TEDx Rehearsal

With only one day remaining until the real event, the speakers for TEDxCCS gathered for a rehearsal. I have been an emotional wreck all day. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that I am great at giving impromptu speeches, but TEDx is totally scripted. When I walked out to the classic red-dot carpet, I thought I was going to die. 

Everyone says I did a great job, but the question is: Can I deliver the same speech tomorrow?  

This photograph is courtesy of Lori Hunt. 

The Rapture

I drove to Wellpinit this afternoon thinking about the rapture.

Of course, news reports have given an extraordinary amount of attention to the preachings of Harold Camping who predicted that rolling earthquakes would spread across the globe on Friday night (tonight), followed by the rapture of true believers at 6:00 pm Saturday night, May 21, 2011. Some people have an enduring fascination with apocalyptic theology, while many others look on with curiosity, if not ridicule.

But why the rapture? Why all the attention? Why all the doomsaying? What is it about the world that makes people long for another place? Yeah, I understand that humans have made a pretty big mess - wars, bloodshed, violence, injustice, ecological destruction - you name it. But if you step outside and see the beauty of the creation, how can one fail to see that the earth is truly a paradise? As I look upon the blue skies, the flowing river, and the green grass, I feel gratitude and love. Why would I want to leave all this behind? Instead of abandoning the world in some kind of cataclysmic end times scenario, why can't we reconcile ourselves instead?

The emphasis on rapture and deliverance seems misplaced. When Jesus taught his followers to pray, he did not tell them to seek some other world, but rather declared, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." When I see the awesome power of nature, I think that kingdom is already here, if only we have eyes to see.

The Spokane River spilled over Nine Mile Dam with impressive force.

A couple of views from the Spokane Reservation.

Earthquake

The earthquake in Sendai, Japan offers a shocking reminder of the awesome and sometimes destructive power of nature. Over the last several days, I have found myself watching amateur videos and news reports of the tsunami that completely devastated many of the coastal areas near the epicenter. The immensity of the destruction and human suffering are utterly unfathomable.

At times like this, I think that my individual concerns are quite insignificant by comparison. I also feel humbled by my own mortality.

*

When I was a child, I lived for about eight years on the south side of Seattle, which has its own history of earthquakes. At least once a year, my grade school practiced earthquake drills. The teacher would stand at the head of the classroom and announce a make-believe tremor, then all the students would scramble under the shelter of tables and desks. We were instructed to crouch low to the ground with our backs to the windows and our hands over our heads. This position was supposed shield our bodies from broken glass and falling debris. From the innocent perspective of a child, these drills seemed like a game. I never imagined that the earth could ever really move beneath my feet, but if it happened, I felt confident and prepared.

In all the years I lived in Seattle, I never felt the earth shake.

*

My first earthquake experience happened during my mission to Guatemala when I had been in country for less than a month.

On September 18, 1991 at 3:48 in the morning, an earthquake measuring about 6.0 on the Richter scale shook the nation of Guatemala, though we later heard varying reports regarding its intensity. The epicenter was probably less than a hundred miles away.

The quake woke me from a deep sleep. The ground jolted in a sharp side to side motion and felt as though a gorilla had grabbed a hold of my bed frame and jerked it violently from one side to the other. The sound was startling. We lived in a one room shack with no insulation and a corrugated tin roof. All the metal rooftops in the neighborhood combined into a deafening roar, like the sound of a passing freight train.

When the shaking stopped, a chorus of howling dogs pierced the air, mingled with the screams of frightened people.

The whole event lasted about ten seconds. In fact, it all happened so quickly that it seemed like a dream. I sat up in bed and struggled to see into the darkness. Finally I called out to my companion, “Compa, what happened?”

He seemed annoyed by my question. “It was an earthquake,” he mumbled, “They happen all the time; now go back to sleep.”

As a child, I prepared for this moment, but when it really happened, I felt utterly powerless. I must have sat awake for more than an hour as the proverbial "Fear of God" became palpable and real. In my youthful arrogance, I sometimes felt immortal, but the earthquake made me think just how insignificant we really are and shattered all my illusions of human dominion over the nature. In that moment, I stared into the face of my own destructibility.

The next day, we heard that nineteen people died in a neighboring town.

I realized that for all our technology and learning, life is still fragile. Throughout the following days, I reflected on my childhood earthquake drills and realized that my preparation did nothing to help. By the time I understood the danger, the earthquake had already passed. We simply had no time to even consider taking shelter. If my house had fallen, I would have died, period. As a young person growing up in the United States, I was conditioned to believe that I control my own destiny, and while I still believe in personal choice, I realized that some things cannot be helped.

*

Now as I watch the horrifying images from the recent earthquake and tsunami in Japan, I find myself stricken with grief. I struggle to understand why some survived and others perished under collapsed buildings or under the black wave of the sea as it extended beyond its normal bounds. Perhaps some things are unknowable. Yes, life is fragile, and ultimately precious. In the end, we cannot control the awesome forces of nature, but we can always choose to act with compassion for our fellow beings.

To help the victims of the Sendai earthquake and tsunami, you can find a listing of various relief organizations working in Japan by clicking HERE.

Photo Credit: Kyodo News/AP

"The O'Bama Irish"

US President Barack Obama and Irish Prime Minister Brian Cowen walk down the steps of the Capitol March 17, 2009 following a Saint Patrick’s Day lunch hosted by House Speaker Nancy Pelosi in Washington DC.

Only rarely do I ever comment on current news items. In my way of thinking, just about everything has already been written about any given topic, either for or against. My two cents would simply add to the overwhelming chatter of the blogosphere, and besides, I never want to make public statements that might alienate my readers. You see, I still hold to the notion that on some level we created the internet to bring unity, not division.

Having said that, a rather curious reference caught my attention from within a larger news article. President Barack Obama met with Irish Primer Minister Brian Cowen on this Saint Patrick's Day, and made a press statement regarding his Irish heritage. I did a double take. After all the public flap about President Obama's ethnicity, I was surprised to see that he added Ireland to a long list of ethnic origins. A quick Google search confirmed that literally thousands of websites referenced Obama's Irish heritage as early as the presidential campaign, including a few that criticized his claim to Ireland as an attempt to create a false sense of connection to "mainstream" Americans. One website even posted a video of a faux Irish drinking song where the chorus line croons over and over again, "There's no one more Irish than Barack O'Bama."

Ethnicity is a tricky concept, much less concrete than people might assume.

I consider myself a prime example of the "O'Bama Irish." My father was a "full-blood" member of the Spokane Tribe, and I have rarely been considered anything but Native American. But like President Obama, my predominant skin color only tells half the story. My mother is American like the prevailing notion of Americans. Her ancestors arrived to these shores from places like England, Scotland, Denmark, Norway, and yes, Ireland. Like millions of Irish who fled the famines of their homeland, my Irish ancestors, the Lynches and the Tobins, settled near Minneapolis, Minnesota and unwittingly created a new concept of ethnic identity. On the day they first planted their feet on American soil, I suppose they never imagined they would one day produce a son born of the indigenous tribes of this continent.

As a man of mixed ethnic origins, I welcome the Obama presidency. Love him or hate him, his presence in the White House invites us to struggle with questions of identity more than ever before, whether we base that question on race, ethnicity, or political ideology.

Pennies

The other day I spent my last pennies to buy gas for my car. I had saved my spare change in a glass jar for over a year. Only occasionally did I ever take a few loose coins for parking meters or other odd expenses. Not bothering to count the money, I spilled the pennies, nickels, and quarters onto the floor for one last sentimental look. How quickly they disappear! From there, I bundled them into a cloth bag and brought them to a machine that counts the money automatically. It felt strange walking into a store with a bagful of coins. I thought they only ever did that it cartoons.

The money clanked into the machine and the tabulations began. Finally the noise stopped and a small receipt emerged. $10.56 was the final total. That would buy me less than 3 gallons of gasoline and would hopefully last until payday. What a sad strange commentary on the state of our economy. The oil companies make record profits, and I pay for gas with my last pennies.