I saw a video a month or so ago showcasing one of my favorite filmmakers, Salomon Ligthelm. In this beautifully-shot short narrative, Salomon talks about his experience as a filmmaker in the secular world, and how the talents he's been given is not for himself, but for others. The point of creating, building, making, is not for the artist, but to serve everyone else. That is something I must continually remember when shooting, editing, directing, etc. Any gifts God has given me is not for myself, but for other people. It is a surrendering of those gifts. Salomon would ask it, "Have you surrendered yourself to the Great Abyss?"
"In the beginning, God created..."
The opening line of that well known and little understood book...drum roll please...the Bible. I think this text often gets lost in the whats and whos and whys and hows, "...the heavens and the earth," or "...Adam and Eve," or "...that gosh darn, pesky apple," etc. and I think we often lose the impact of that first line: In the beginning, God CREATED. The action. God created.
If you've been following the Mozambique Initiative's goings ons in the last month, you've probably heard about this jazz trio that was here visiting all the way from Mozambique, bumping around the state in a church-van-turned-tour-bus. For three weeks my mission was to cart around three amazing musicians and one full-time representative while not losing any of them or accidentally driving off of a cliff. Mission accomplished! My job duties ranged from band manager to bus driver to translator to lead singer depending on the circumstances. Easy, right?
As the hours on the road wore on, we all grew closer to one another and through complicated translations, had discussions of great significance. We talked about all that Missourians do for the people of Mozambique, and the guys were overwhelmed with both the wealth and generosity present here. They were grateful, wide-eyed, and in awe of all of the luxury. They marveled at the material wealth and all of the conveniences that we have here, and they wondered aloud about what a band of musicians could actually do for a people that, from the outside, seem to have everything.
What if we've got this all wrong?
What if it's about becoming small instead of becoming big?
What if we actually need less rather than more?
What if the least is really the greatest?
What if success is measured by stepping down the ladder rather than climbing up it?
What if we became acquainted with the poor rather than with campaigns with pretty pictures of the poor?
What if we spent time with our neighbor rather than theologized about our neighbor?
What if we lived where we could make a difference rather than where we felt the most comfortable?
What if we chose to be participants rather than consumers?
What if the one guy in the front who talks the most really doesn't have the answers?
What if the one talking doesn't have to be a guy at all?
What if the last one was first?
What if we have big questions and live them out loud?
What if we've been lulled to sleep by the drone of mediocrity?
What if we wake up?
What if we wake up?
What if we wake up?
I'm a huge fan of education. Like in a big way. Clearly, I would never have endured the lunacy of getting a doctoral degree if I didn't feel a deep commitment to the educational process for better or worse...and it IS sheer madness to even wade into these dark and dreadful academic waters (anyone who tells you differently is trying to get you to apply to their doctoral program). My love of education is not about the degrees that ensue or the letters I find strung behind my name like some unintelligible caboose at the end of a train.
For me, love of education is about the romancing of ideas. It's about giving luxurious space to birth and nurture thoughts that otherwise would never had made themselves present. It's about finding ideas crammed into pages of books and nestled into conversations with classmates. It's for the experience of knowledge, and not just amassing knowledge, but learning how to use knowledge as the fuel for creativity and world changing.
I posted something snarky on Facebook the other day after receiving this nasty and biting email (names and identifiers have been changed):
Sarah,
How many times does it take to get you to change my e-address from this one to iamajerk@gmail.com???? Maybe "third times a charm."
Curmudgeon
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