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This gaseous vapor takes the shape of the spheres:
Between heaven and earth a new day appears.
From the electric belly
Of Babylon
I am spewed.
The cold, crisp air
Greets my face
And with every stair
Fog-filtered sunlight
Embraces my body.
Chicano beats
Reverberate off murals
That weave
All our stories
Into One.
Inhale the scent
Of sweat and fruit
Of piss and concrete
Of carne asada
And hair gel,
Breathe out and take
Two more steps –
This is street-level
Spiritual Awakening.
From the electric belly
Of Babylon
I am reborn.
Haunted
By the place
Where earth and sky collide
With the salt water tears
An ocean to fill
The pain and regret
Of love lost,
Drugs sought,
Chords struck,
Life caught.
These are all the fish
That got away
Runaways breakdancing
On rancid city streets
Empty souls searching
For something to eat
Not the bitter pill that
Brought them to the place
Where the world ends -
This is where the bus stops
And life begins.
[This poem was brought on by a term I heard Earl Creps use in describing the challenge of church-starting in Berkeley.]
Berkeley!
Friend of the afflicted,
You pre-paradigmatic primordial soup
Strutting your stuff
Before princes and paupers,
In front of the soiled old man
Pushing his world in a shopping cart
And that clean-cut freshmen
Carting her dreams in a backpack.
You’re creating the world
With neo-synaptic connections
Firing over valleys of indifference
And setting the fires of innovation and conscience
That can’t be extinguished
By cash, oil or holy water.
You are a city set on a hill,
Misguided and delusional as you may be,
Because Jesus is the patron Savior of
The kinds of people good religious folk
Hang out to dry.
Look to the mountains!
Your next great idea won’t come from there
Or from the valley or the sea
But from the sapling that breaks through
The hard concrete of duplicitous idealism
To reveal a revolutionary love
That knows no bounds
And names tolerance
As the clanging cymbal that it is
Yes,
Tolerance is weak street smack
Compared to the love that’s
Flooding your streets
O Dr. Yasdi
You are my son’s dentist.
With stand-up comedy
You sit in your swivel chair,
Armed with a shiny dental scraper
Disarming the manchild,
He falls into your lap
Like a cloud or a pillow.
He lets you floss his teeth,
This amazes me.
He gets a shiny coin
To play in the arcade,
He chooses
The super bouncy ball -
I want to be a child
So you can be my dentist.
I’m intrigued to hear that widespread response to this speech was varied. It should come as no surprise to anybody who knows me that I was impressed with what he had to say; but it’s not just because I already like the candidate. I deeply appreciate Obama’s willingness, even at potential risk, to embrace the complexities of an issue as divisive and painful as race in America. His speech did not offer polarizing rhetoric or paint any demographic as victims to be avenged; he recognized the grievances and the common hopes and dreams of Americans. The fact that Obama continues to honor and respect his pastor and church, even while chastising the Rev. Wright, is a picture of what America can become: united, not in spite of our differences but because we are committed to working through them. The fact that many people cannot understand or appreciate Obama’s commitment to a minister he strongly disagrees with is a sad commentary about the fabric of our faith, that we prioritize conformity over dialog; not to mention a lack of empathy for a man (Wright) who had to endure much racism in his formative years, racism that has shaped his world view.It’s after hearing Obama speak like this, that I wonder if he is a contemporary example of “a new kind of Christian.” He certainly embodies much of what emerging Christians hope for: reconciliation, a lived-out faith, a Christianity that demands responsibility as well as offers hope. Maybe that’s part of why members of the Emergent “intelligentsia“ seem to be supporting him. I can’t say I blame them.
