Beauteous Are My Cakes Indeed

"O my sons and my daughters, how I love thee! How I wish to provide for thee! Yea, I long to surround thee with delicious smells, heavenly smells! How gladly will I sit thee down in my banquet hall, for beauteous are the cakes therein!  Oh, golden is my syrup! And unto me shall gather the hungry from every nation --"

Young Reuben and Bethany sneak down into the kitchen in the church to escape the sanctuary.  Amidst the sweet and innocent flirting (complete with hand-fed orange slices), they have the bright idea to make some pancakes.  Post-consumption they head back up to the sanctuary, feeling slightly convicted for their pancake-making escapades.  The smell of pancakes fills the sanctuary, and lo and behold, these are the words delivered from the pulpit.  The irony and humor of this situation stuck out to me, so I figured what better way to embrace this but to MAKE PANCAKES!

And, thus, my house too smelled of delicious smells, heavenly smells!

Unlike Reuben and Bethany, we decided to spice things up with some bananas and chocolate chips.  Yum!

 And unto my kitchen gathered the hungry from every nation - well, at least the hungry from next door.

And one closing thought: next time you make pancakes, add a little Nutella to the mix or place a dollop on top.  Delightful!

Function.

The dictionary defines “function” as “an activity or purpose natural to or intended for a person or thing” or “practical use or purpose in design.”  As humans, when we create, we attach a function to our creation.  There are tools that we use day in and day out with a specific function and it would seem illogical to use them otherwise.  But perhaps function is not concrete, but rather relative. In “The Road” this is clearly portrayed.  Everyday objects suddenly become useless, unless given new meaning.  

In class, we have discussed how ordinary items are now used as a means for survival.  Suddenly, these things become necessary to live.  Each time the man finds a new “store” he examines objects to see how they could be used.  For example, the tarp now becomes their shelter, their floor, and their dining room table.  The cart becomes their closet.  A simple glass bottle and some fabric is now a lantern.  These objects now have one function: survival.

But what intrigues me more is the exploration of items whose function used to be for survival.  The things that were once used to preserve life are now used for destruction.  The pistol is not only used for self-defense and protection, but also as a means of voluntary death.  A knot forms in the readers stomach when he reads the father say to the son, “If they find you you are going to have to do it.  Do you understand? Shh.  No crying.  Do you hear me? You know how to do it.  You put it in your mouth and point it up.  Do it quick and hard.  Do you understand? Stop crying.  Do you understand? (113)” The gun is no longer a means for survival, but a means for an end.  This is seen again in the story of the woman’s suicide.  She uses a flake of obsidian to end herself.  Obsidian, once used to save lives as a blade used in surgical procedures, ends hers.

This is seen again through the example of the bunker.  What was once created to be a safe haven of protection has become one of the most obvious places for danger to come and find them.  The father knows this and attempts to conceal the door.  Also, the flare gun, which once would have been used to signal rescue and bring life, is now used as a means of defense and destruction.

Feeling Reflective

With the break in our reading in lieu of the midterm, some of the themes in the texts have had time to simmer in my brain and be applied to my life, particularly from "Hills Like White Elephants" and "The Pomegranate."

In "Hills Like White Elephants," for pages a couple is speaking without actually communicating.  Neither of them actually say what they are feeling, but rather mask their opinion for fear of the other's response.  Their conversation is light and ambiguous while the topic they are discussing is in all actuality dark and weighty.  This has caused me to evaluate my the communication in my own relationships.  Do I speak without actually communicating? Am I too passive-agressive to actually say something?  I think that lack of true communication stems from fear of vulnerability and intimacy, rooted in insecurity and a lack of self-confidence.  Today I am challenging myself to strive for honest communication.  For too long my voice has been muted by the fear that others will not want to hear what it has to say.  Honesty, even when uncomfortable, is the foundation for healthy and fulfilling relationships in life.  Yet it takes courage and discipline to develop this.

In "The Pomegranate, " the mother says (in reference to her daughter), "If I defer the grief, I will diminish the gift."  She wishes that she could protect her daughter, and keep her from all trouble.  But it is in the things that bring pain that lessons are learned.  Suffering is, at times, a gift.  I need to remind myself this.  The turmoil that I am experiencing, the unstable foundation that my life seems to currently be standing on, is molding me, shaping me, and beautifully teaching me life.  The restless nights from schoolwork, job-work, and serving others are worth it.  The reward will not come now.  Today's grief will usher in tomorrow's gift.

I Desire Inequality.

"The year was 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren't only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else."

This is the opening paragraph of the short story "Harrison Bergeron" by Kurt Vonnegut.  When I first read those words I thought that it was a beautiful statement.  Equality has finally come.  Everyone, of every color, of every background, of every facet of difference, is finally treated the same in society.  But I now say this:  I do not want to live in a society of equality. I'm not talking about equality in relation to an oppressed group.  I think often we confuse justice with equality.  Most times in history when people want equality, what they're really desiring is justice.  Equality is, in fact, undesirable.

If true equality means that all become equal, then things must also be subtracted.  Giving rights to one group must also lead to taking rights from another.  In the story, ALL are equal in EVERY way.  Equality in this fictional world is achieved by taking away the outstanding characteristics of individuals.  A handicap is given to camouflage any good quality about anyone.  Beauty is masked, intelligence is hidden, and talent is concealed.

But let's be honest for a moment.  At one time or another haven't we all wished this upon someone else?  Even right here on this campus.  We see the remarkable qualities in others, and in the midst of our jealousy wish there was a way that we could strip them of their talents, of the things that make them them.  And why do we want this?  Because it will make us feel better about ourselves.  But they're too good.  People won't see me because they're obstructing the view.  I won't get my chance because they're in the way.  I think that we need to stop desiring equality and deal with our own jealousy.  Because after all, our worth only comes from one place: from the fact that we are made in the image and likeness of God.  Each in our own unique and individual ways.

Rejoice in other's victories. But realize that you will never be them, for you are you.  Celebrate your external inequalities; relish in the things that make you unique.  For in your inequalities, you are still equal in worth:  you're made in Christ's very own image.

A Dream Deferred

Two years ago I took a road trip with my brothers.  We departed from our home in Pennsylvania and ended our journey here in Lakeland.  Our trip was loud and filled with laughter and memories as we stopped in various cities we had mapped out in our planning.  But there was one place amidst the noise of our adventure that is distinguished in my mind by its moving silence.  We were in Memphis, Tennessee standing outside the Lorraine Motel, eyes locked on the balcony where Martin Luther King, Jr was assassinated some 41 years earlier.  The silence lingered as there were no words fitting to express the overwhelming emotion.  How does the life of a man with such compassion, such dreams, and such passionate pursuit of justice be brought to such a tragic end?  How could so much hate collide with such immense love at one moment?  It was a time where injustice festered in America; all value was stripped away from a portion of humanity.  In an instant, a dream was seemingly shattered.  What then?  Langston Hughes writes:



What happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry up
like A RAISIN IN THE SUN?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.Or does it explode?

The day before his death, Martin Luther King, Jr delivered a speech in which he said, "I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land.  I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land.  So I'm happy tonight.  I'm not worried about anything.  I'm not fearing any man."  His dream was fulfilled long after his life was ended.  His vision of justice manifested itself long after that day in 1968.  I believe that there is strength in dreams.  I believe that there is power in a vision for the future.  I believe that justice is possible.  I believe that "injustice everywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."  I believe that justice is possible today, even in our world immersed in child prostitution, poverty,  and war, where human lives are bought and sold, where hatred runs rampant.  I believe that one day, through the actions of dreamers, value will be restored to humanity.

Wrong Dreams. Right Dreams.

“He had all the wrong dreams.  All, all, wrong...He never knew who he was” (Miller 111).  These are Biff’s words at his father’s funeral.  What is a dream?  Is it a something that our imagination makes without our consent?  Or is it something that we create ourselves?  We can scientifically study the dreams that come in our slumber, but what about the dreams that are born while we are awake?  One definition of dream is “a strongly desired goal or purpose.”  A dream is something that we wish to accomplish.  One must first discover and create for himself something that he wishes to accomplish.  As Biff so painfully states, his father did not know who he was; Biff later sharply says that he knows who he is.  A dream comes first from finding something that is personally fulfilling.  Willy Loman’s dreams led to dead ends because they were adopted from the heart of another man and founded in the opinions of outside sources.  I contest to say that a dream is something one must work for.  The dreams we discover are not our fate, but our choice.  It is a choice to work for and accomplish the dreams our heart hold for our lives.  According to the Oxford English Dictionary, one early use of the word dream derived in Old English is a verb meaning “To make a musical or joyful noise; to make melody.”  To dream is to take action; it is a verb.  To dream is to make an audible sound that others can hear.  To dream is to bring joy to the heart.  Three-time track and field Olympian Gail Devers once said, “Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.”  Willy Loman did not know what it meant to dream, to find something fulfilling and work towards it with determination.  Amidst the dreary and dismal background of Death of a Salesman, there is perhaps a gleam of light coming in at the close: Biff’s realization that self-revelation leads to the right kind of dreams.

Miller, Arthur. Death of a Salesman. New York: Penguin, 1998. Print.

This is meaningless.

I dream of living an incredible life of adventure.  I aspire to embrace life and all that it has to offer, yet often I find myself feeling unfulfilled.  This idea has caused me to reflect on Ecclesiastes 2.  Over seven times the writer claims that the approach to life he has tried is meaningless.  He pursues pleasures, seeks wisdom, works the earth, and gains wealth, yet finds that all of this is meaningless in the fulfillment of the heart.  But if all is meaningless, how do I find meaning?  At the end of the chapter, beginning in verse 24, he says, “A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment? To the person who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God.”  All things in life are meaningless when pursued without first discovering fulfillment in Christ.  Wishing to be successful and wanting to be prosperous are in themselves not bad things.  The idea of the “American Dream” on its own is not harmful.  It is when these things dominate life and and diminish God’s sovereignty that they are dangerous.  In John 5:39-40 (MSG) Jesus says: “You have your heads in your Bibles constantly because you think you’ll find eternal life there.  But you miss the forest for the trees.  These Scriptures are all about me!  And here I am, standing right before you, and you aren’t willing to receive from me the life you say you want.”  Sometimes it’s as if the very thing I’m looking for is the thing I believe is obstructing my view.  The life I say I want is right in front of me, in the things I’m trying to push out of the way to make room for my own plans.  I need to learn to remind myself daily that what I do, where I am, and what I have is not as important as who I am.  My pursuit of happiness, adventure, and fulfillment will never be successful unless it is rooted in the life God has destined for me.