"I do not know who put me in the world, nor what the world is, nor what I am myself. I am in a terrible ignorance about everything. I do not know what my body is, or my senses, or my soul, or even that part of me which thinks what I am saying, which reflects on itself and everything but knows itself no better than anything else. I see the terrifying spaces of the universe enclosing me, and I find myself attached to one corner of this expanse without knowing why I have been placed here rather than there, or why the life allotted me should be assigned to this moment [rather] than to another in all the eternity that preceded and will follow me. I see only infinity on every side, enclosing me like an atom or a shadow that vanishes in an instant."

-Blaise Pascal

&myfirstnewsonginayear
"God Lives Through"

I am of the belief that any profound cinematic experience is a possible window to the soul. In other words, if a particular film or scene hit you in the stomach there is something there to be known that informs who you are, who God is, how you experience beauty, etc. So with said prologue: I headed up north to catsit for the folks and found myself riffling through their VHS collection and to my delight found "Babe." I was weeping for the last 10 minutes, kid you not. The very humble, decent, farmer being mocked and shamed as he and his pig, against all odds and expectations, win the sheep-dog contest in profound fashion. Instead of brutally barking and hissing at the sheep, through kindness and compassion the wee pig navigates the course while his master stands at attention. I am practically choking up just recalling it now. What is it with this story!?!

So did you have such an emotional responses to said film, or perhaps something else has unexpectedly hit you: American Ninja 4 anyone?

A professor at my seminary (quite ironically) proposed the idea that theology is sin; for when we attempt to intellectually or systematically box-up God, we fail to have faith to believe in something mysterious, unconfined, holy. I believe as such and have feverishly tried to undo my fundamentalism with all its mind-shrinking dogma, but as I assess my two years at seminary thus far, I fear I have experienced little joy in this gray end of the spectrum: I am more afraid, I trust less, I believe less, I enjoy less, I want less, I care less.

I hear the percentage of seminarians that make it out in better shape is sadly low. I sure miss fundamentalism.