Eire Calling

I grew up being told I would study abroad in college.  There wasn't any choice in the matter.  It was going to happen.

Somehow, it was the music of Ireland that called me to that country.  I remember watching the VHS tapes of Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance in elementary school.  I chose the Chieftains for my seventh grade music class project.  My aunt kept buying me tin whistles and such for Christmas.

It made sense, then, to study there in the fall of 2009.  After fighting my college for the chance to go (mechanical engineers at Virginia Tech rarely go to Ireland to study), I made it to the National University of Ireland, Galway.

A wonderful four months of learning, friendships, and travel. 

Now I go again, invited by one of those friends I made nearly seven years ago. 

Torc Waterfall, Killarney

The first week will be an adventure as a camp counselor, walking through the Parables of Jesus with a large group of middle school-aged youngins.  Having spent hardly any time with twelve-year-olds in the past decade, this will be a bit of a jump into some sort of deep end.  Bring it.  I'll be with Nathan and Jenna again, as well as a whole mess of people that will be my friends in just a few days time.

After that, a photography tour.  Hire a car, they say.  Find a hostel, find a pub, find the craic, go on lad, get on with it.  Yes, cheers, thanks a million.  The Ring of Kerry beckons and, should some miracle occur, so do the winding steps of Skellig Michael (book your tour three months in advance, not three weeks, because Star Wars).

A retreat as well.  For the busyness here at home can eat up one's soul, even begin to suffocate it without one knowing.  Step away and breathe again.  Listen to the quiet voice in the wind who has much to say to you, dear child, if you would only pause from your striving and worrying and

simply

listen.

Inishmore, September 2009

Pokédemic?

It had been eight days since Patient Zero.

Eight days since Pokémon Go was unleashed upon the world and some sort of social transformation happened nearly overnight....

I find myself on the way to Folky Fridays in Old Ellicott City, looking to relax with some friends and perhaps have a bit of adventure.  Having been released from the somewhat insular world of the Nine-to-Five, I am taken aback by the sudden change in my surroundings.  As I drive up Main Street, I see groups of two or three or six, mostly high school and college age, all glued to their phones.  Some with backpacks wield extra battery packs, wires spewing forth.  Never have I seen the sidewalks as crowded on any other given Friday evening.

Finally caught my Zubat.

I snag a parking space near the central stoplight and start off to Tonge Row.  More people are milling about here, index fingers swiping furiously on touch screens.  I run into Dan, a summer theatre friend.  We chat a while as he captures a Zubat on the thirtieth try.  "I've used all my Pokéballs," he moans.  Middle schoolers ask us which team we are on - I learn that there are three teams and opponents can battle one another at local gyms, which might be a church or some random building.  All around us, on grassy hills and any available seating, are phone-wielding Pokémon trainers.  Two port-a-johns are set up in the parking lot so these crowds might find some relief.

Stephanie arrives, followed shortly by Justin and Nathan.  We move to a nearby table, straddling two distinct worlds of Americana music lovers on one side and pocket monster collectors on the other.  We talk, observing the crowd of nearly forty people staring at their phones.  A group of young men attempt to sell water from their tailgate cooler.  A dating couple sits nearby, independently catching Pokémon together.

We are joined by Rachel, just finishing her shift at work.  She is intrigued by the fact that we are having a real conversation amongst ourselves, phones securely out of sight.  So she joins us and becomes a friend.

Emotions are Running High.

I have my camera out, as does Justin.  Nikki notices and steps away from her cadre of Pokémaniacs and comes to ask us about them before pitching a videographer job at the Otakon Animé convention.  Justin, intrigued, gives her his contact info.  She joins us awhile, and then her posse drifts on to the next Pokéstop.

Nighttime falls.  We are surrounded by the orange glow of street lamps and the blue glow of mobile devices.

It's like Fourth of July Fireworks without the explosions or cheering!

It's time for second dinner at Cacao Lane, so we begin the walk down the hill.  On the sidewalk are messages in chalk:

10% for Pokémon Go players!

Look up! Real Artwork Right Here!

I spy another summer theatre friend, hunched over his phone while seated on a storefront stoop, and call him by name as I pass him by.  He hears nothing.  Our group of five surrounds him.  "Situational Awareness, man!" we say, laughing.  After a brief catch-up, we continue on our way.

Dinner at Cacao Lane is an enjoyable experience, but now it's time to head on home.  We enter again the mysterious world of Pokémon Go.  Larger groups now wander, five or seven clustered together searching for prey.  Two girls wander into the middle of the street, intent on capture, automobiles be scorned.

The Teeming Hordes bring blessings upon local businesses

I remain astounded at this sudden change to the local economy and the average per capita level of exercise our town is now seeing.  A new medium of interaction with our surroundings and with each other.  What shall come of it?

We place bets as to the date of the first #PokémonGoWedding, say our goodbyes, and head home.

#Pokémarriage ?

Reconciliation is a Responsibility

A wound, undealt with, in the proper conditions, will become infected and fester.  If tended to, but not delicately enough, the wound will not heal.  The problem will not be solved.

We see this in our inner lives, do we not?  We gloss over pain we have experienced, ignore the hurt, and move on.  But we do not tend the wound.

And so it festers.

Is it not clear, over the last several years, that the pains and wounds of racism and justice in our American society have not been properly tended to?  The anger and frustration and pain of those in Baltimore after Freddie Gray's death last year was hear around the world.  This horrible event threw a spotlight on deep injustices and decades of pain.

Yet, a significant number of white people I know dismissed these events as none of their concern.

I am not satisfied with that.  And the events of the last few weeks deepen that restlessness within me.  Any argument crying "isolated events" is washed away by the torrent of outcry against so many injustices over so many years.

Americans:  If we consider ourselves citizens of a nation based on the idea that all men are created equal, it is necessary to work at removing the barriers that keep the declared truth from being an active reality for our fellow citizens.

Christians: If we consider ourselves citizens of a Kingdom of a God who demands justice for the oppressed, who loves people of every tribe, tongue, and nation, and calls us to follow His lead, it's time to start removing the barriers that keep our fellow men from receiving that justice and love.

We are responsible.

There is very little I know.  I question if I have any authority at all to speak into this national racial divide as a white suburban male.  So I will do my best to listen, and point to the authority of my earthly citizenship and the higher authority of my eternal citizenship.

It is time to listen to one another.  To lay aside defenses and hear the stories of those who have been victims of structural and individual injustices.  To seek reconciliation.

This world is a mess, and we all have some responsibility to set it to rights.  Whether reaching out to your neighbor, leading a vastly influential non-profit, or something in between: own your part.

You are responsible.  Today, you can begin to end an injustice, in the hope that all injustice will end.

North Baltimore, from above.  February 2014.  A city with much healing still to be done.

Freedom

We celebrate American independence today.  56 men signed their names declaring separation from a King who had used his power for oppression, rather than service, of the people of the American colonies.

Baltimore Star Spangled Banner celebration, September 2014

At the time, it was something of a novel idea.  A social contract, in which a government is set up to protect and defend its people in exchange for reasonable submission to its authority.  Still today, the implementation of such a contract is novel and perhaps somewhat rare, for there are still autocrats and dictators and warlords using their power to ravage their lands and destroy their peoples.

I am grateful to live in a country where we can participate in our governance through civic action, voting, and much more.  I am grateful for the ways this American experiment has brought much good into the world.  I am grateful for this citizenship I have in this nation.

I am a dual citizen, it must be said, with a higher allegiance to a Kingdom of God.  And as we celebrate with fireworks and barbecues, I cannot forget that the work of freedom is not done.  There is yet slavery, there is yet injustice, there is yet suffering.  There is yet freedom to be won for countless millions of souls.  I repent of my tendency to rest in my comfort instead of moving outwards and using what resources I have to seek rescue for others.

I believe in a God who, for freedom, has set us free.  I believe in a God who "binds up the brokenhearted, [proclaims] liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound."  It is an ongoing, messy work that I cannot fully comprehend.  But He is doing this and invites us, complicated mess that we are, to join Him.

Celebrate the light that shines!

Then let it shine all the more in the darkness which so desperately needs it.