Coffee as Sacrament

The particular branch of Christianity with which I am aligned holds a radical stance in its non-observance of Sacraments in worship (Why?) In other words, we do not practice such institutions as water baptism or Eucharist/Communion/Lord's Supper, et al.

So I smiled when I came across one person's view of the sacred nature of drinking coffee:

'Coffee has a long history as spiritual substance. Frederick Wellman, in Coffee: Botany, Cultivation, and Utilization, describes an African blood-brother ceremony in which "blood of the two pledging parties is mixed and put between the twin seeds of a coffee fruit and the whole swallowed."
Coffee in its modern form, as a hot, black beverage, was first used as a medicine, next as an aid to prayer and meditation by Arabian monastics, much as green tea is used by Zen monks in Japan to celebrate and fortify. Pilgrims to Mecca carried coffee all over the Moslem world. It became secularized, but the religious association remained. Some Christians at first were wont to brand coffee as "that blacke bitter invention of Satan," as opposed to good Christian wine, but in the sixteenth century Pope Clement VIII is said to have sampled coffee and given it his official blessing.'

I wonder if people realise what they are taking part in when they stay for the after-service tea/coffee on a Sunday morning?

Songs for the Journey

I just wandered up to my computer with a cup of coffee in my hand to discover an email from my brother-in-law. He has just started blogging. Take a look:

Songs for the Journey

Wild Geese

Tonight over coffee I read Steve Chalke's newest book, Intelligent Church. I only read the first chapter as I was slightly distracted (see below). However, I was struck by a short passage in the book which is a paraphrase of a story of Soren Kierkegaard.

Sorenn Kierkegaard, the famous Danish Christian philosopher, grew up in the countryside surrounded by farms that reared geese (among other animals). Each spring he would watch as a new gaggle of goslings was hatched and began to be fattened for the table. Over the course of their short lives these geese would gorge themselves at constantly refilled troughs of grain until they were so fat they could hardly walk. He imagined that they believed their lives to be perfect, as every need they had was catered in abundance.

When autumn came, the truth became apparent. The wild geese that had spent the warm summer months in Denmark would gather in preparation for their southerly migration. As they assembled to fly south they would circle in the skies above the farms, calling out to any stragglers to join in their flight. At this point the farmed geese would lift their heads from the feeding troughs and look into the skies, heeding the call of their wild cousins. For the first time in their lives they would become animated, running as best they could around their enclosures and attempting to fly. Of course, their gluttonous diet and life of luxury meant that they were far too fat to get airborne - but still they would try. And then, as quickly as the commotion had started, the wild geese would fly off and the fattened farm geese would watch them briefly before returning to their grain to continue eating their way to their deaths.

Kierkegaard's parable poses a powerful challenge to our local churches. Are we farmed geese or wild geese?

Is That Made Up?

I went to Moda tonight - the first time in a couple of months, I think. It's an okay coffeehouse, but I'm too often disappointed by the burnt taste of the latte. There are other coffee shops in the area, but they don't stay open as late as Moda (past midnight).

Anyway, I took a book to read, (see above) but I got a bit distracted by two women talking across from me. I don't usually listen in on conversations, but, and I think you'll agree with me, sometimes you can't help it. For me it was when one of them ordered a creme banana capuchino with soy milk.

Is that a made up drink?

Apparently not as something in a mug arrived a few minutes later.

The two of them talked about college days, shared break-up stories and frustrations of weight control. Then one of them noticed a painting on the wall. It was a golden triangle on a red background. It possibly means something, but I don't know what.

Then the exotic coffee lady got excited and took a photo of the painting because, and I kid you not here, she said that she collects pictures of triangles.

Is that a made up hobby?

Apparently not as she then pointed out that she was wearing a top with a triangle on it.

Later in their conversations I heard a word being used (or at least I think I heard it): "Communiverse".

Is that a made up word?

I'm not sure, but unlike the coffee and painting I like it.

Communiverse. I've not decided what it means yet, but I think it could be profound. Once I'm satisfied with a definition I'll try and use it in conversation some time.

A Regretful Coffee

Quite some time ago I wrote about a lovely couple of hours at The Village Cafe with someone I came to know. I had been meaning to meet again with D. and each time we saw one another we reminded each other that we must get together again.

I got the news yesterday that D., who had been suffering with cancer since before I knew him, had died. Now that opportunity has passed.

This afternoon I attended D.'s funeral. I was pleased that there was a good turn out, but I came away unsatisfied with the experience. While the priest made an effort to include a very brief biographical outline, the speed with which the prayers and readings flew by betrayed the fact that this was a ceremony that had been performed countless times before, and the half-mumbled recitations of the congregation seemed to be spoken out of habit - a good luck charm? I just wish the priest had slowed down to give us time to reflect on the life of D. and the supernatural transition which was being presented in the homily. I would have liked to have heard the beautiful and poignant words of John 14:1-7 read with much more grace and drama - much like D. would have done should he have been reading it for someone else.

So, following the service I went back to The Village Cafe, ordered a coffee and sat, where we had sat previously, taking some time to think about D. and the conversations and encounters that we shared.

My wife asked me if I felt guilty that I never got around to meeting up with D. again. I don't feel guilty, but I do regret it. I mustn't let opportunities and important moments like this pass by me again.


God bless you, D. Grace and Peace to you.

Smell the Coffee

My wife returned from the USA with a packet of one of my favourite coffees - Millstone Hazelnut flavour.

I also picked up a bag of coffee last week from the Farmers Market that is held on Saturdays in Meeting House Square, Temple Bar. It was from a small Irish roasting company called Ariosa. I think this might have been the most expensive bag of coffee I've ever bought (9 euro!), but as it was supporting local business and ethically sourced I didn't mind so much. Plus, it is a delicious blend. I think I'll grind some for church tomorrow.

Anyway, there is quite a collection of coffees in my cupboard at the moment which, combined with a couple of teas, makes for a really, lovely smell when you open the door. Mmmmmm.

Starbucks Closes

I guess someone doesn't like Starbucks and is prepared to do something about it:

Forbidden City Starbucks closes

Living in Tension

I wonder if you, like me, find yourself living in tension of who you are, what you believe and how you put those beliefs into action. I would guess that most of us experience this tension. I'm sure it's part of being human and doesn't just relate to those viewing life through the window of religion and spirituality. In fact, I'm sure there are multiple areas of tension in our lives - issues and standards that pull us one way or the other. Yes, the more I think about it there are definitely multiple areas. I wont list them all, but I will mention one.

If you haven't picked it up by now, let me confess something to you:

I like Starbucks.

For all I want to see justice and fairness in the world and maybe even take small steps away from globalization (certainly consumerism...he says, as he types away on his brand new computer), I do like Starbucks.

Just as an example of my paradoxical ways, yesterday I visited a local church because one of its members lives on our street. As I drove home I noticed a new Starbucks that had opened. I made a point of pulling a U turn (both in reality and symbolically?) and went in for some coffee. The store is located in one of the "more-well-to-do" areas of Dublin on the banks of the Grand Canal and, I have to say, I think I would class this as my favourite Starbucks store in Ireland. (I have a feeling that I'm just about keeping up with the small collection).

It's a good size, the usual comfortable chairs and wasn't too busy. They also have a basement area which would be a great meeting space for a discussion group or the occasional Brunch Church - I must ask my friends about that.

To give Starbucks some credit, they do sell Fairtrade coffee and seem to have some involvement in the local community. I wonder if I used Starbucks for some positive means (aside from personally enjoying coffee) whether that would help to ease the tension?

Black Gold

Yesterday my wife went off to the USA for a holiday with our two small children to visit family. I say 'holiday', but I'm sure the flight with two children under 3 years was anything but a holiday! (God bless you, J. I love you!)

That means that for the next two weeks I get to live the bachelor life again (more or less). The house is already a mess and I've eaten pizza for the last two evenings. I'm planing to watch a whole load of movies too - mostly ones that J. would find REALLY boring. (I have my eye on a Russian black and white classic from the silent era - Battleship Potemkin). So far I've watched four movies. Tonight's one was excellent.

I went to the Irish Film Institute to watch a movie called Black Gold. It's a documentary that highlights the plight of coffee growers in Ethiopia. These people work so hard and get paid an absolute pittance for their labours while we sit back and enjoy the coffee experience in some high market coffee establishment...or even a jar of instant (bleh!) at home. One kilo of coffee beans sells for less that $1, but by the end of the product (ie. that steaming espresso) that same kilo is worth over $100! Unfair trade rules mean the poor get poorer.

The documentary followed one man's struggle to sell the produce of his farmers co-operative in order to get a fair price for the beans. I've been a supporter of Fairtrade for some time now, but this movie made it more real. I'd like to get a copy of the film so if you don't get a chance to see it you'd be welcome to come over to my place, put a pot of coffee on, and watch it with me. It may stir your conscience. It made me cry.


The biggest reason for my wife to travel to America is to see two beautiful boys, A. and B., who have recently been adopted by my sister-in-law and her family. The boys are from Ethiopia which made tonight's film a little more poignant for me.

Sorry, Naomi

A few years ago a Canadian author named Naomi Klein wrote a book called No Logo. I managed to get through most of it.


Basically it is an in depth look at the crazy way that most of the West (and growing beyond) has become obsessed with stuff. Mostly high priced stuff. Mostly high priced stuff with a label on it that is supposed to make you feel good. Klein points out that many of the goods manufactured under a particular logo (not just clothes) are produced under exploitation of the workers. But, for Klein, the exploitation doesn't stop there. It continues on to exploit the consumer of the logo. I would tend to agree with her.

However, this weekend I think I probably put myself in Naomi's bad books.

In order to keep up my visitation of all Starbucks in Ireland - (I'm not sure how long this will last. There's a couple that have opened near me since I last wrote about my project. Starbucks tend to have an aggressive marketing policy that involves opening loads of stores in order to push out local coffee business. I know this because Naomi told me.) - I went into a clothes store in the city centre, BT2, that had a Starbucks upstairs...in its children's department.

Being in this store did start to make me feel uneasy. There were logos everywhere! As I had my 1 year old son with me I had to find a lift to get my coffee. Now, fair play to the staff. They were very helpful in taking me to a lift which involved going back outside and through another door with the use of a security card. Once upstairs I bought my regular latte and had a quick look around the children's clothes. This made me feel even more uneasy. Ralph Lauren, Timberland, DKNY, Burberry, Ted Baker, Bonpoint...for kids!!! One very brief glance through some baby clothes revealed a 75 euro shirt for a six month old. I guess someone is going to buy it.

On the way back down another helpful staff member chatted with me. Ironically, despite there being a Starbucks store 15 feet from where he was standing when I asked for help with the lift, the young sales assistant told me he had never been to Starbucks. We were already at the ground floor before I was able to ask him if this was his ultimate dedication to the No Logo cause.

Not ironically, I didn't buy anything from the clothes store. Partly for the cause. Mostly for the money.