ramblings of a wannabe rockstar

It’s inevitable that after a tragedy such as the tsunamis in the Indian Ocean that someone will ask a question like this one that I saw on one of the discussions I frequent:

Seriously, doesn’t anyone really question how a just and loving God could let something like this happen?

I saw the following quote in response and thought it was appropriate for today.

A synopsis of John Hick’s Soul Making Theodicy.

In creating the world, God did not create a hedonistic paradise but a place to make souls. Rational agents freely choose to develop certain valuable moral traits of character and to know and love God. In order to do this they must be free to make mistakes and consequently to cause evil. This freedom accounts for the moral evil in the world. Moreover, in order to develop moral and spiritual character there must be a struggle and obstacles to surmount. In a world without suffering, natural calamities, disease, and the like, there would be no obstacles and no struggle. Consequently, there would be no soul making. This account, then, also explains natural evil. Since soul making is of unsurpassed value, it outweighs any moral or natural evil that results from or is a necessary means to it.

~~~~~

Psalm 8:3-5

³ When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
⁴ what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?
⁵ You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.

~~~~~

Here it is folks. Ramblings of a wannbe rockstar. I’m glad that you’ve found your way here. I guess I’ll post more on the thinking behind the name at a later time, but for now, I’ve got some other thoughts.

Christmas is in three days. My Christmas “spirit” has been severely lacking this year though. It just doesn’t “feel” like Christmas, you know? I’ve been listening to Christmas music, watching Christmas specials on TV, and even went to an elaborate production at a nearby megachurch. But the “spirit of Christmas” has completely passed me by this year. More than any other year. And it’s got me quite disturbed. I feel like I’m missing out on what the True point is. It’s been a while since I’ve really experienced Him and I’m hoping (read: praying) that within the next couple days, I might, in a small way be able to know the Glory of what Christmas is about.

I read a poem yesterday on Rafe Halstead’s blog that kinda started that into motion for me, and it moved me enough to share it with you. Until next time, may the True Glory, Hope, and Power of what Christmas is really about grace you and yours this season.

Christ Climbed Down
- Laurence Ferlinghetti -

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no rootless Christmas trees
hung with candycanes and breakable stars

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no gilded Christmas trees
and no tinsel Christmas trees
and no tinfoil Christmas trees
and no pink plastic Christmas trees
and no gold Christmas trees
and no black Christmas trees
and no powderblue Christmas trees
hung with electric candles
and encircled by tin electric trains
and clever cornball relatives

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no intrepid Bible salesmen
covered the territory
in two-tone cadilllacs
and where no Sears Roebuck creches
complete with plastic babe in manger
arrived by parcel post
the babe by special delivery
and where no televised Wise Men
praised the Lord Calvert Whiskey

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no fat handshaking stranger
in a red flannel suit
and a fake white beard
went around passing himself off
as some sort of North Pole saint
crossing the desert to Bethlehem
Pennsylvania
in a Volkswagen sled
drawn by Adirondack reindeer
with German names
and bearing sacks of Humble Gifts
from Saks Fifth Avenue
for everybody’s imagined Christ child

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no Bing Crosby carollers
groaned of a tight Christmas
and where no Radio City angels
iceskated wingless
thru a winter wonderland
into a jinglebell heaven
daily at 8:30
with Midnight Mass matinees

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and softly stole away into
some anonymous Mary’s womb again
where in the darkest night
of everybody’s anonymous soul
He waits again
an unimaginable
and impossibly
Immaculate Reconception
the very craziest
of Second Comings