a tale of two cities

i used to kinda stick up for my hometown. when everyone else in high school was hellbent on getting out as fast as they could, i maturely observed that most places were no better or worse than most other places as people everywhere are pretty much the same. so i stayed and went to college in my hometown. it helped that they threw money at me. by the time i finished college i was very thankful for my education in a specialized degree, but i too was ready to get the hey outta dodge. i felt as though everything around me was getting smaller. the city seemed content to backslide rather than progress. the path of least resistance seemed the programme de jour. now when i return i all but suffocate.

i went to nyc to see my brother over thanksgiving. i expected the pace to be daunting, especially since i was on holiday. instead the rhythm of the city was infectious. i soon realized the tremendous asset great cities possess that my hometown severely lacks: options. i'm not at all talking about a great plethora of chain restaurants from which to choose - my hometown has that in abundance. a place needs options of cultures, of opinions, of beauty to enjoy. i guess you can live anywhere, but i think there are only certain places that live in you. new york is one of those places. i also felt it when i lived in chicago. i wonder if it's possible without a huge city.

the last straw with my hometown came when i was leaving after my thanksgiving visit. i was on my way out of town when i noticed one of the staples of the city (and my childhood) was gone. growing up village inn had been the greatest restaurant. the place was a classic in so many ways. it had bad lighting, but it only made the table candles that much better. the brick walls were home to countless names and memories. when deciding where the family should eat, the mention of village inn always met with total agreement. but a few years ago, things changed. it was remodeled in a way that robbed it of its charm. decent lighting came in, and with it horrific paint over the bricks and dorky logos for the local schools. the sign out front went from being original to being anything but, and slowly but surely, that's what happened to the place - just another option among harmless competitors. the pizza was more or less the same, but the place wasn't. and now, it's totally gone - not torn down, that might be somewhat palatable. but of course my hometown wouldn't do anything so gracious. instead it's been wood paneled and turned into the old hickory steakhouse. just what the city ordered.

thanks Luke

i'm pretty glad the Diatessaron didn't catch on. it was an early attempt to smooth out the differences in the four canonical Gospels into one seamless "super Gospel" (my phrase). as much as not having to address the disagreements between the Gospels (and yes my literalist friends, there are disagreements) might make my job and life easier, i really am thankful we have the four different accounts. it's tough to think about what we would lose - especially based on certain criteria. for instance, if we went with the so-called multiple attestation criteria, those stories that appear most frequently between the four should stay. if we did this, what would the Christmas story look like? it doesn't appear at all in Mark or John, and the version in Matthew is quite brief - sparing the tricky details about why Joseph and Mary were in Bethlehem in the first place. only in Luke's Gospel do we read the details about Mary and Joseph laying the baby Jesus in a food trough "because there was no place for them in the inn." Luke is proclaiming Jesus to be the son of God and the savior of the whole world, so such beginnings would be pretty convenient to leave out - unless Luke was also trying to tell us something else.

i think he was as Luke reiterates throughout his Gospel God's love for the poor, outcast, and abandoned. i think he included these details to show us from beginning to end a world that made no room for the very people who bless us beyond measure. i couldn't help but remember this story the last few days. there's a gentleman who comes regularly to the community soup kitchen. last week, the trailer he was living in was burned down. now he has no place to live. it was only by trying to help him find some temporary housing that i learned my community has no homeless shelter which is inexcusable on so many levels, especially considering the new multi-million dollar addition to the local jail. (i wonder why the jail needs so much space?)

thankfully members in one of my churches agreed to let him stay in our fellowship hall until we can find him permanent housing. i've been asked several times why the larger churches in town don't do such a thing regularly as there is no shelter. officially, i don't know that they don't because i only spoke with three, and i didn't ask if they could put him up in their fellowship halls. but this is something it makes sense for churches to do. this man spent a few nights sleeping under a bridge when almost every church on the street he slept under could have taken him in.

maybe if Luke hadn't included that little phrase about having no room for Mary, Joseph, and Jesus it wouldn't be such a big deal to keep people out of our churches or houses. but i think God had a purpose for the very words Luke used. we can't say we don't know any better. that phrase should remind all who read it not to turn anyone away, because there's no way to know who you're making sleep in a barn or under a bridge. at the very least, it's a child of God. but it could very well be God's only begotten Son.

not hyperbole

wow, i've done a really great job of writing regularly on here. it's encouraging that i post fewer writings each month. so i guess this one will knock out my november quota. but at least i'm coming back strong, because i have a story that may be the most preposterous thing i've ever dealt with.

a few weeks ago i went to get my driver's license transferred from tennessee to alabama. i think i've voiced my disgust for having to do things like this when we supposedly live in a country of "united states." oh was my temper not prepared for what was to follow!

so my number gets called, and thankfully i don't have to retake some test of knowledge i've totally forgotten and never been called upon to use while driving. i just show this nice lady my old license, take a vision test, and start filling out the paperwork for the new one. i have to show her my birth certificate, and that's when she says to me, "so you realize you don't have a middle name." "what?!" she continues, "yeah on your birth certificate, it doesn't have your full middle name, just your middle initial. so in the eyes of the state, your middle name is 'b'." i insist, "but the 'b' stands for my middle name which is brent." she counters, "well we can't put that on anything, and officially that's not your name. now, you can of course get your name legally changed to be 'brent' but for now it isn't." fuming, i respond, "so i would have to get my name changed to be what my name already is?!" "yes."

well i'm pretty much beside myself at this point. what's especially interesting is that my social security card has my full middle name. i wonder where they got it from. so i called my mom to yell at her about giving me a middle letter instead of a name, and she insists that she put my full name on the paperwork. she later found the paperwork, and sure enough, she did her part.

so now the prevailing theory points the blame at a lazy typist somewhere in the tennessee government who couldn't be bothered to type four more letters that would have made all the difference in the world to me. thanks to this person, my new nemesis, my middle name will legally just be "b."