If you're a fan of music that speaks to the deeper aspects in life you might like to head over to my brother-in-law's blog, Songs for the Journey.
Nick hasn't been blogging for a while, but the arrival of Bob Dylan's new record seems to have brought about the inspiration needed to get writing again.
For me, Songs for the Journey would go well with a nice flat white - good quality with no froth.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
The Bald Barista
I've gone past it so many times. Sometimes in a car. Sometimes on a bike. Occasionally on a bus. Always in a bit of a hurry to get somewhere else. So last week I was determined to pay a visit to the Bald Barista - but it was closed. They, along with too many other cafes in Dublin, close at 8:00pm, so I opted for The Joy of Coffee instead as I hadn't been there in a while.
But this week I got the kids out of the bath a little earlier than they would have liked in order to get them in bed and get out! (I didn't leave them alone of course. My wife was home.) I headed on my bike for the couple of miles down to Aungier Street just in time to get in before they closed.
At the counter a sign proudly recognizes the cafe as serving 'Dublin's best espresso' as voted for by The Irish Times in 2008. Clearly this was where I should start. The barista, who wasn't bald, but for all I know could have been the man himself in disguise, pulled a nice looking shot of espresso and told me I couldn't have it until I named the band that was currently playing on the CD. I couldn't, and would never have guessed The Doors at all. Fortunately he was gracious enough to give me my little cup anyway, although this may have been because I had already paid for it - which at €1.50 for either a single OR double shot is certainly the best value espresso in Dublin!
I was just saying to my wife this afternoon that I'd like to attend some sort of coffee appreciation class, so I thought I'd have a preliminary go at picking out flavours in the cup. I stood at the counter and had a couple of slurps before chancing my arm and saying, 'There's quite a floral taste there, I think.' To which I fully expected the barista to say something like, 'No, you idiot. There's a caramel and honey base with a hint of cherry and some chocolaty notes with grapefruit riding through.' But he didn't. He just looked at me for a moment and asked, 'Is this your first time here?', then followed that up with a couple of extra stamps on my new loyalty card. The Gracious Barista.
As I watched (with interest and envy) as he poured me a great rossetta on my latte I quipped that it was a shame they closed at 8:00pm, but he didn't think so. I guess he was tired. Fair enough. Fortunately the cafe is located in Avalon House - a backpackers hostel. So even though the espresso stopped flowing I could sit in the cafe for another hour reading my book.
I'll definitely be back. Not just for the espresso, but because the international flavour of people watching is fun too.
But this week I got the kids out of the bath a little earlier than they would have liked in order to get them in bed and get out! (I didn't leave them alone of course. My wife was home.) I headed on my bike for the couple of miles down to Aungier Street just in time to get in before they closed.
At the counter a sign proudly recognizes the cafe as serving 'Dublin's best espresso' as voted for by The Irish Times in 2008. Clearly this was where I should start. The barista, who wasn't bald, but for all I know could have been the man himself in disguise, pulled a nice looking shot of espresso and told me I couldn't have it until I named the band that was currently playing on the CD. I couldn't, and would never have guessed The Doors at all. Fortunately he was gracious enough to give me my little cup anyway, although this may have been because I had already paid for it - which at €1.50 for either a single OR double shot is certainly the best value espresso in Dublin!
I was just saying to my wife this afternoon that I'd like to attend some sort of coffee appreciation class, so I thought I'd have a preliminary go at picking out flavours in the cup. I stood at the counter and had a couple of slurps before chancing my arm and saying, 'There's quite a floral taste there, I think.' To which I fully expected the barista to say something like, 'No, you idiot. There's a caramel and honey base with a hint of cherry and some chocolaty notes with grapefruit riding through.' But he didn't. He just looked at me for a moment and asked, 'Is this your first time here?', then followed that up with a couple of extra stamps on my new loyalty card. The Gracious Barista.
As I watched (with interest and envy) as he poured me a great rossetta on my latte I quipped that it was a shame they closed at 8:00pm, but he didn't think so. I guess he was tired. Fair enough. Fortunately the cafe is located in Avalon House - a backpackers hostel. So even though the espresso stopped flowing I could sit in the cafe for another hour reading my book.
I'll definitely be back. Not just for the espresso, but because the international flavour of people watching is fun too.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Someone's painful road to Calvary
Life, as beautiful as it is, causes us to ask many questions. The life of faith, which can be just as beautiful, can also provoke the same reaction. For me, one of the greatest questions centres around the events that are remembered over the Easter weekend. The latter part of the celebrations, the resurrection, I actually have very little trouble with. It seems, in essence, a perfectly reasonable and (super-)natural way to end the story. It is, however, the events surrounding the cross that I find so hard. But I was reminded this week in a daily email subscription that the resurrection follows the crucifixion; it does not erase it.
So once again I am left asking the question, why did Jesus die? What was the meaning of his death? Although this is a topic I have wrestled with for many years it isn't foremost in my mind most of the time. But of course this time of year demands giving it some thought. (I did a little thinking last year too: Part 1 and Part 2).
Tonight I took along a book to my local coffeehouse that presents various views of the atonement (the meaning behind Christ's death) through history. For sometime now I have been wanting to study more about the idea of liberation and victory as a consequence of the cross. So I read a little about Irenaeus and his understanding of the atonement. This is a theory from the very early days of the church which grew in popularity up until medieval times, became almost extinct during the Enlightenment, but started to gain popularity again during the first half of the 20th Century through the work of Gustaf Aulen's book Christus Victor (ie. the victorious Christ). The theory goes something like this:
Whether through voluntary action or external coercion, human beings have "fallen" under the control of oppressive and dehumanising powers - typically described as sin, Satan and death. (The Bible presents this through the story of Adam and Eve and their willingness to submit to the seductive ways of the 'serpent'.) Therefore humanity forever struggles with the realisation that they too often do the things they know (somehow) that they shouldn't do, and too often don't do the things that they should.
Since people cannot free themselves from this cycle of being, Jesus Christ appears as the power of God to liberate human beings. God becoming incarnate (meaning 'in the flesh') was able to share in the life of his creation and become subject to those pressures and sufferings that all humans face - the ultimate pressure being death. But by going through death and into life (the resurrection) Christ is shown as victorious over all oppressive powers - even the sting of death.
By his life, death and resurrection, Jesus Christ inaugurates a new age and a new community of freedom, marked by inclusivity and equality. The Church is then meant to be the sign of this new age witnessing to the victory of God over the powers that attempt to pull us down.
I find this theory quite exciting, but very humbling. As the words Tim Rice put in the mouth of Jesus say, 'to conquer death you only have to die'.
I want to explore this area further looking into the theology of liberation, but as I was reading and thinking about these things this evening it struck me that theology is all well and good, but is of little use if it can't be rooted in real life:
For the last few weeks now I have noticed a small group of people enter the coffeehouse at the same time each Thursday. Not always the same people, but certainly a core group of them that I have come to recognise. I had wondered why they always seemed to show up with such regularity, thinking that they must meet there first before heading out to a pub or club somewhere. This evening I figured out the opposite was true. It became apparent that they had all just come from a local AA meeting. One young man in particular seemed to be receiving some extra support as the others offered him various prayer cards, mini rosaries and good luck trinkets to help him in his sobriety.
What, I thought to myself, does Christ the Liberator say to that man? It seems a little too easy to say (and perhaps a little trite) that claiming the all sufficient power of God can free you from your addiction. While I believe that liberation is possible the process has to start somewhere. I soon contemplated that for that man, and for myself, it starts with a deep surrender of ourselves and the painful road to a cross where I may need to die to myself in order for a liberated life to arise.
So once again I am left asking the question, why did Jesus die? What was the meaning of his death? Although this is a topic I have wrestled with for many years it isn't foremost in my mind most of the time. But of course this time of year demands giving it some thought. (I did a little thinking last year too: Part 1 and Part 2).
Tonight I took along a book to my local coffeehouse that presents various views of the atonement (the meaning behind Christ's death) through history. For sometime now I have been wanting to study more about the idea of liberation and victory as a consequence of the cross. So I read a little about Irenaeus and his understanding of the atonement. This is a theory from the very early days of the church which grew in popularity up until medieval times, became almost extinct during the Enlightenment, but started to gain popularity again during the first half of the 20th Century through the work of Gustaf Aulen's book Christus Victor (ie. the victorious Christ). The theory goes something like this:
Whether through voluntary action or external coercion, human beings have "fallen" under the control of oppressive and dehumanising powers - typically described as sin, Satan and death. (The Bible presents this through the story of Adam and Eve and their willingness to submit to the seductive ways of the 'serpent'.) Therefore humanity forever struggles with the realisation that they too often do the things they know (somehow) that they shouldn't do, and too often don't do the things that they should.
Since people cannot free themselves from this cycle of being, Jesus Christ appears as the power of God to liberate human beings. God becoming incarnate (meaning 'in the flesh') was able to share in the life of his creation and become subject to those pressures and sufferings that all humans face - the ultimate pressure being death. But by going through death and into life (the resurrection) Christ is shown as victorious over all oppressive powers - even the sting of death.
By his life, death and resurrection, Jesus Christ inaugurates a new age and a new community of freedom, marked by inclusivity and equality. The Church is then meant to be the sign of this new age witnessing to the victory of God over the powers that attempt to pull us down.
I find this theory quite exciting, but very humbling. As the words Tim Rice put in the mouth of Jesus say, 'to conquer death you only have to die'.
I want to explore this area further looking into the theology of liberation, but as I was reading and thinking about these things this evening it struck me that theology is all well and good, but is of little use if it can't be rooted in real life:
For the last few weeks now I have noticed a small group of people enter the coffeehouse at the same time each Thursday. Not always the same people, but certainly a core group of them that I have come to recognise. I had wondered why they always seemed to show up with such regularity, thinking that they must meet there first before heading out to a pub or club somewhere. This evening I figured out the opposite was true. It became apparent that they had all just come from a local AA meeting. One young man in particular seemed to be receiving some extra support as the others offered him various prayer cards, mini rosaries and good luck trinkets to help him in his sobriety.
What, I thought to myself, does Christ the Liberator say to that man? It seems a little too easy to say (and perhaps a little trite) that claiming the all sufficient power of God can free you from your addiction. While I believe that liberation is possible the process has to start somewhere. I soon contemplated that for that man, and for myself, it starts with a deep surrender of ourselves and the painful road to a cross where I may need to die to myself in order for a liberated life to arise.
Thursday, 2 April 2009
Shortest of stories
One of the community projects that we run as part of our ministry is a toddler group called Paintbox. As part of the morning I do some storytelling, usually along with whatever the theme was for the day. So, to help me prepare for telling the fable of the Wind and the Sun I took along a copy of Aesops Complete Fables to the coffehouse to read some of the other 357 fables.
They are quite nice to read because they are so short, but leave you with something to think about at the end. So here's a few for you:
The Traveller and Chance
A man was worn out after a long journey, so he threw himself down beside a well and went to sleep. He would have certainly fallen in, but Chance [Tyche] appeared and woke him up, saying:
'Hey friend! If you had fallen down the well you wouldn't have blamed your own foolishness - you would have blamed me.'
Thus, plenty of people who meet with misfortune through their own fault blame it on the gods.
The Flies
Some flies had found some spilled honey in a cellar and started to eat it. It was such a sweet feast that they couldn't stop. But their feet became stuck to the spot so that they couldn't take flight. And, as they began to suffocate, they said:
'How wretched we are! We are dying for a moments pleasure.'
Gluttony is often the cause of much harm.
The Man Bitten by a Dog
A man who had been bitten by a dog roamed far and wide, looking for someone to heal his wound. Someone told him that all he had to do was wipe the blood from his wound with some bread and throw the bread to the dog which had bitten him. To this the injured man replied:
'But if I did that, every dog in the city would bite me.'
Similarly, if you indulge someone's wickedness, you provoke him to do even more harm.
The Horse and the Groom
A groom used to steal his horse's barley and sell it. To make up for it he spent the whole day grooming and currying the horse, who said to him:
'If you really want to see me look good, don't sell the barley that is intended to feed me.'
Thus, greedy people trick poor people with their seductive talk and with flattery, while depriving them of their bare necessities.
They are quite nice to read because they are so short, but leave you with something to think about at the end. So here's a few for you:
The Traveller and Chance
A man was worn out after a long journey, so he threw himself down beside a well and went to sleep. He would have certainly fallen in, but Chance [Tyche] appeared and woke him up, saying:
'Hey friend! If you had fallen down the well you wouldn't have blamed your own foolishness - you would have blamed me.'
Thus, plenty of people who meet with misfortune through their own fault blame it on the gods.
The Flies
Some flies had found some spilled honey in a cellar and started to eat it. It was such a sweet feast that they couldn't stop. But their feet became stuck to the spot so that they couldn't take flight. And, as they began to suffocate, they said:
'How wretched we are! We are dying for a moments pleasure.'
Gluttony is often the cause of much harm.
The Man Bitten by a Dog
A man who had been bitten by a dog roamed far and wide, looking for someone to heal his wound. Someone told him that all he had to do was wipe the blood from his wound with some bread and throw the bread to the dog which had bitten him. To this the injured man replied:
'But if I did that, every dog in the city would bite me.'
Similarly, if you indulge someone's wickedness, you provoke him to do even more harm.
The Horse and the Groom
A groom used to steal his horse's barley and sell it. To make up for it he spent the whole day grooming and currying the horse, who said to him:
'If you really want to see me look good, don't sell the barley that is intended to feed me.'
Thus, greedy people trick poor people with their seductive talk and with flattery, while depriving them of their bare necessities.
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