We've trained Big Tuna to use Photo Booth all by himself.

He's a very tech-savvy kitty, strangely attracted to our MacBook.

(Big Tuna's my vote for a name...Erica's not so sure.)

**I hearby do solemnly swear to not take or post any more photos of this cat or personify him at an excessive rate. You can hold me to it.**

Bullets

• Was your Christmas as good as mine was?

• My Christmas present is providing you with this link to new unreleased top secret Sufjan Christmas jams!

• Speaking of top secret things being released to the world via cyberspace, my dad has made his WWW debut! That makes it sound like he's a wrestler or something, but what I mean is he has two sermons on the worldwide web now. A ministry milestone, for sure.

• My mom thinks I should publish my advent reflections. Trouble is, I told her, most of what I wrote has already been published in this really fancy book. It's called the Bible. But Dan, maybe it'll be a good starting point for me the next time you compile a little something. 1--2--3--4--5--6

• The big Christmas surprise was the kitten I gave to Erica. New addition to the family. He's cute and well-behaved so far. If you have any suggestions for a good name, we could use all the help we could get on helping Erica to pick one.

• This morning was our "last" service at the church I've attended for 22 years (minus the four I was away at school). Next Sunday we'll start attending and helping out at a nearby church plant, attempting to get our feet a bit wet for future church planting ventures. There was a little send-off which got everyone all emotional and stuff. It was good and exciting to see our church sending people. Very good.

• We leave early tomorrow morning for a quick trip to Pittsburgh. Erica's working, I'm tagging along. We plan on visiting the Su family on the way home! Woo!
  

Advent 6: We need.

Maybe the most important part of my advent reflecting is that it focuses on a need.

Immanuel, God with us, is not just a nice thing that makes our quality of life a little more pleasant. It's not optional, it's not bonus, it's not extra. It's not "inspirational" fluff as some Christian bookstores suggest. It's not quaint tradition as my city of Bethlehem might suggest. No, it's a desperate need, without which we are doomed.

Without an arbitrator, we stand fearful and condemned, unable to face the Almighty God.

Without a husband, we are alone and worthless.

Without a ladder, we're stuck here on this mess of an earth, unable to get home.

Without a shepherd, we are harassed and helpless, stupid, wandering, distracted, lost.

So praise God with me for the gift of an arbitrator, husband, ladder, shepherd, and much more.

"Christ meets our need."
Hebrews 7:26

Have a peace-filled Christmas, resting in the sufficiency of Jesus Christ. Merry Christmas from the Shorbs!

Advent 5: We Need a Shepherd!

Isaiah 53:6

We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to his own way.

Ezekiel 34

Woe to the shepherds of Israel who only take care of themselves! Should not shepherds take care of the flock? You eat the curds, clothe yourselves with the wool and slaughter the choice animals, but you do not take care of the flock. You have not strengthened the weak or healed the sick or bound up the injured. You have not brought back the strays or searched for the lost. You have ruled them harshly and brutally. So they were scattered because there was no shepherd, and when they were scattered they became food for all the wild animals. My sheep wandered over all the mountains and on every high hill. They were scattered over the whole earth, and no one searched or looked for them.

As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, because my flock lacks a shepherd and so has been plundered and has become food for all the wild animals, and because my shepherds did not search for my flock but cared for themselves rather than for my flock, therefore, O shepherds, hear the word of the LORD : This is what the Sovereign LORD says: I am against the shepherds and will hold them accountable for my flock. I will remove them from tending the flock so that the shepherds can no longer feed themselves. I will rescue my flock from their mouths, and it will no longer be food for them.

I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness. I will bring them out from the nations and gather them from the countries, and I will bring them into their own land. I will pasture them on the mountains of Israel, in the ravines and in all the settlements in the land. I will tend them in a good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel will be their grazing land. There they will lie down in good grazing land, and there they will feed in a rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down, declares the Sovereign LORD. I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will shepherd the flock with justice.

I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will judge between one sheep and another. I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he will tend them; he will tend them and be their shepherd. I the LORD will be their God, and my servant David will be prince among them. I the LORD have spoken.

Then they will know that I, the LORD their God, am with them and that they, the house of Israel, are my people, declares the Sovereign LORD. You my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are people, and I am your God, declares the Sovereign LORD.

Matthew 9:36

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.

John 10:11

"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."

humbug

This season has been absolutely pathetically full of completely unsuccessful shopping trips. Let the retailers know that the reason I'm not buying isn't because we're in a recession; it's because not one of them is carrying the things I need.

And I'm not asking for things that should be hard to find.

I'll tell you more after Christmas. But seriously. It's absurd.

Advent 4: Immanuel

Immanuel by Joshua Stamper.
Probably a little long and repetitive for most people, but something about it draws me into reflection.

A little more explanation

In case you don't know who I'm talking about with this Bon Iver guy, here's his performance on Letterman a few nights before we saw him:



Thank goodness he was wearing a hat, because without it, he looks a little bit more like this guy:
The guy--named Justin something-or-other, by the way--has had an amazing year. He went from unexpectedly recording an album by himself in a hunting cabin in the backwoods of Wisconsin (this alone has become a myth of sorts adding to his stardom, who knows how much of it is true), to finding some help with his band in a few of his lumberjack buddies, to having a critically acclaimed album on his hands and touring the world incessantly this year. Just a friendly unassuming Wisconsin boy with a dry sense of humor like mine. It's an indie-rock Cinderella story. I'm pretty sure he's the first rock star to come from Wisconsin, actually.

I was much more impressed with his live show than I thought I'd be. It was really good. But I continue to be baffled about what it is that has made him so popular. His songs are incredibly simple and minimalistic, he sings like a girl, and they look like lumberjacks for goodness' sake! Is this really what's cool?

But the four-guys-on-vocals thing sounds sooo good live, as does the three-guys-on-drums thing.

He's definitely doing something right, but I think it's fair to say he had a good bit of luck on his side in 2008 too. Good for him. He seemed genuinely surprised by and appreciative for it on Monday night, recognizing it will never happen again. It's always nice when Cinderalla stories happen to guys like that.

These guys were really good, by the way.

I drove home, wasn't sleepy at all, and woke up alright this morning, wasn't even all that tired today. It was well worth it all the way around.

(pics stolen from Flickr.)

THE DANGERS OF ROMANTIC COMEDIES

"Many held the view if someone is meant to be with you, then they should know what you want without you telling them."

Cold hard evidence to a long-standing theory?

Mr. Shorb in a Tuxedo

My students apparently just now noticed the picture hanging in Mr. Diehl's room of the two of us on my wedding day.

They came back from music excited and all agreed I looked overweight, or at least fatter than I do now. Really?

Erica and I are living young tonight and heading into the city to meet a friend and hear Bon Iver and The Tallest Man on Earth. Should be decent, but we're sure to regret it tomorrow morning. I'm just wondering who's going to be awake to drive home. Me? Doubtful.

Time to head into the kitchen to make dinner before our departure.

Advent 3: We Need a Ladder!

I can't help but think first of the Babel. "Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves..." They wanted to reach the heavens, but not in order to be with God. Attempting to reach heaven on our own strength, regardless of intentions, leads to disastrous consequences.

Jacob was shown access to heaven. The story is familiar, but I can't say I ever grasped the point of it no matter how many times the flannelgraph was shown to me.

Genesis 28--
Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Haran. When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. There above it stood the LORD, and he said: "I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. 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."

When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, "Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it." He was afraid and said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven."

God is intent on coming down to earth. And he does.

John 1--
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

But we still need to get that ladder in order to reach heaven. God provides that too.

John 1--
Jesus said, "You believe because I told you I saw you under the fig tree. You shall see greater things than that." He then added, "I tell you the truth, you shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man."

Jesus Christ is our ladder, our access to heaven, bridging the gap and making a way.

Love of Learning, Dignity of Trying

I've been challenged by my students this year, surprised by the number of groans and whines and shouts/utterances of protest each time I tell them the subject we'll delve into next or to get out such-and-such a notebook. Some might call it laziness or a lack of motivation, some might call it an unhealthy need to be entertained, some might call it a difference in learning style, some might it call it typical. I'm not sure what to call it, yet. Whatever the case, they don't seem too interested in learning all the time.

This prompted a stern talking to yesterday. I was not angry, but I was passionately frustrated, and I think I communicated effectively a fact that has already been talked about through their years here. What do they expect to do at school? If you want to play video games all day, stay at home! We're here to learn. There are people around the world dying for the chance to be educated. Their one greatest desire is the opportunity to learn. I essentially said that if they think learning is such a miserable task, they should go home and tell mom and dad they want to be transferred to a different school so that their desk would be freed up for a person who would appreciate and enjoy the opportunity.

I think I made the point pretty clear. It needed to be said. It was highlighted by our afternoon assembly where a man that lives in Africa showed some pictures and talked about the state of education and the quality of the schools.

Our student handbook says something about the nature of learning, how learning should be inherently fun. If I had it at home I would quote it here. But it says something to the effect of this: if a student isn't enjoying learning, something is wrong with him.

I am so proud to be at a school that believes learning is fun in and of itself, and that if a student isn't having fun, the problem is the student's attitude and not the teacher's practices. I'm not happy about that because it lets me off the hook--it doesn't. But it's a much more balanced approach than anything that is happening in the public schools, and most of all, it's true. It's the teacher's job to provide authentic experiences of learning. If the student doesn't find those learning experiences enjoyable, something's wrong with her. That's a gutsy thing to put in your handbook. (And it's important to note the difference between enjoyable and entertaining. Even I can admit an algebraic equation isn't entertaing for everyone. But when you find the right answer and you understand how it works, it's enjoyable.)

So I started my series of good quotes yesterday, despite many groans and protests, knowing I needed to wait at least this long for it be successful in any capacity. I hung this quote on the wall, and student's copied it into their journals:

"Even a bad shot is dignified when he accepts a duel."
-G.K. Chesteron

We made sure we knew what a duel was, then talked about how a bad shot is the person and not the bullet, and we talked about what it means to be dignified. I told them they needed to think carefully and deeply, focus and concentrate and think, and I had them rephrase it and put it in their own understandable words in their notebooks.

Then I had them write a little bit about what it means and how it applies to them, promising that Mr. Shorb doesn't do things like this because he's wacky or wants to make their lives miserable.

When one boy asked the proverbial question, "How long does it have to be?" I told him I didn't like that question and long enough was long enough. When he was done thinking about the quote he could stop writing.

We discussed it. Light bulbs were going off. Keep trying. Do your best. Courage. Accepting challenges. "Even if you're a total klutz!" one girl added. It was working.

I knew some of them were getting it--not just the Chesterton quote, but the love of learning. They were enjoying careful thought.

I ended by having them put their heads down--no peeking--knowing few of them would admit it in front of their classmates, "Raise your hand if maybe, just a little bit, just ever so slightly, you might have just learned something, maybe." Half the hands. Not bad.

"No peeking, now, and raise your hand if just maybe a tiny tiny bit, just a little, you might have slightly, almost, maybe, enjoyed thinking about Chesterton's quote." Again, a little more than half the hands, with some surprises.

I'll take it. Baby steps.

Walking Home Under the Canopy Glow

I walked home from school today, which isn't anything unusual lately, except that today I forgot to pack my walking shoes, and walking home in flat-footed two-year-old Payless dress shoes just isn't good for one's arches, especially after standing on them most of the day.

To ease the pain, I borrowed one of my classrooms's iPods before leaving (why haven't I thought of this sooner?!?), loaded Anathallo's new album, and began walking. The battery was dead from sitting in a desk drawer since May, and after keeping it plugged in for a while I had just enough charge to make it through the first 7 tracks for the 30 minute walk.

A favorite memory from our summer in France was listening to good music on Metro rides. Erica and I grew in our love for Andrew Bird, me with the left ear bud and her with the right, making do with only the half of the music that was panned our way. Using the right soundtrack truly does transform the way you look at the world. It forces me to set my mind on the unseen, reminding there's much more going on here than whatever's on the surface.

I had an idea for a short (or long) film today when a visitor was telling us about his travels in South Africa. He described to our students the long walk that some children are forced to take to school in that country. I wanted to film a walk to school. Even my own, really. But just the walk. Nothing more. Just the footsteps and the houses and the landscape and the people and the cracks in sidewalks and the cars and birds on wires and whatever else is passed. I realize it's a terrible idea, and everyone would think it's boring. But if I find so much beauty in a walk to school, especially if the right music is put to it, wouldn't (or shouldn't?) someone else?

And so, after very little grabbed me about Anathallo's new album Canopy Glow through my first listen, using it as a soundtrack to a walk home after a long week put it in a new light. And first of all, I learned it's not background music. It's too cerebral, and if you put it on in hopes of partying or having a conversation over it, it'll probably get on your nerves more than anything. It demands attention.

It's perfect walking music, though, because Anathallo's main thrust is that there's something deeper going on in the seemingly ordinary and mundane.

The song called "Cafetorium" caught my attention immediately because our middle school has a space that goes by that title. It's an awful name, but it suits the aesthetics (and obviously, the function) of the room pretty much perfectly. With the lyrics, I can picture the gathering taking place in the drab room, the poor acoustics and lighting, the awkward fellowship, the somewhat odd baptism using water from a cool whip container. Even though I wholeheartedly believe aesthetics matter, Anathallo reminds me there is beauty in the act, in the meaning, in whatever is going on underneath the surface.

I have yet to read all the frenetic lyrics to the song that has quickly become my favorite, but it's something about an astronaut losing his finger in some sort of accident with a grain truck. Even that somehow turns into a beautiful meditation through complex melodies and rhythms.

I walked home instilled with a sense of joy and peace, feeling the light my kids sang about earlier in the day at their annual Christmas concert. But knowing these melodies were being tunneled into my ear canals only, I was overcome with a feeling that the darkened streets and houses were burdened with sorrow, distress, fear, and confusion. They weren't hearing what I was hearing. They didn't know. Eyes are focused on the seen, the here, the now. We need to be pulled out of it all, step back, be reminded.

It takes some skilled and sensitive musicians and artists to help us do exactly that.

www.anathallo.com

Canopy Glow

We listened to Anathallo's newest the other night.

Erica listened to it this morning during her commute. I told her I wanted to know what she thought. She emailed me a rare review right after she arrived at work. I agree with her...at least on first listen. We'll see what further digestion does for the album.

"Beautiful. Harmonious. These are the first thoughts that struck me upon hearing the opening phrases of Anathallo's newest album. As I continued to listen it reminded me of a gourmet sandwich, so many delectable, exciting, even extravagant individual pieces combined for a taste explosion in your mouth. But alas, the explosion fades as you indulge too quickly in the tasty treat. While hints of each flavor waft in and out of consciousness, none prevail and even the overall yummy goodness is lost in the act of eating. When done, there is no physical hunger remaining, but a sense that you need to try that same sandwich again to gain full appreciation.

What happened to the organized shouts and excited clapping? What happened to louds crashing into softs and silence? What happened to the shining personality of each individual musician? This newer, smoother, go-down-easy version of Anathallo is still impressive and definitely more mature, but leaves me wondering if the rawness is what made the listening experience complete for me in the past. The album is fluid in an almost unfortunate way. If you're not listening carefully, you make it to track four without "hearing" 2 and 3. Upon second listen the songs unfold a bit and the layers of the sandwich show their unique individual flavors. Track two alone moves through a series of influences, from Guster's high, sweet harmonies to Andrew Bird's staccatos to Sufjan's melodious strings and soothing singing revealing the true genius of the composers as they combine a myriad of stylistic choices into one track.

To me this album is mind music. It mirrors how I picture my brain functioning. This highly intricate organ that has folds upon folds, each containing information pertinent to the overall function but go unappreciated by the average Joe (or Josette). I feel a bit sad at the complete unity of the group. As I listened my memories of seeing the group perform live, re-feeling the excitement they generate as they make magic before a live audience gave life to the album that wasn't communicated through the music alone. Don't get me wrong - the music is great! But leaves me pondering whether their perfection is an asset or a pitfall."

Advent 2: We need a husband!

Each year I realize the need to make Advent a more intentional time of reflection, if only to avoid a little bit more of the world's pollution. I think I'm slowly getting better at it.

In this second reflection, I'm stealing a post written back in May of this year. Since writing it, I've come to understand more and more just how big of a deal having a husband and children was for a woman during Biblical times. Without them, she was absolutely worthless and hopeless.

So it is with us. On our own, we are worthless and hopeless; lonely, unloved and unloving, barren--incapable of producing, isolated, and poor. We need a husband.

Isaiah 3:24-4:1
Instead of fragrance there will be a stench;
instead of a sash, a rope;
instead of well-dressed hair, baldness;
instead of fine clothing, sackcloth;
instead of beauty, branding.
Your men will fall by the sword,
your warriors in battle.
The gates of Zion will lament and mourn;
destitute, she will sit on the ground.
In that day seven women
will take hold of one man
and say, "We will eat our own food
and provide our own clothes;
only let us be called by your name.
Take away our disgrace!"

Isaiah 54:1,4-5
"Sing, O barren woman,
you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband," says the Lord.
"Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth
and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
For your Maker is your husband--
the Lord Almighty is his name--
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer;
he is called the God of all the earth."

John the Baptist prepared the way for this bridegroom, waiting for him, and recognized with joy when he had arrived:
John 3:29
"The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom's voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete."

I'm not quite sure the specifics of how this metaphor works. The Bridegroom came and was with us, but it seems as though it's a very long engagement, setting the stage for a glorious wedding to come. Yes, something like that. And that's the thing about Advent that uncovers itself to me more and more each year. As we reflect on the first coming of our savior we reflect on the second coming of our savior. We needed the first coming, but still, some things remain incomplete. We're still wrestling with this problem of being human on a fallen earth. We continue to wait expectantly.

Ephesians 5:31-32
"For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." This is a profound mystery--but I am talking about Christ and the church.

Revelation 21:2, 9-11
I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.
One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues came and said to me, "Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb." And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. It shown with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal.

While my feminist friends might not like that God is using the need for a husband as a metaphor of our need for him, hopefully, placing it in its proper context, we can still appreciate its rich meaning.

Admittedly, this is a limited study in a big book that finds ways of continuing metaphors hidden in corners from cover to cover. While I realize most of my readership (assuming [at least a small] one exists) prefers to remain shrouded in mystery (was that an Advent allusion?), if you come across more applicable verses, please feel free to contribute.

Call 'Em Like I See 'Em

This little guy visited us at school today. I met him. In person.
You may have heard of him. His name is Elwood. He's fairly famous; he's even been on CNN.

His fans like to refer to him with euphemisms like "special," "unique," or "different."

But c'mon, folks. There's a reason he won first place in the World's Ugliest Dog contest, and it wasn't because he was special, unique, or different.

It's because he's UGLY. If there was a World's Most Disgusting Dog contest, he'd win that, too.

Needless to say, I was forced to hold my tongue quite a bit this afternoon.

Speaking of tongues...it'd be one thing if his tongue just stayed there like you see in the photo. That's bad enough for sure. But no...it flip flops all around, curling up and down and back and forth like a snake's tongue, never sitting still. Ugh. I could barely stand to watch.

Advent 1: We need an arbitrator.

I'm struck by Job's words. Thousands of years before Christ is born, before all the prophets start talking about a deliverer, Job knew in the midst of his suffering exactly what he needed. He didn't need his kids back, or his sheep or his cattle or his possessions or his comfort. Those things would be nice, of course, but they wouldn't solve the problem. He needed someone to speak to God on his behalf. He pleaded. He waited. He expected.

In Chapter 9:

But how can a mortal be righteous before God?

He is not a man like me that I might answer him,
that we might confront each other in court.

If only there were someone to arbitrate between us,
to lay his hand upon us both,

someone to remove God's rod from me,
so that his terror would frighten me no more.

Then I would speak up without fear of him,
but as it now stands with me, I cannot.

In Chapter 14:

If a man dies, will he live again?
All the days of my hard service
I will wait for my renewal to come.

You will call and I will answer you;
you will long for the creature your hands have made.

Surely then you will count my steps
but not keep track of my sin.

My offenses will be sealed up in a bag;
you will cover over my sin.

In Chapter 16:

Even now my witness is in heaven;
my advocate is on high.

My intercessor is my friend
as my eyes pour out tears to God;

on behalf of a man he pleads with God
as a man pleads for his friend.

Our arbitrator has come. His arbitration on our behalf is the theme of Hebrews:

In Chapter 4:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

And in Chapter 7:

Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them. Such a high priest meets our need—one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens.

Maybe angels aren't your thing...

...How about a butterfly?

Let the Christmas Season Begin

The Christmas trees have been up since mid-October here in the Christmas city (seriously!), but Erica and I are just now getting around to making a few Christmas ornaments. In light of Black Friday, this little angel we made is for sale on the World Wide Web. But if you like her, know that we give friends some serious discounts. You might have to wait until the twenty-fifth, but then she just might be FREE.

On Teaching--And Living--Empathy

The fifth grade was in charge of presenting October's Virtue of the Month: Empathy.

It was a new word for them when we started, but they quickly became experts. It was new for the rest of the elementary school too, but they seemed to learn a thing or two as well after our presentation.

Empathy was defined as "the ability to understand and share the feelings of another." We repeatedly explained it as putting yourself in another person's shoes.

We talked about the amount of imagination this requires. It's often been one argument of mine for the necessity of art -- we need art in order to stimulate our imagination in order to better empathize with others. And that could be one reason why children are often a little better at empathy than adults are: their imaginations are still in tact.

But to truly "share the feelings," to actually feel what they're feeling, this is a level of empathy that is so difficult to actually attain. I've always been challenged by Paul's command to "Mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice." How often do we truly mourn when a friend is mourning? How often do we truly rejoice when a friend is rejoicing? "I'm sorry to hear that" and "That's great news" don't quite cut it. Are you just as sad as they are? Just as happy as they are? Rarely.

We are so incredibly self-focused. To peel just a little bit of that away, to break out of our shell and into the world of others, even just a little bit!, is near impossible, at least for the majority of us.

When we heard Tim Keller preach on Hebrews 13, where it tells us to "Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners," he talked about first century Christians who literally moved into jail to sleep with their imprisoned friends. They showed empathy, but not in a way that was limited to merely "understanding their point of view." They lived it.

After reflecting further on this passage, where Christ is shown as the ultimate example of hospitality, making himself a foreigner, taking himself outside the city limits, so that we could be brought into the city that is to come, I saw the ultimate example of empathy. Christ didn't deal with us by imagining what we were going through; he easily could have being the omniscient god that he is. Instead, he came down and lived with us. He lived with us in this prison of a life, making himself a prisoner, captive in human form.

If we are to be empathetic, then, I wonder how much of it is imagining and understanding and feeling, and how much of it is actually doing. At the very least, because our imaginations are so limited and our self-centeredness runs so deep, we need to act the first time in order to imagine and understand and feel later.

While I'm growing increasingly reluctant to support short-term mission trips--at least the overuse of them--this is one area that gives a good defense. As a middle-class white American, typing on a laptop in a Main Street cafe, I could not imagine the life of a Haitian, living in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. No matter how hard I try, how many books I read or movies I watch, I simply wouldn't understand. But when I went there and lived in the neighborhood for a week without electricity or running water, I began to empathize, if only in the slightest way.

I'm reminded of filmmaker Marc Singer. He didn't set out to make a movie about homeless people living underground in subway tunnels. But he was intrigued by them and decided to live with them for a while. He became homeless in order to see their point of view. It evolved into his first movie--the documentary Dark Days--and it was probably only effective because of the large amount of true empathy that went into the process.

I think, too, of Morgan Spurlock's TV Show 30 Days. While I assume he leans on the pluralistic and ultra-liberal side of things, rarely does he feel the need to make his point clear. Instead, he provides opportunities for someone to experience another way of life completely different from their own for thirty days. Just for the experience. That's all. He believes we'd all get along a bit better--even if we disagree--if we only had the real empathy to understand the people around us. I think he's right.

I've found myself in recent years wanting to become more empathetic. Only recently have I discovered that if we want to grow in empathy, it's not a matter of thinking harder. No, in light of our Example of true empathy, it's a matter of interaction, of sacrifice, of becoming, of being.

Atticus Finch said it well: "If you just learn a single trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view. Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it."

But where he is understood as speaking figuratively, he should be understood literally.

I'm not sure if fifth graders would understand all this or not. I wish these thoughts had come a bit earlier, but I'm thankful for their role in stimulating them. I still have six months or so to try communicating.

Actually, I still feel the same way.

I thought my disdain for and cynicism surrounding the Christian culture--the one mostly found in these things called Christian Bookstores--had died down and mellowed out substantially since leaving college and growing up a bit. That was a good thing, in my mind, particularly because of certain passages of scripture calling us to do things like "bear with one another in love."

So this past Saturday, I for some reason had the urge to visit the Lehigh Valley's large Christian bookstore when we were nearby. I hadn't stepped foot in the place for quite a long time, and something seemed to be calling me back, just to check out what's in, keep tabs on the culture a bit, maybe reminisce about buying DC Talk's Jesus Freak after months of hyped anticipation.

But after Erica and I pulled into the filled parking lot, a different feeling came over me, one of absolute dread wanting me to turn around and go home. I ignored it, and it only took about 30 seconds in the store to decide my cynicism had died down only because I had done an excellent job of avoiding it.

And at a time when I thought some of the bonds of the Christian culture were being loosed, and it looked like we were on the road to improvement, I'm afraid I discovered otherwise in this little field trip. I do think--or hope, at least--that while it's getting worse, its impact is not nearly as widespread as it was 10 or more years ago. Maybe that's wishful thinking, or a reflection of what different circles I've chosen to run in lately.

Mostly, we were just repeatedly faced with the questions, "What is this doing in here?" or "What makes this Christian?" Things like little stuffed puppy dogs, or little fake plastic aquariums, other knick-knacks that could be found in any typical store, obviously placed there just to make a few more extra bucks. What's sad is that inventory like this seems only to encourage people's sense of materialism and consumerism, the acquiring of more needless stuff, rather than encouraging them in spiritual development.

I can't decide which is more concerning, those items, or the items just like them with some sort of spiritual signifier attached, be it a verse or a cross or a fish or a catchy acronym or the like. At least these items have an obvious reason to belong here.

I knew I was asking for trouble when I walked into the room of decorate wall-hangings, where it is quite clear that art isn't worthwhile unless a verse is very clearly displayed in the piece.

And when did the word "inspirational" start meaning the same thing as "Christian?" And how exactly does a rinky-dink table-top fountain inspire you, let alone encourage spiritual formation?

I laughed out loud when a commercial came over the loudspeaker for the Christian version of Guitar Hero. "Play along with your favorite bands!" I know band names in general can get pretty weird, but it seems Christians are usually worse at coming up with good ones. Stellarkart?! Come on!

But perhaps the most disturbing part of the trip was perusing all the different types of Bibles. I'm not a guy that gets upset about all the different translations, and I'm even OK with Eugene Peterson's The Message. Aside from those, the Bible is being completely distorted and abused in all sorts of detrimental ways. One pink Bible for women is entitled, "HUGS." It has to be an acronym--I hope it's not called HUGS for no reason--but I wasn't able to find out what it stood for. The Green Bible is complete as the Green Letter Edition, where any verse mentioning the earth is highlighted in green font. The Revolve Bible for teen girls--sometimes found in magazine form--gives God's holy word right next to dating advice complete with flashy fonts and photos.

I'm all for getting women to find comfort in the Bible, I'm all for caring for the environment, and I'm sure the Bible has plenty to say to girls about their identity in Christ. But when we package the Bible as something self-serving, or focused solely on our pet issue, or as disposable entertainment, the chances of meeting the God of the Bible and understanding this great story of redemption in which we're living are incredibly diminished. And the person who says, "But at least it's getting the Bible in the hands of this person or that person!" is extremely short-sighted and pragmatic, offering an argument that will leave our faith utterly shallow and anemic.

I'm all for a store that is interested in getting appropriate resources into the hands of interested people. But a store like this does little more for the Christian faith than the Toys R Us down the street. One could even argue Toys R Us does more for the faith, because in its neutrality, it does not lead unaware and well-intentioned people in the opposite direction!

Maybe I should keep my mouth shut about things like this, like I thought I was getting better at doing. There are better ways to spend my time than sitting around complaining about other people. On the other hand, issues like this one need to be addressed from time to time, and in my opinion, just as forcefully as Christ addressed the merchants in the temple. I've stayed quiet for long enough, and now that I've gotten this off my chest, I'll probably stay quiet for a little while longer. Thanks for bearing with me in love, as I attempt to do the same.

Know when to hold 'em, Know when to fold 'em

Last year, a dad donated a large sum of money to purchase 10 shares of stock in Apple for our 5th graders to learn a bit about the market.

We caught it at the absolute most perfect time. It shot up 60 dollars a share and we made out with $600 profit, and the dad got his money back in full. Not a bad learning experience.

But, perhaps a bit misleading...

We took our profits and invested again just yesterday. GameStop was getting rave reviews and they were announcing their earnings this morning. We were bracing ourselves for a nice jump in price. We purchased 23 shares at $21.42 each.

Minutes after purchasing we watched the price drop a bit. The kids did the math. We were in the hole $30 already.

Today, instead of the increase everyone was forcasted, it went down even more.

"Well, kids, congratulations! We've lost ourselves more than $100 in one day!"

Morale is low. Not a very exciting way to start, but I suppose it's all part of the experience. And my only comfort is that it's better to start with a drop than end with a drop. We've got 'til May. You'll see us with our fingers crossed.

I Think I Might Be Falling for Fleet Foxes

Fleet Foxes - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

Pros:
A killer resume: Scientific, Seldom, Crystal Skulls, Saxon Shore, and plenty of involvement in plenty of other bands.
Stunning, intricate harmonies, with voices that blend nicely.
Pretty music.

Cons:
The long greasy hair, oddly enough, is getting old in my mind.
The falsetto can make or break you, but it breaks more often than it makes.
Reminds me of My Morning Jacket.
Describe themselves as "baroque harmonic pop jams"??? What's that all about???
One more thing keeping J. Tillman away from Saxon Shore.

But this video? Gorgeous. Fantastic space. And how does Mr. Vincent Moon keep from getting dizzy?

If 5th Graders Picked the President

"What are you looking for in a president?" As written by some fifth grade students in their journals...

"I think that a president should be, very smart, and should know allittle about the war. I think that they should be nice and thoughtful about the poor and needy."

"I would pick a president who would lower taxes, gas prices, and lower the price for all video games."

"I would look for bravery for when the country is in a bad time. I would look for a girl because I think we need a change. I would look for leadership because a president is a leader. I would look for accomplishments because we need someone that is smart. I would look for a good speaker for press conferences. I would look for someone that has experience in politics. I would look for someone that puts the country first. I would look for someone that cares about the people.
If a president has all that, I would have a new favorite president."

"I'm looking for a gamest. Some one who makes games. If we did a lot of computers will have games on them. It would be the Best everybody would ahve a home with a PSP, DS, SP, Gameboy, Gameboy Color, Wii, PS2, PS3, computer, and a TV. Nobody would be homeless. People would have TV glasses you could act like you were home. They would be 30 smart, cool, nice, good, and happy and that's what type of person I would want for president a gamer."

Great! That's just what I'm looking for!

Erica and I have made it nearly 4 months on one car. But now that she's working full time with quite a commute, it's about time I start shopping for my own vehicle again.

So tonight I've been looking on Craigslist. I'm a bit wary when the most an owner can say about his car besides the make and model is:

"Runs and drives."

I would hope so.

Really?

On my walk home from school, I was called a "shriveled up weenie" by some punk kids driving by.

On a different note, an overdue Flickr update, including more Halloween photos and other fall festivities.

UP

Explaining to The Barber

It was a nice day at school today, probably one I'll write about a little later on.

We held a mock election. The 3rd grade electoral votes went to Obama, as did 4th grade's. The 5th grade electoral vote went to McCain, with my class being the only one of the three in favor of Obama (but not because of any political influence from their teacher, I assure you). So, you probably won't hear about it on CNN, and definitely not on FOX News, but the Moravian Academy Lower School has elected Mr. Obama as the next president.

I'll wait for Erica to get home from her new job, then we'll take a stroll over to the polls. This will be my first time voting in person. I'm a little excited, a little nervous, a little proud to be an American.

But the energy of the day really is quite exciting. Four years ago I wrote a blog post that said something like: "Want to solve the problem of voter apathy? Give us someone worth voting for." I think that might be what happened this year, and I'm glad.

But anyway, the other night I was drawn to pull the complete works of Flannery O'Connor off the shelf. At random, I chose to read her story The Barber, mostly because it fell right after The Geranium at the beginning of the book, which I had already read.

It's a story of a well-intentioned liberal-leaning man who is found out by his conservative barber and the others hanging out in the shop. When pressed to explain his vote for the left, he stutters and stammers and can't get any decent or intelligent response out, only getting angry at himself for it. Admittedly, it's difficult, because the barber and his friends are too busy making thick-headed racist remarks to actually stop and have a conversation. The man agrees to come back in a week ready to tell them why he's voting the way he is.

He spends the week writing his best argument, really excited about the opportunity. He practices on his friend, on his wife, constantly rehearsing his ideas.

He returns to the barber, goes through an awkward lull in starting the conversation, finally gets the opportunity to spew his thoughts, and it goes miserably.

The story resonated with me a great deal. Sure, the timing was incredible just days before November 4th. But furthermore, I don't think I have ever identified with a character in a story as much as I did here. His inability to communicate and articulate, the feeling of being completely dumbfounded and speechless in the presence of this sort of company, and the determined and excited process that follows, with underwhelming results--all of that--was just simply all too familiar. You mean it's not just me?

Sometimes O'Connor's stories bug me just a bit, mostly because I don't quite see what she's getting at. But one thing's for sure, her ability to understand her characters is, in my admittedly limited amount of reading, utterly unmatched.

Happy Election Day...

Get out and cast your vote, but here's a reality check for Christian voters, a healthy dose of tension and balance:

But in a longer version of the same interview, Piper includes some interesting perspectives that might not be as easy to agree with.

But compare his thoughts with those of New Testament Baptist Church, found on BBC News' frontpage. Really, guys? Is the future really in our hands? You should know better!

Uncle Sam and Rosie the Riveter

This year's Halloween costumes were probably the most tame in our four year streak, but perhaps the most effective. Thankfully, very little face makeup (compared to green Frankenstein, blue Smurf, and white mime) or hairspray was involved. And unusually patriotic, too, but I suppose that's appropriate given the timing....




My only regret is that we didn't get any photos showing off my too-tight, too-short vintage red and white striped seersucker pants.

The party was interesting to say the least, in that only 13 people showed up. Bad night for a party, I guess. Compared to 30, 40, 50 people in costume other years, it was quite the switch. But we enjoyed the food and games and each others' costumes just as much as in the past.

Later, Wes and John came with Erica and I to Hotel Bethlehem. They were having a costume party, and best costume won a free stay at the Hotel with a free candlelight dinner. Let's just say we definitely had a very good chance at winning that grand prize. But due to the fact we arrived 10 minutes before they announced the winners, we didn't get any recognition. We know to arrive early next year. But we had fun anyway; it's an incredibly interesting experience mingling with complete strangers in costume, especially when they're middle-aged and lonely. I can't even tell you how many times I said, "I WANT YOU!" to complete strangers. In most other situations involving a bar and dancing, that wouldn't go over in quite the same way. And my main move on the dance floor? The repeated finger point with a constant furrowed brow.

Happy Halloween...

Less than two hours before the 4th annual Shorb Family Harvest/Halloween Costume Extravaganza. Are you coming?

Erica has a previously-made commitment leading right up to start time. I've got a lot to organize, cook, and a costume to finish up, all on my own.

I decided to write here instead.

Look for pictures in the coming days.

Champs!

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I always thought it rather odd when sports fans included themselves when talking about their favorite sports teams...but...

WE DID IT!

But let's be honest...I'm just glad I didn't have to stay up til midnight to see it happen.

That sounds nice.

Call it mere rhetoric if you insist, but I think it's completely refreshing to hear a certain presidential candidate say, "I will never be a perfect president."

Those are words of realism, honesty, and humility that my ears have been itching to hear for the past eight years. Being willing and able to utter those words--even if they are just a ploy to get votes--says something.

Now...let's get on with the game!!! C'mon, Phillies! Tonight's the night! It's absolutely freezing over here, but the rain is gone, so let's finish this thing.

Yes!

I'm going to pay for this tomorrow morning...not a great way to start any week...

But it's 11:30 PM...we just went up 10-2...

Go Phils!

Adventures in Strategic Planning

I am in many ways honored to have been asked to participate in creating a Strategic Plan for the school in which I teach. We started the process last spring, surveying parents, faculty, administrators, students, alumni, trustees, and so on for their perceived strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and challenges for the school community. This weekend, several representatives of those groups gathered together to hash things out even further and come up with critical areas on which we should focus for the plan.

I say I am honored because I was the youngest one in the room by at the very least 10 years, with very little experience other than two years at a local public school and one year at this school. I looked around the table to find very many important, successful, experienced people and wondered where in the world I fit in. One, CEO of Crayola. Another, Chair of Rodale, Inc. (the people who published An Inconvient Truth). And many, many others, the least of which have been teaching or directing at the school for 10, 20, 30 years. What was I doing in that room???

Needless to say, so far, it's been an incredibly interesting and profitable experience.

I found it interesting to be reminded that at its start 1742, its humble Christian founders were known for educating Native Americans, African slaves, and women, a radical notion at the time and even today. It made me think, too, of my collegiate Alma Mater founded in 1846, also started by Christians in order to educate women, and went on, too, to educate that famous African prince. What is it about these Christian ideals that stressed the importance of women and "minorities" being educated? And, more importantly, why does it at times seem as though Christians are regressing in these areas and ideas?

As I listened to us rehashing all the strengths of this school, particularly its unique environment and culture of thoughtful respect, I could only attribute it to its Christian foundation. The school was founded on Biblical principles, principles of truth, and they have trickled down and carried on through the years without its constituencies even realizing. When someone describes the school's culture, they often admit they don't know how it has happened or how it continues. I believe there are subconscious ways of running the school and interacting with one another that have gone on for 266 years and ultimately have their origin in Biblical truth. That's why it's the place that it is.

To be honest, I'm scared that because we don't realize it, and because Biblical truth is no longer held in high regard, we'll take ideas and philosophies from all sorts of other places and use them to run our school in this 21st century, and a little bit down the road we'll wonder what has happened to our community.

And whoa. As I'm typing this, it's dawning on me. Maybe this is what I was doing in that room today. Yikes.

Am I supposed to speak up now?

Go Phils...!

To my embarrassment, I can honestly admit I don't know the name of a single player on the Phillies.

But tonight I've positioned the rabbit ears just right (time to get a digital receiver conversion box!!!), it's 8:00, and the World Series is about to begin.

I'll be proud to be a jock for the next several days.

Go Phillies.

Aren't you proud of me, Yoder?

Leaves at Recess

The leaves are falling like snowflakes today, slow and steady with each gust of wind.

The kids are all joining in on a game where they attempt to catch a leaf before it hits the ground. Gives good luck, or something like that.

At one beautiful moment during recess, the wind picked up and I looked to see nearly every child on the playground with their necks bent back, eyes looking upward, mouths agape, smiling and laughing, arms and hands outstretched, carelessly and clumsily running, trying desperately to grab the leaf on which their sights were set without running into the others around them.

It was autumn; it was innocence; it was perfect.

Great Faith in Unexpected Places

As some of you know, I preached my first sermon this past Sunday. If that sounds as weird, bizarre, and uncomfortable for you as it does for me, we can say I spoke at a church on Sunday. There. Better.

I did most of my preparation in Philadelphia, when I wasn't grading papers or watching Phillies games or observing people or researching skyscrapers.

On Friday morning, I stumbled upon Love Park and was immediately enchanted by the huge fountain on such a lovely sunny day. I took a lap around then found an open bench to start some sermon..er..speaking preparations. I opened to Matthew 15 and reread the story of the woman with great faith.

Jesus only commends two people for their great faith, so when it happens, it demands our attention. Interestingly, both people are very unusual suspects. The woman in Matthew 15 is a Gentile--seemingly excluded from the blessings of a covenant relationship with God. Not only that, she was Greek--a culture at odds with the Jews. Even more, she was a Canaanite--a long-time deep-seeded enemy of the Israelites. To top it off, she was a woman confronting a room full of men--and a feisty one at that. And when this unusual candidate for great faith is placed right next to the Pharisees getting reamed out for hypocrisy and the disciples getting scolded for being so dull, you've got an interesting story on many accounts.

As I continued thinking this over, I heard a voice come from the bench to the right of me. I couldn't hear him very well over the noise of the fountain, and I had to ask him to repeat himself twice. On the third time I heard him ask, "Can we fellowship togetha?"

"Sure!" I answered. He got up and moved to the seat right next to me, sharing a bench.

"I was just sittin' here, thankin' my God for this beautiful day, for everything he's given me, for my health, for my life, for everythin' he's done for me, and then I look over and there you are with a Bible! I cannot believe it! Thank you, God! So, may I ask what you're doin? My name's Calvin, by the way. I'm not botherin' you am I?"

Nice to meet you...not at all...I explained, that, oddly enough, I was preparing to speak on Sunday. He was quite surprised and asked what I was going to speak on. I reviewed this odd story in Matthew 15, where this gutsy woman begs Christ to heal her daughter, and he has some very unusual and disconcerting responses before finally praising her for her great faith. Calvin seemed a little confused. It wasn't until later that we came back and cleared it up a little bit.

We made some small talk...family...jobs...life...weather...until he asked, "So you got any favorite scripture?" I have to admit I was a bit dumbfounded by the question. I've never been much of a favorite type of guy...how does one pick? I punted.

"Mine would have to be First Corinthians two nine." When I asked him what it said, he said, "Oh, I'll let you look it up and read fo yoself." I read it out loud. "I love that verse!" he exclaimed, and went on to explain that when we get to heaven, it's gonna be so great, we can't even imagine it, our minds cannot even conceive it.

I told him that Paul was actually quoting Isaiah, which made me think of one of my current favorite verses. I read Isaiah 55:12. He furrowed his brow and I read it one more time, telling him I loved the picture of pure joy, everything rejoicing, everything made right again. "That's a good one," he agreed.

It stopped there for a while and we talked about Kirk Cameron and other things, then he asked about Matthew 15 again. "What made you choose that story?" he asked.

I explained that I liked how unusual it was, and how it forced us to think. I explained what I thought made the woman's faith so great and so unusual, and then mentioned that it also forced us to ask why Christ responded in the way he did. Was he being cruel?

"Maybe he was just testin' her faith," he said. I agreed. And I explained that this experience probably grew her faith, grew her to become more like Jesus, and was also an important example to the disciples around her. We talked about what this means for us in times of suffering and how Christ isn't out to just meet our every need and make sure we're comfortable and happy all the time, but it's more about becoming more like him.

Calvin got excited about this, understanding and adding to the conversation, repeating, "Yeah! That's true! It's not about us! It's about him!" We talked about Romans 8:28-29, reading it out of my small Bible, saying that the "good" God works for isn't our comfort or material blessing, but being "conformed to his likeness."

After another awkward lull, Calvin first discussed Revelation 21 after having me read the whole thing, excited about the passage when everything is over and done and finished, and we'll be with God, and there will be no more sadness or crying or pain or fear. This brought up his next point when he very emphatically and excitedly explained that the God of Moses and Abraham and Isaac and all those guys way back then is the same exact God that we have today. "He is the Beginning and the End, the same yesterday, today and foreva, and his word stands, and it's truth, and it's good, and he's the same, and he's with us," and on and on he went very excitedly. So much in our world changes constantly, we agreed, and God is the only sure foundation. This led us to Hebrews 10, about "holding unswervingly to the hope we profess because he who promised is faithful." Because he's faithful, we should be too.

A little later, after thumbing through some pages, I asked Calvin, "Why did God save you?" He thought for a while and said, "Hmm. OK. I don't know. Tell me." I read Titus 3:3-5. "At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy." We discussed this some more, stressing yet again that it's not about us, it's about him.

He liked this one so much that he got out his notebook and pencil. Then he asked for a review of all the verses we had discussed, writing down each of their references. After around forty minutes together, he got up to leave, and we wished each other a good day and thanked each other for the encouragement.

I was full of joy the rest of the day. Little did I know when he asked if we could fellowship together that it would end up to be true, rich fellowship. It was indeed, and I was thankful.

I thought about Calvin as I pulled together my last minute preparations on Sunday morning. It hit me like a ton of bricks and my eyes got misty with gratitude. I had spent all this time studying an unusual candidate for great faith, and here God was pleased to place one directly in my path. Calvin was an African-American city-dweller, the oldest of the 13 siblings, a recovering alcoholic. We had very little in common. But he had great, vibrant faith and our bond in Jesus Christ was enough to overcome any other possible barriers. Our time together was sweet and much too short.

When in Rome...

I was sitting outside of the brand new Comcast Center--now the tallest building in Pennsylvania--at a nice little cafe table under a few small trees, desperately trying to grade as many papers as possible as quickly as possible.

I looked up and saw lots of people gathering and staring.

After packing up, I walked over to see what was going on.

Inside the lobby, a huge wall magically turns into a state-of-the-art TV screen (which I've just read is 25 feet tall and 83 feet wide). One minute, it looks like a normal wall, the next minute, a huge, crystal-clear image is shown across it. But at this time, they were showing the Phillies game, larger than life.

As you know, I'm not much of a baseball fan, but I was awfully excited to act like one as I watched the top of the 2nd with lots of other Philadelphians pausing as they passed by. There's an excitement in the air down here, and it's contagious.

(And now that I'm back inside waiting for Erica to be done with class, I see I left at just the wrong time...The Phils just scored four runs!)

Seen at Rittenhouse Square

I'm in Philadelphia. I took a walk to Rittenhouse Square and it was absolutely beautiful. Nearly every bench was occupied. There were so many very different people there. I took a mental list of everyone I saw. I wish I could remember a bit better.

An elderly couple in love.
A crossword puzzle player, legs crossed, sunglasses on his head.
A man with his wiry combover blowing the wrong way.
Young guitar player looking forlorn on a blanket by himself.
Two men playing chess.
A painter, working on easel.
Child feeding potato chips to pigeons from stroller.
Young woman walking three identical dogs.
Man with concerned look on his face.
Two men playing latin percussion instruments.
A girl thumbing her newly purchased book.
A hipster reading a thin book next to a frumpy older woman.
Young moms gossiping.
Group of friends laughing in grass.
Old man in fine suit smoking a cigar with friend.
Lots of Phillies fans. Lots.

Andrew Bird

One of the first Take Away Shows I watched was a man unfamiliar to me, Andrew Bird. He had me at his whistle. I'm often praised for my whistling capabilities, but the noises that come through this man's lips will never be matched by mine. I picked up his album soon thereafter.

Well, it just so happened that he showed up in Bethlehem last night. Imagine that: a national act, that I'm interested in, still enjoying popularity, was actually playing right down the street. (Usually it's the top 40 band of yesteryear, the band everyone jokes about now a few years later, take Hootie and the Blowfish or Sugar Ray, for example.) While the price felt a little steep, we went for it.

It was a magical evening, Bird by himself with his violin, glockenspiel, guitar, crazy loop pedals, sock monkey and large phonograph-inspired-flower-sculptures, along with his theatrical mannerisms and neurotic twitches, his smooth voice, and his awe-inspiring-pitch-perfect-spot-on whistle.
If Willy Wonka had pursued a career in music rather than chocolate, it would sound (and look) something like this.

I'm beginning to be underwhelmed by the use of loop pedals, but when Bird comes up with a violin part that quickly and easily becomes 20 unique layers thick, you know you're watching a different caliber of musician, not to mention the fact that his violin skills are top-notch. In other words, he is worthy of the praise he's received over the years; he's not another run-of-the-mill indie-musician pulling out more instruments that he can't actually completely play just for gimmick's sake.

And all of it is so incredibly natural. The creative music that pumps through his veins and oozes out his fingers without a second thought is simply stunning.

So, life has been a bit crazy for us around here lately. School feels more draining than last year, and there are plenty of other things on our plate to attend to, the least of which is the sermon I was just recruited to preach in one week. (Yes. Me. My first sermon. Weird. I know.) But it was a wonderful breath of relaxing fresh air to get into the mind and world of Mr. Andrew Bird last night. I have a feeling he'll be my background music as I'm attending to all my work over the next week.

Here's the video that introduced me to Bird, a song sadly missing from his set last night, and a performance without violin or loop pedals, but just as captivating nonetheless.



And find some free live Andrew Bird songs over here.

Open for business...

Here's the latest crazy endeavor we're undertaking.

Nice tie.

Fifth graders can get a little obsessive with ties.

I wish I could remember exactly how it came out. I was in the middle of a lesson, and I think I must've muttered something about a certain level of inattentiveness. Someone in the front row chimed in, "Mr. Shorb...we can't help it...it's your tie!"

"What?"

"Your tie! It's really nice!"

I was immediately skeptical, perhaps with my default setting still on defensive mode from my first two years of teaching. Had these little rascals been talking bad about my tie behind my back?!

But the nodding heads and sentiments of agreement when this student brought it up made me think otherwise. I reluctantly said, "Wait...raise your hand if you think this is a nice tie."

All eighteen hands immediately shot in the air with wide, excited eyes, big grins, and vigorously nodding heads.

Sure, this felt nice and affirming enough, but the rest of the day they just kept giggling at how wonderful my tie was. I would be teaching and could watch each one of their eyes zoned out, closely following my tie, looking back and forth whenever it swayed.

One girl asked, "How many polka dots does your tie have?"

"I don't know...you haven't counted yet?"

"I'm trying! You're moving too much!"

They even told the music teacher about it.

Seriously, it was bad. I'd be in the middle of talking and I would hear someone next to me, out of nowhere, sheepishly mumble, "Nice tie."

It was completely bizarre. I'm still giggling about it. The tie's a hit.

An announcement

So, I guess I never exactly made it very clear to you, Cyberspace, about the fork in the road Erica and I are taking. I tried to explain once, but didn't like how I went about it, so I deleted it shortly after and never took the time to reattempt.

By now you probably know we went to World Team this past summer so that they could put us through wringer and decide whether or not we could handle cross-cultural ministry in France.

They decided we could and invited us to join.

We've accepted.

And there you have it.

That doesn't mean we'll be leaving for Paris tomorrow, but it does mean we're planning to move there within a couple of years or so.

There's so much that could be said at this point, but I'll leave the majority of it for personal conversation, and the rest that's fit for cyberspace will be posted over at our recently renewed France Blog.

Voila.

Pleasantly Surprising News.

Two of my favorite bands are now labelmates.

Anathallo has joined WHY? on Anticon.

And the new album drops November 20th.

Here is one more reason why this year is going to close out nicely for good music.

School

I haven't said a whole lot about the opening of school, mostly because the only things I have to say probably aren't fit for cyberspace.

But today was probably, for a variety of reasons, one of the longest and busiest days of my teaching career, not necessarily in a bad way, just in a long way.

The kids were a little extra bonkers, and everyone including myself tried blaming it on the full moon. That is usually a true theory, by the way, from over three years of teaching experience, but on the way home I noticed the moon was a bit past that phase. So tomorrow at school I'm going to blame kids' behavior on the waning gibbous and see if anyone knows what I'm talking about.

And I'm going to do a scientific study on the calming affects of Six Parts Seven on 10 year-olds. This is a usually true theory as well, by the way, from over one year of using their music in the classroom. It was definitely the only thing that got the nineteen of us through the last twenty minutes of our day without raised voices, death glares, hallway talks, parent phone calls or nervous breakdowns.

So the goal for the first month of school is to get students to write in complete sentences. So far it's not working so well. For example, in the past two days I've received two cryptic notes in my comment box. Each contained only two words scrawled on their respective torn sheets of scrap paper.

"class pet"

and

"nice tie"

It's okay, because I think I like those notes better as incomplete sentences, as they are admittedly quite endearing, making me like their mischievous authors a bit more than I otherwise have been.

If Mr. Stevens doesn't plan on releasing a new album anytime soon, then this will just have to do...

Eagerly awaiting THIS:


















Then, eagerly awaiting my invitation to join the wagon. We have very similar artistic visions, and I think I'd be a valuable asset.

The Big, Bad World of Art

I'm on an art documentary kick, I suppose. I had been waiting some time to see My Kid Could Paint That and finally saw it last week. Then, I took Neville's advice and watched Who the #$&% is Jackson Pollock? as an appropriate follow-up. I'm so fascinated and excited that I placed the Oscar-winning biopic Pollock as next on my queue, and am looking to see when we can schedule a visit to the MET or Museum of Modern Art in NYC in the near future.

My Kid Could Paint That is the intriguing and mysterious story of a sweet little four-year-old named Marla who is supposedly a prodigy in abstract painting, making hundreds of thousands for her (or her parents?). After an infamous 60-minutes report, though, her "career" takes a turn for the worse. It raises all sorts of really intriguing questions on art, modern art, abstract art, and the art world, not to mention parenting, the power and nature of media, and the human psyche. I found the bonus features just as good as the film itself, with a follow-up documentary capturing reactions and additional commentary, and a really good interview with NY Times art critic Michael Kimmelman. Kimmelman makes excellent points and handles difficult discussions surrounding art very articulately and succinctly. Marla's still making art (or is she?) and selling it. Jeffrey Overstreet weighs in over at Image.

Who the #$&% is Jackson Pollock? is the bizarre mystery of a five dollar painting found at a thrift store by a female truck-driver who didn't know any better. She bought it as a joke for a friend who needed to be cheered up, but when it didn't fit through the friend's door, it found it's way to a garage sale where a local art teacher planted a thought about it being a Pollock. The most amazing juxtaposition of cultures occurs when this feisty trailer-park trucker barges in on the snobbery of the art world, insisting for ten years straight that this painting was indeed a masterpiece worth fifty million dollars. They, of course, wouldn't give her the time of day. Is she chasing after a wild dream that simply isn't true? Do the critics ignore her because of who she is or what the painting is? Is she creating evidence or are they ignoring evidence? It's full of character who are simply too good to be true. It's a wild and fun ride, but sadly, leaves you more cynical towards the art world than anything else.

In the first, Kimmelman reminds us that skill is a lot harder to judge than one might think. A scribble might look simply like a scribble, and thus it's very easy to quite literally say, "My kid could paint that." But, when you or your kid actually gives it a shot, you come to find there's something special about that scribble that makes it pretty much impossible to replicate, thus making it a bit more special than you might have initially thought. (That doesn't necessarily mean the piece of art is worthwhile, nor that you have to like it, but you can't really discredit it on grounds of simplicity.) The same idea is echoed in the second doc, when a painter who has spent time in jail for forgery admits that he could never replicate a Pollock painting. He fools dealers with Picasso's and Monet's and Van Gogh's, but there's something about Pollock's work that is too difficult to achieve.

That idea has hit close to home in recent days, when, as has happened so often in the past, I wish so badly that I could be an artist and make something beautiful, but when I sit down to give the simplest of ideas a try, it fails rather miserably.

Also appreciated were Kimmelman's ideas on the effort needed to sometimes understand a work of art. I feel these are thoughts are so important for our world today, whether you're reading a novel or interpreting the Bible or deciding which candidate to vote for. At the risk of making this post longer than it needs to be, I'll close with his thoughts here...

"I think the beauty of art is that it is in so many ways open-ended. And we should have this in life, that there should be cultural things which allow us to add our own thoughts to them to decide for ourselves whether we like it. But the truth is that a lot of people don't want to have to bear that burden. We want to be told what we are supposed to think. We want to be spoon-fed stuff. And the fact is that most of our culture is about that: making things convenient for us, instantaneously obvious, whether it's fast food or bad television shows or whatever it is, it doesn't really take much effort on our part. So it relieves us of this obligation we actually have as human beings to try to make a little effort sometimes to get something that might be worth it if we put in the effort. But it's funny because we accept it in certain ways but not in others. We accept that you just aren't going to play baseball like Derek Jeter if you just decide to pick up a bat. You have to actually practice a little bit, be in little league, work on skills, and so forth. Effort is required and we admire that effort. It's just that in art the end result isn't as clear to people when they haven't made any effort at all. In other words, when Derek Jeter makes an amazing catch, we think, yeah, that's achievement, we get it. When Jackson Pollock is doing drips, because most people never make any effort to understand why that's an achievement, they just think it's meaningless.

There is a certain point at which it may be obligatory for you to make some effort to try to understand something that doesn't automatically say something. And if that white canvas doesn't automatically speak to you, you may wish to find out what it's doing there as opposed to saying, 'It's just a white canvas what difference does it make?' Or you can choose not to. But like all sorts of achievements in human culture...well, it's true in science, people don't assume that physicists have to make themselves perfectly clear to you otherwise what they're doing is ridiculous. Why should art be that way?"