Recommended Reading, Eating, Listening

I realized yesterday that if I always hold myself to writing long critical essays, this blog is never going to work out. So on the lighter note of enjoying life, I thought I'd offer a few recommendations based on what I've been enjoying lately.

Reading:

• The Supper of the Lamb. At the top of my favorites list right now, the theology of cooking sounds like an impossible topic if you haven’t read the book. In fact it’s not only possible, it’s hilariously funny. The author is a priest and a cook who meditates on life, goodness, glory, and thanksgiving while he shares about his kitchen secrets, aesthetic gripes, and culinary inspirations. I wrote a longer review over here if you’re curious.
• Anna Karenina. Tolstoy is a master of the human spirit. I was constantly aware as I read this what a generous mind he must have had, to be able to portray so many different types of people, at their best and worst, sometimes in conflict with each other, always with realism and sympathy. Absolutely amazing.
• For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy. I’ve only read two chapters of this but it’s very good. The second chapter on the liturgy of time, or the Christian year, was especially thought-provoking as I’m beginning to run up against and chafe at the perpetual motion of time and the futility of rest.
• The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night. Classic, poetic, and thoroughly scandalous. I hope people aren’t reading over my shoulder on the subway. But the stories are good, and it’s bonus fun seeing where C. S. Lewis got many of his more exotic ideas in the Chronicles of Narnia.

Listening:

• “Innocent.” In a sector of the music industry propelled by angry women (think “Before He Cheats” or Miranda Lambert), Taylor Swift has written a lovely, vulnerable little song that expresses hope in another person who has failed. Believing in someone else is beautiful, and even more beautiful is the possibility of change. Sometimes I listen to this just to be encouraged that that message is still around.
• Zbigniew Preisner’s “Lacrimosa” from The Tree of Life. One of the most effective film scores I’ve ever seen. I’m linking to a video of the space montage – make sure you watch full screen. This is the centerpiece of the movie, which starts with the death of a son and several quotes from the book of Job that ask God the reason for suffering.
• “Thaxted/O God Beyond All Praising/I Vow to Thee My Country.” The theme from Jupiter in Holst’s Planet Suite, a beautiful Christian hymn, a patriotic UK anthem, and my wedding march. With all that combined significance and the amazing tune, I can’t sing more than four lines in without my voice getting stuck with tears. I made a Pandora station based on this song (with Holst, Grieg, Dvorak, and Saint-Saens as the seeds), and it’s lighting up my life. Enjoy.
• As much as I dislike Union Square (it's where you go to be angry), some of the best musicians hang out in that subway station. A few weeks ago there was an awesome brass band that was practically hopping up and down, they had so much energy. Earlier this spring, about 10:00 at night, I saw a younger guy playing on an electric violin such a tune that all the couples in the station were kissing under its spell. I wish I could remember it. But my favorite is probably the soloist. He's a tall black man who straps a drum around his waist and sings, at the top of his very strong voice, driving tunes by Adele and others. I've rarely seen a musician so completely happy. Sometimes when I have Adele’s music going through my head I hear his voice instead. Keep an eye out and spare him a dollar if you see him.
• Speaking of brass bands, the Canadian Brass’s Flight of the Tuba Bee is a brilliant arrangement, and I just happened to find the funniest video to go with it.

Eating:

All my recent discoveries are in Brooklyn, so if you don’t live here, tough. Make an excuse and come visit.

• The Farm on Adderley (Cortelyou Road) sold Andrew the best burger I have ever tasted. And it didn’t hurt that the colors, the lights, and the people at the bar made me want to compose a painting. I want to go back.
• We love going to the Catskill Bagel Company (Cortelyou Road) on Sunday mornings. Not only can you get coffee and tea, muffins, sandwiches, and salads, but they’ll make you a nice stack of pancakes or French toast for a nice price.
• The Castello Plan is a little wine bar on Cortelyou that sells great wine, nice cheese, specialty ice creams, and a bunch of entrees that we can’t afford. One of the waiters is particularly great, and we always leave happy. When we took friends there for dessert, they were impressed.
• Lest you think I never leave Kensington, we also just found Le Paddock in Windsor Terrace (I know, our adventuresomeness leaves me breathless too). Their brunch menu centers on salad and eggs—yum. Décor-wise, it’s roomy inside and everything is (tastefully!) horse-themed, except for a giant safety pin above one of the windows. We’ll go again.

Happy exploring…and let me know what you think and find.

Almost Moving during Ritual Seasons: Household Reflections on Lent & Easter

Several weeks ago we had a visiting pastor preach because the senior had just moved to a new apartment and the associate was jet-lagged from a service trip to Ethiopia. He preached on Lent, moving, and repentance. He was probably trying to minister to his colleague, whose family had a hard time leaving their longtime home. But he definitely ministered to me.

Andrew and I were also thinking of moving. We love our neighborhood with all its huge old homes and how close it is to the park. We like all the giant pre-war apartment blocks that fill the area—it’s the way to go around here if you don’t want to bite off a mortgage the size of the moon. But we’ve had some struggles with this apartment and were curious about options close by.

The sermon was from Genesis 28, where Jacob, on the run from his brother Esau, falls asleep at Luz and has a vision of angels ascending and descending a ladder between heaven and earth. Then God approaches with a promise to Jacob, and when Jacob wakes up, he names the place the House of God (Bethel).

In this story, Jacob is caught in displacement and failure. He’s running for his life because Esau reacted like a charging rhino when he found out his patriarchal blessing had been stolen. When God finds him, Jacob is asleep somewhere in the wilderness.

Obviously the timing seems untoward. But God has a message for Jacob and for all men. The ladder He’s descending isn’t hemp-bound sticks; it’s a ziggurat, the symbol of Nimrod’s quest for renown. We know how that ended. The workers became confused. Their language was broken and they scattered throughout the earth, leaving the tower-stair unfinished. They called their dream Babel.

Centuries later, God descends a ziggurat on steps oriented toward the earth, heaven with him, to a man sacked out in the wilderness on a stone. He comes in His own time. Babel is long since dispersed; Jacob is irretrievably displaced—both consequences of their refusal to wait for God. We people don’t wait for much. But Jacob, forced to seek his destiny without self-promotion, can finally hear God on His terms. And His terms are amazing.

“I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

The promise is a homeland and a scattering of peoples, but this scattering is a blessing, not a curse. It brings hope and heals confusion. As with Jacob, so with Lent: God promises redemption. It’s a shame when you move to a new house but drag all your burdens with you. So Lent is a shame if you give things up without making room for God.

Lent is like moving: no fun. Household inventories yield up junk, and spiritual inventories yield up failure. But God comes through with a promise of overwhelming hope.

When I heard this sermon I was bracing myself for upheaval. That week we started looking at apartments. This one had amazing management but no elevator; that one was closer to the city but small; at another I was stood up by a shifty agent. The fourth was close by and absolutely breathtaking. I was inspired by its details and lots of space, willing to shut my eyes to the dark courtyard view. Andrew balked at the baseboard gaps, the F train, and the broker’s fee.

I finally realized a more beautiful place wasn’t going to make me happier. Andrew realized he’d be happy wherever we lived and left the decision to me. None of our pros and cons were tipping the scale, but I had moved twice between college and marriage just to get here—not counting two more upsets for bedbug exterminations. This would be the biggest, meanest move yet, and we decided to renew our lease.

I had never observed Lent before and didn’t know how to “get much out of it,” as the saying goes. But we had to take a hard look at what we love and value, and decide to be content with such things as we have. It was so helpful to have this couched in the context of Lent.

Of course then we felt like celebrating: our first major marital decision was a success. We plan to enjoy decorating slowly over the next year—which put me in another state of anxious indecision last week. But we went away for Easter to spend the weekend with my dad’s side of my family in Virginia, reminding me again that there are greater joys than beauty at home. The joy of feasting, love, and devotion puts in place all the fusses I can have over home. In the end, He is risen.