship, preaching, community, whatever, will draw people. I’ve heard it said many times that most church growth today is actually transfer growth—people leaving one church for another.

I also wonder if maybe the way we’ve been taught to share our faith with others has a bit of a competitive edge, in that the thought of conversion and church growth is thrilling and/or validating because such things indicate that “we’re on the winning team” and give us a sense of rightness or security. But I don’t think the Church will ever be on the “winning” team in our world, at least not until the end of all things when all will one day know more fully and accurately (even Christians) who God is. I tend to think our goal as the Church should not be to prove ourselves as much as live as faithful witnesses to a God of love, offering people hope and bringing about change where appropriate. We’re called to be faithful, not victorious; I believe victory is God’s department.

I think this issue, like that of immigration, poses a similar set of challenges to the Church: to question any “us vs. them” mentality; to grapple with what it means to love our neighbor as ourselves on a global scale; to wrestle with what we assume we are entitled to because we have been born and raised in America; and to consider what our part as the Church is in such matters. Is it to mind our own business and stay out of politics? To play the role that liberals want the government to play and conservatives want the family to play? To live as a light to the world in the way we dialogue, collaborate, and understand the worth of every individual be they from our own tribe or another? To heckle? :)

Thoughts on Tiger Mothers

I’ve enjoyed the recent discussion about Chinese parenting, spurred on by Amy Chua’s new book. If you haven’t heard much about it, check out this article from the Wall Street Journal: “Why Chinese Mothers are Superior.” I’d say try to read it with an open mind. Or maybe read it with your regular mind, then re-read it with an open mind.

While not yet a parent, I do plan on becoming one at some point; that’s one part of the intrigue of the article for me. But I think on a more emotional level, the article takes me back to some of the discomfort I felt in China last year regarding approaches to parenting.

The article is meant to be provocative, and it is. It actually provides some good critiques of American parenting, addressing values such as self-esteem and freedom of choice/expression/path. There’s a lot that may be agitating to an American reader here, especially her advocacy for a high amount of restrictions, shaming children into success, and near-complete dictation of children’s interests and time commitments.

This mindset to some degree informed the way I encouraged my students in China. I did have to be careful, because it was and is a challenge to recognize my cultural biases and discern what is simply different from what I believe is actually unhealthy. For example, I encountered a lot of students who were very open about their greatest ambition: to be rich. You’re not supposed to admit that all you care about is money, right? In China, it simply seemed to make sense to them. You work hard to become successful to make money.

But to their credit, this motivation for money-making may reflect China’s more collectivist worldview. I imagine many students wanted to make money because they know that’s what keeps the system going—that’s how they’ll provide for their families, that’s how they’ll contribute to society. I don’t want to deny that there is greed at work here, and that money is a widespread idol that won’t truly bring my students fulfillment. But it’s also tied in with more respectable realities, such as China’s “filial piety” culture.

So I would guess part of the reason Chinese parents generally (trying to avoid stereotyping) are stricter with their children is motivated by love as well as the nature of Chinese society: they believe that their child’s happiness and well-being is dependent on children excelling at something and thus becoming successful and making a lot of money—an excellence that will only come from intense pressure, discipline, and guidance from the parents.

Not to mention the parents’ well-being, since most children are expected to provide for their parents. That, combined with China’s honor culture, makes me sympathize with their situation. If your well-being and sense of honor is heavily dependent on your child’s success, then wouldn’t it be hard to not be harsh, controlling, and demanding of your children rather than giving them the space to fail, go at their own pace, let them express themselves, "find" themselves like we do in America?

I think Chinese parents who operate like Chua describes in her article truly believe they’re doing the right thing. But I also think a person can be motivated by love but express that love in a poor way. Is that fair to say? I can feel love toward someone, adore them, think highly of them, but the actual ways that I choose to express that love might be unhelpful, destructive, or ineffective. The problem is not in my feelings toward someone, but in my methods, the expressions of that love. I think a bit of open-minded, self-criticism can be a good thing when it comes to the ways we actively love those around us.

And I think that’s the problem I have with what I saw in China. It was a challenge not to be judgmental of what I witnessed in the lives and stories of my students. It was easy to think of myself as a sort of John Keating, trying to help my Chinese students and friends “seize the day” rather than follow a prescribed path set out for them. Just because a parent determines a career for you doesn’t mean it’s fitting for you.

I try to hold nature and nurture in tension; I recognize some of us may be predisposed toward certain interests and skills, but that to some extent those interests and skills can be chosen by us (or our parents). And I also hold in tension young people’s free will and their incapability of choice (in other words, do children really know what’s best for themselves?).

I think the underlying assumption of Chua’s style of parenting is that children don’t know what’s best for them, and need to have their decisions made for them. I suppose balance is key here, as in many things: a parenting style that recognizes children’s naivety while also respecting their individuality and freedom.

Maybe our American emphasis on self-esteem and self-discovery has the potential to instill negative tendencies in children, such as a strong sense of entitlement, indifference to the greater good of society, a poor work ethic, or maybe even a kind of psychological/emotional dependency on constant praise and validation. But the dangers of opposite emphases are there too, as I encountered in China.

I encountered what I believe are tragic byproducts of the pressure placed on students by parents: students miserable with their major, chosen for them by parents; stories of student suicides related to poor grades and fear of parent reaction; students skilled in memorization and repetition but less in creative and critical thinking; a physically-abused female student unwilling to tell her parents for fear of being blamed and shamed; students feeling insecure about weight and appearance aided by their parents’ bluntness in calling them “fat;” female students affected in different ways by their parents’ disappointment at not having a boy; the way students were sheltered from such things as sexuality, which—while motivated by a desire to keep their children pure and focused—for many seemed to just lead to later mistakes due to ignorance about sexuality; and a general lack of self-confidence and fear of standing out or looking silly.

Some of my critiques here are admittedly reflective of my bias, which was part of the challenge—wrestling with what was wrong versus what was just different.

But the other important factor for me is that I’m a Christian. And thus I believe that my conclusions about appropriate parenting should be informed by my Christian convictions. Through these lenses, I find it really hard to see the goodness in the kind of parenting Chua is describing. Part of this is because the “ends” of Chua’s parenting and the ends of the Christian life are different, I think. Chua wants her kids to be successful, and seems to believe that such success will bring happiness.

A parent of a student I visited with last year in China told me the most important thing to him in life was money. When you have money, he said, then you are free to do what you want and are in greater control of your life. But the goals of the Christian life are not success, control, spending power. Even if an individual is “successful,” or if an entire country is successful, does that mean they are truly better off, in God’s economy of what it means to be well-off or blessed? This is the question I have to ask if I’m to be faithful to my religious convictions.

Anyway… read the article. Those of you who are parents or even psychologists might be better able to speak to this issue than me. I'm no parenting expert (though, Mom and Dad, I know you guys nailed it, nice work...wait, that sounds like an indirect self-compliment, doesn't it?). I’m curious to know how others respond to what Chua has to say—with repulsion? Sympathy? With self-criticism of your own parenting? More confidence in your own parenting? Feedback welcome.

A Whimsical but Heartfelt Tribute to My Childhood Dog, Snickers (1992-2011)

It was a weekend of grieving but also of relief. The picture above and the pictures below are from the last hour of Snickers’ life. After some ethical wrestling, the difficult decision was made by our family to have him put down this past weekend.

I got Snickers for my 10th birthday, and I’m now nearly 28. The stubborn dog just wouldn’t die, far outliving what anyone expected. But while his heart was still beating, his age was definitely showing, as in recent years he’d lost much of his hearing and sight, his ability to walk well, his teeth, his sense of direction (maybe due to sight), his ability to control his bowels, while also having grown several tumors on his body.

We thought it to be the merciful thing to do to put him to sleep—both for him, and also for my mother I’d say. I haven’t lived at home regularly in a decade, while my mom has very faithfully taken care of him even when taking care of him became an increasingly greater burden. She certainly has had a more difficult time with what has transpired, as her and Snickers’ lives have been a bit more interwoven than his and mine in recent years.

It wasn’t easy. But I’m content with the closure I felt I had. I picked Snickers up from my parents' house and took him to my Grandma’s more spacious property to walk around a bit, hoping maybe the exercise might wear him out and save me a trip to the vet. Actually, I tried to reason with him the night before, suggesting that it might be worth just dying in his sleep, since he doesn’t care much for the vet anyway. I don’t think he considered it that extensively. I also don’t think he understands much beyond a few English words.

Anyway, we wandered around a bit, hobbling more than walking, before I spent a while massaging him and scratching him, trying to make sure his last hour was filled with love. And it is love. It might sound a bit like hyperbole to those who aren’t really dog people, but we loved Snickers and were loved by him in a very real way.

I don’t know how lovable Snickers actually is, really. He ate, slept, barked, shed hair, humped inanimate objects and human legs in his younger years—a fairly simple life. I imagine part of his gift to my family, part of his “act of love” was giving us the opportunity to love him—especially my Mom, who, as I said, very faithfully attended to his needs, but also me to some extent, as my childhood and the occasional visits home in my twenties afforded me the opportunity to shower him with affection and attention.

It’s hard to pinpoint to what extent Snickers actually made me more aware of the beauty of Love and more able to give such love in my relationships with others. But I imagine it helped, if only a little bit.

I didn’t cry. I haven’t really cried about any life circumstances in a long time. The only times my eyes get watery are when my contacts are bothering me. Or every time little Forrest breaks free of his braces while Alan Silvestri’s gorgeous score supports his liberation; or when Andy and Red finally meet on a Mexican beach and hope is fulfilled. I probably also cried the first time I saw Simba claim his throne, or cried in fear the first time I heard one of Samuel L. Jackson’s Bible-quoting, pre-murder speeches. 1994 was a very good year for movies.

While I didn’t shed tears, I still felt my heart racing, especially looking into Snickers' eyes and holding him still while the shot was given, catching him in my arms as he slowly drifted off. My heart was also racing while carrying him out of the vet hospital, having to tell several children in the waiting room “he’s just sleeping!” while looking apologetically at the parents who probably didn’t want their kids watching.

I dug a deep grave, buried him, made a makeshift cross out of discarded parts of our old deck, and offered a fairly lighthearted speech with Joann and my Dad standing by. I poked a bit of fun at my dog, shared some nostalgic remembrances, and offered a hopeful prayer that in the end—when I believe God will usher in a new creation, restored, reconciled, and made whole—God might find it in his heart to welcome Snickers into this new world. I don’t know if all dogs go to heaven, as the forgettable animated movie from my childhood suggests. But here’s hoping Snickers makes it. :)

Thanks Snickers, for being a part of our lives. Rest in peace.

Top Ten Books of 2010

Inspired by my friend Jeff’s recent blog post (translation: stole his idea), I thought it worth sharing my favorite reads from this past year, to think back to my recent influences. There’s also a chance one of these books catches your eye. Since I’m not listing any books I didn’t enjoy here, I recommend them all!

Without further ado…

10) What is the What? by Dave Eggers. I might be including this above a couple other better books. It’s a slightly fictionalized story centered on the real experiences and recollections of one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. The glimpse into history was great, the story both fun at times and horrifying at others. And it’s the closest thing to fiction I read this past year, so I felt I should include it. Hopefully 2011 fares better for fiction for this Literature major. Or people will start thinking I take life way too seriously.

9) The Hauerwas Reader by Stanley Hauerwas. It was the year of Hauerwas for me, as indicated by the fact that three of his books made my top ten. This book is a hefty collection of lectures and speeches from arguably one the most important American theologians writing today. His reflections on narrative theology, ethics, the importance of character in the Christian life, and nonviolence have all been hugely influential in my recent thinking (and hopefully acting).

8) It’s Really All About God: Reflection of a Muslim Atheist Jewish Christian by Samir Selmanovic. A provocative, challenging call to interfaith dialogue, to expecting to find God in the faith and actions of those with little concern for Jesus, and to recognize along with the writer of James how lacking and empty a “faith” or “religion” is that doesn’t include practical, tangible actions of love by those claiming such a faith. Nice mix of narrative and theology.

7) Sheet Music by Dr. Kevin Leman. I had to include this book here, not necessarily because it was an excellent read, as much as a sort of rite of passage book for me, seeing as the window of time in which I think I’d actually have much interest in reading such a book was pretty brief. It’s a sex book. And to some extent, it really was pretty fun and helpful. As much as I’d like to arrogantly say most of its’ content was pretty intuitive for me, it contained a few helpful insights. Unfortunately, the author sort of lost me part way through the book when he opted to begin using the term “Mr. Happy” instead of the more technical, and in my mind, appropriate name for that particular body part. A renowned sex psychologist seemed to all of the sudden feel a bit sheepish about his terms. That annoyed me and brought the book down a few notches.

6) Justification by N.T. Wright. This may be the least accessible book of all that I’ve listed here, though an important contribution to the scholarly work that’s been done on “The New Perspective.” Wright makes a case that we misinterpret Paul by assuming that in his writings on salvation and justification he was rejecting good works as having relevance to our salvation. Wright argues that many since Luther (though not necessarily including Luther) have been too rash in rejecting “works” in the Christian life and in so doing the Church has not been as mindful as it could be of its calling to be God’s covenant community—like the Jewish people who preceded the Christian Church—a community that by its Christ-inspired works and deeds (or whatever you want to call them) gives people a sign and a foretaste of what God has done and will do. If you like John Piper, you might not like the book (much of Wright’s work in a response to attacks, er, “critiques” from Piper).

5) The Genesee Diary by Henri Nouwen. An essential Nouwen book I hadn’t yet acquired. This has acted as a morning devotional for me for some time now, as Nouwen’s raw recollections of the kind of ugly truths he discovers about himself when removed from the comforts of his profession and fame have challenged me to prayerfully consider my own ugly tendencies, especially the ways that I, like Nouwen, am a very needy individual desperately seeking validation in ways that can cause me to do more harm than good in the lives of others.

4) In the End—The Beginning: The Life of Hope by Jurgen Moltmann. I was interested in this book because I felt like I was missing out on something having never read Moltmann. I was. I have another of his books on my “to-read” list in the new year. This seems like it’s probably one of his more accessible books on a prominent theme of his: hope. Moltmann, among others, has been helpful in showing me how important eschatology is in understanding how we are to live now as a Christian community, orienting our lives toward that final end in a way that brings life and hope to the world now. Eschatology, that is, not as in pointless speculation about exactly how the world’s going to go to hell in the last days but as in the promised end of humankind, a restored and reconciled humankind foreshadowed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. And, I can’t resist…a Shawshank quote: “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things…and no good thing ever dies.”

3) The Peaceable Kingdom by Stanley Hauerwas. This seems like a good starting point for someone wanting to delve into Hauerwas, much like I often recommend The Gospel in a Pluralist Society for someone searching for Newbigin’s (the focus of my master’s thesis) most thematically comprehensive work. Hauerwas writes so compelling about the church’s responsibility, as he sees it, to take seriously our call to live virtuously, ethically, peaceably with one another, because—others are watching, and because it’s our call—to be a community of people that give the world a glimpse of what God’s Kingdom will one day look like. But beware—this is the kind of theology that can make the Christian life seem more difficult, less comfortable. Though without such an approach to following Jesus, I’d say the Christian life is not that qualitatively different from non-Christian life, other than in the sense that we do more churchy things.

2) Exclusion and Embrace by Miroslav Volf. Volf is probably my favorite go-to on matters of reconciliation. This was a great critique of our all-too-common failures to appropriately respond to what is “other” to us. On our problem: “We exclude because we are uncomfortable with anything that blurs accepted boundaries, disturbs our identities, and disarranges our symbolic cultural maps” (78). On one part of the solution: “We move into the world of the other temporarily…we use imagination to see why their perspective about themselves, about us, and about our common history, can be so plausible to them whereas it is implausible, profoundly strange, or even offensive to us.” (252).

1) Hannah’s Child: A Theologian’s Memoir by Stanley Hauerwas. I ended the year with this book, and I really have to fight idolizing this brilliant, baseball-loving, running, humble, direct and honest old man. I’m hoping to initiate some kind of correspondence with him, especially since he teaches at Duke Divinity School, where I think I have a fool’s chance of actually getting accepted to for a PhD (but will apply nonetheless). This was a whole other side of him, a bit more transparent than his more academic work. A sample, on childhood: “The family loved to tell the story of how Billy Dick, my six-year old cousin, reacted to the story of the crucifixion at Sunday School by shouting out, ‘If Gene Autry had been there the dirty sons of bitches wouldn’t have gotten away with it.’ Of course, we knew you should not say “sons of bitches,” particularly in Sunday School…” (6).

Already devouring several new books for 2011!