We Be Big, by Rick Burgess and Bill "Bubba" Bussey

We Be Big is the autobiography of a radio show. The "Rick and Bubba show" is a talk radio show out of Alabama hosted by two fun loving, regular but gifted, funny, food devouring, proud-to-be-fat guys who talk about  (in contrast to Seinfeld: a show about nothing) everything under the son.

Before coming across this book, I confess, I had never heard of The Rick and Bubba Show, and I have yet to actually hear the show. But now I am familiar with its origins. The book is about each host's upbringing and how they found their way into radio and became a duo, why their unorthodox and un-radio-like radio show became so popular, and the struggles they've had along the way.

The book was co-authored by Don Keith, an actual author by trade. The writing is fine. Meaning, it's readable, but has a bland quality to it, there's nothing special about it. So, there's no particular praise I might give the writing, but at the same time, no criticism either. It does its job, it tells the story.

At first, having no real idea of what this book was about, except that it had been publicized as comedic and hilarious, it took me a while to get into it. I didn't identify or bond with either of the characters or their story until late in the book. I must also say that, sadly, it wasn't very funny. Yes, there were a few jokes here in there in each chapter (mostly about being fat and loving food), but only one time did I actually laugh. And its advertisement as a "funny" book is why I chose it. So, in this manner, it was disappointing.

Had I been familiar with the radio show prior to reading the book, I would've been far more interested earlier on, and perhaps more entertained by the jokes. However, I committed to finishing it, and by the end I got into the story and wanted to know how it ended. Mostly, the content is happy-go-lucky. They chronicle their slow rise to fame, some difficult job stresses and station changes. But at the end they tell a very sad and touching story of when one of the hosts lost his youngest son who drowned in their family pool. A freak accident, it would bring tears to most peoples' eyes (unless they're a chaplain, then it takes more to make us cry, though my heart still goes out). They talked about their faith in God, a theme throughout the book, and what they learned from this tragic loss.

In the end, I found myself rooting for Rick and Bubba. I still don't know if I'll ever tune into their show, but if I do, I imagine I'll know who it is before they ever say who they are.

I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review from BookSneeze.com, an entity of Thomas Nelson Publishers. 

Blessing

Before I begin my weekly night shift, the chaplains there in the evening come together and update me on any need-to-know cases. "There's a trauma in the ER but family hasn't arrived yet. The patient in room 100 would like a prayer this evening if you have time. There's a man in surgery now whose wife is an RN here, she's very upset, please check in with her." Things like this and so many other situations get passed along usually giving me a check list to go through before settling in for the night.

Recently, at nightly report, I was told this, "You will probably be called to the Mother-Baby unit tonight. There's a pregnant mom who came in yesterday for her first ultra sound, and everything was fine. This morning she started bleeding, came to the ER, and found out that her baby has died en-utero. She's been induced for labor and says she wants her baby blessed after delivery."

I have to be honest, this is not the kind of referral I look forward to. Baby deaths in the past have been difficult for me. (Read one account here, and how I coped with it here.) However, I have grown as a professional chaplain and matured as a person to the point where, pregnant women and acute compounded grief over loss of a child don't scare me. I am now able to enter their space, sense their pain, and minister within it.

Sure enough, later that night the pager erupted. The baby blessing was requested. This is not my first blessing of an infant, alive or dead, and I haven't done many. But, I must say, as sad as they can be, I really love doing them. In preparation, I grabbed a small plastic heart shaped container that has a little lid (about the size of a 3-liter bottle cap), put in it a cotton ball and poured some anointing oil over it. I took with me a certificate of blessing and one of those crempy sealer things like notaries use to make the certificate feel official.

Entering the room I saw mom, holding her darling deceased baby that weighted about a pound. She was staring at his beautiful tiny wrinkled face as if she was looking into her entire universe. Her dad, grandpa, was quietly sitting nearby. We talked for a few moments but mostly gazed at the little guy who never had a fair shot at life. Mom had already cried so much she was temporarily out of tears and in a sacred and serene place of wonder as she imagined what might have been but now never will be.

She told me his name and why she chose it. Naming helps the grieving process for parents so much as a way to connect with and honor the life that was lost. She had taken pictures of him and dressed him, things parents do, and she would do it for her son, even if only once.

I brought with me a short "service" of blessing for a baby. We prayed together, I read a few words about how God loves this child who is a member of the family, and we heard a short passage from Matthew about Jesus and children. Making the sign of the cross on the little tyc's forehead with oil on my finger was so special. It was heartbreaking and endearing. It makes me sad to have to do one of these blessings, but I so enjoy being able to walk with parents through this process of caring for their deceased child and honoring his life with ritual.

The room that night was a sacred space. Her love for her son is what sanctified that sterile hospital room making it a sanctuary for God's love, expressed by a broken mother with dreams shattered who saw nothing but beauty in the tiny motionless eyes and translucent fingers of her son. I pray that in time her heart will mend.

Jesus said, "Leave the children alone, and don't try to keep them from coming to me, because the Kingdom of heaven is made up of people like this." After he put his hands on them, he went on from there. Matthew 19:45-15

Dog Theology, part 10: Temptation

Here's how the scene goes down. I walk by the bathroom door and stop cold. Anger wells up in my chest as I look upon the various bits of toilet paper, Q-tips, clumps of hair and whatever else was strewn about from the bathroom trash can by my dog, Dakota. And who knows how much she's eaten? It's hard to remember to close the door everytime and all the time. But when we (mostly I) don't close it, this happens. The result, I know I'm not going to have a good night sleep.

Why?, you might ask.

Dogs vomit. And when Dakota vomits, it is almost always at 5am in the morning. Sound asleep, in the quiet of the early morning, when the birds are considering beginning their chirping, the air is chilled and crisp and all is calm in the Highlands Apartments where we live, when we hear....that noise. That deep gutteral, back-of-the-throat, short-of-breath, K9, heaving. I immediately leap out of bed, like a fire cracker went off under my butt, and zoom toward Dakota (in the dark, with no glasses on) trying to find her and rushingly drag her to the linolium floor where vomit is far easier to clean.

Do I make it? Sometimes. Her favorite place to throw up is in the corner behind the door. So, even if I get to her, then I have to open the door and get her out of the corner and around the door before we can actually go anywhere. This is very frustrating. And, this dance happens all because Dakota cannot withstand the temptation of the trash.

Two weeks ago we started the season of Lent with Ash Wednesday. Traditionally, one of the themes of Lent is a focus on our fleshy-ness, our humanness. And the lectionary (prescribed order of worship) starts off Lent with passages on temptation. Focusing on temptation reminds us of those things that make us human, that we are frail, that "we are dust and to dust we will return." Temptation is one of the chief marks of being human.

People often give up something during Lent as a way of engaging their humanness and recognizing the power of temptation. I typically do not participate in this Lenten fast of sorts, but perhaps you are somebody who does.

Whether or not you choose to give up something until Easter, may you use this season to look inward at yourself. Reflect on what makes you human, what makes you tick. Can you pinpoint your deepest motivations, and can you stare into the face of that part of yourself of which you may be ashamed and still say to yourself, "I love you." I pray that you can. I will do my best to do this during the remaining Lent season, and while I do so, I sure wish Dakota will also engage her spirituality during Lenten and give up eating trash so I can get some sleep.

Putting Away Childish Things, by Marcus J. Borg

I finished this book about a week ago and am only now getting around to reviewing it. Putting Away Childish Things: A Tale of Modern Faith, is Marcus Borg's first attempt at fiction. And I'd say, for a professor of religion and long-time nonfiction author, this was a good book.

It is a story of two women facing very different decisions and delimmas. Kate, a professor of New Testament at Wells college and one year away from earning tenure, is offered a one year visiting professorship at a nearby seminary. Kate is now stuck between her strong desire to teach seminarians in an environment where faith actually matters and her comfortable position as a well-liked professor tangibly close to tenure and thus a life time of job and financial security.

Erin, one of Kate's undergraduate students and a member of a two different Christian organizations on campus, is beginning to have a lot of questions about her understanding of Christian faith. One Christian group, The Way, is more conservative and has trouble hearing or honoring Erin's ernest questions, while she wonders if the othe group values the act of faith at all.

Borg uses the scenes in Kate's classes and a few other venues through other characters to insert a fair but not overwhelming amount of didactic material. Through these classes the reader is urged along with Erin to consider what kind of faith is going to be worth while. With an impressive amount of literary finess, Borg is able to inject a number of pertinent theological and social justice issues into the narrative as readers follow the story wondering what each character will do with their difficult decisions. The fact is you can't read Borg without learning something, period.

As always, Borg is a smooth writer with powers of description that made me want to eat the food he likes to describe. It's an easy and quick read. At about 250 pages I didn't even realize when I'd reached the end, and I was a little sad for the story and learning to be over.

If you're just looking for a good story, with intricate plot turns and charcter development, Putting Away Childish Things is probably not for you. However, if reading nonfictional theology causes you to vomit in your mouth a little, but you have an interest in growing and stretching your faith, this would be a good place to start.

I'd say Borg is far gentler in his critique of modern American Christianity than in his nonfiction works, making this book more accessible to most. For those who are practically struggling with theology and not simply struggling comprehensively or cerebrally, this will be among the fist books I recommend.

I Asked God...

Here's a poem I came across just the other day, which I enjoyed. It contains a lot of life's practical wisdom. I'm a little weary of some of the theology from which it stems, but I very much like the point. I hope you enjoy it too.

I asked God to take away my habit.
God said, No.
It is not for me to take away,
but for you to give it up.    

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, No.
His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.  

I asked God to grant me patience.  
God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations;
it isn't granted, it is learned.

I asked God  to give me happiness.
God said, No.
I give you blessings;
Happiness is up to you.

I  asked God to spare me pain.
God  said, No.
Suffering draws you apart from
worldly cares
and brings you closer to me.  

I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, No.  
You must grow on your own,
but I will prune you to make you fruitful.

I asked God for all things  
that I might enjoy life.
God said, No.
I will give you life,
so that you may enjoy all things.

I asked God to help me  LOVE others, as much as He loves me.
God  said... Ahhhh,
finally you have the idea.  

Messin' with Scripture

A favorite comedian of mine, Jim Gaffigan, has a great stand-up skit about bacon, "the most beautiful food on earth." You can watch it here.

During my first year of residency, two of the four residents were vegetarians. And all year long I evangelized them, trying to convert them to my carnivore ways with a relentless onslaught of bacon jokes. Because, let's be honest, if any meat is going to convert a vegetarian, it's bacon.

A friend and I were reflecting the other day that bacon is so great that you can simply equate bacon with love. Bacon is love. So, we started choosing a few passages of the Bible and replacing the word love with the word bacon. Here's what we came up with.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not bacon, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal...Bacon is patient, bacon is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast it is not proud. Bacon is not rude or self-seeking, bacon is not easily angered and keeps no record or wrongs. Bacon does not delight in evil but delights in breakfast truth....Bacon never fails. (1 Baconthians 13:1, 4-7 sort of).

I know bacon doesn't mix in with the Bible all that well, because of all the kosher Jewish dietary restrictions. But I wouldn't be surprised if Jesus ate bacon. He was always breaking the nonsense rules anyway: working on the sabbath, healing on the sabbath, why not enjoy God's gift to the food community. I think when Jesus told his disciples to love one another just as he as loved them, he was really telling them to give bacon to one another just as he had given them bacon. Because, let's be honest, love is bacon!

_____________________________

Another little moment of fiddling with the Bible that I came across was while reading a book recently. There's this group of verses in John 14 that many Christians too often abuse and turn into a weapon. This is regrettable. Here is the actual passage:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  You know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

Below is, I think, how many Christians actually interpret these verses. Brace yourself.

"You should be very troubled, because if you believe in God, but not me, you will be shut out of my Father's house in heaven, where there are a few small rooms for the few who have correct belief...." Then Thomas said to him, "Lord, what about people of other religions or no religion at all? Will they go to heaven after they die?" Jesus said to him, "I am the only way to heaven, and confessing the truth about me is the only truth that will get you to life after death. None will go to haven unless they a) personally understand and believe a clearly defined message about me, b) personally and consciously ask me to come into their heart, c) disavow any other religious affiliation, and d) affiliate with the new religion I'm starting and naming after myself. None can get come to God unless they get by me first." (not John 14: 1-6)  -Brian McLaren, A New Kind of Christianity

I must admit, I chuckled when I first read this...rendition(?) And, I think this is a beautiful passage (the original one), but it simply is not saying what most people think. Jesus did not speak this verse while having an existential or doctrinal discussion with the disciples about himself as the door keeper to heaven. If that's how you've always heard this verse, sorry to burst your bubble, but it needed to be popped. It is part of a much longer discussion which begins in the previous chapter. Jesus had just lambasted Peter for stepping out of place and the disciples were feeling a bit low. They were troubled, because he had spoken about leaving them. This verse falls in string of verse of Jesus comforting and consoling his closest friends.

That's how I've been messin' with the Bible. How have you been playing with scripture lately? How has scripture been toying with you?

Y2 EPIC

Remember back in 1999 as New Years approached, the start of a new year and millennium? I sure do. Remember the huge Y2K scare? People were stocking up on canned goods, water, survival equipment, guns, MREs, gasoline and all manner of other items which seemed so vitally precious to a comfortable life. Convinced the entire global computer network would crash as soon as the date changed over from 1999 to 2000, people were frantic. Anticipation was high, along with anxieties, and some were predicting the beginning of a third World War while others predicted God would dramatically and finally enter history in some climactic apocalyptic event.

But then, after the midnight bell tolled, after the ball in Time Square filled with thousands of lights dropped, after toasts were made and champagne bottles uncorked, after all the whoopla, storage shelter building and fear mongering...life went on as normal.

At Providence Hospital in Anchorage, we have recently been undergoing a huge change as the computer system has been switched from McKesson to a newer and supposedly better system known as EPIC. This is a process that has been in the works for at least 18 months. Millions of dollars and countless extra work hours have been committed to this change so that a new computer charting program can be introduced. The idea is that EPIC will consolidate the three separate programs the hospital previously used, and it will ensure better more efficient patient care.

I started at Providence about one month before the "EPIC go live" date, which was last Saturday, Feb. 26th. And I noticed that during the weeks and days approaching the go live date, the atmosphere around the hospital was so very much like 1999's Y2K scare. Tensions were high, anxieties through the roof, and some people were predicting the whole system would crash, paralyzing the hospital's ability to function while others threatened just to leave and get a job somewhere else rather than suffer such a change.

To make this transition happen, EPIC and Dell have flown in hundreds of tech support people to rove the floors offering aid for charting. A command center full of phones computers and experts was set up in the large conference room next to the cafeteria.

But when the bell tolled at midnight Feb. 26th and the new computer system became self-aware (wait, this isn't Skynet from Terminator!), active, nothing blew up or crashed. Life went on.

Now, that's not to say that there haven't been some problems, because there sure has. A colleague of mine tried to print a patient census list and the printer began spitting out hundreds of papers with gibberish on them. She claimed she's made the printer speak in tongues like some of the people in the book of Acts. Later, the printer wouldn't print anything, and I joked that it had been struck with silence, like another character in Acts.

Many of the RNs and MDs and other have been quite stressed out during this computer system overhaul, and I don't want to down play that. However, I have this feeling that in a few more weeks we will be acclimated, and just like 11 years ago New Years Eve...life will go on as normal.

Jack and Jill went up a hill

During the day, the chaplains take shifts holding the on-call pager for about 2 hours usually. It was exactly 5 minutes until I was to hand off the pager to the next person for his turn. It had been silent for me during my hours with that evil beeper on my belt. Until, my streak of silence was broken. A phone number came through. I called and spoke with the RN on the line.

"One of the surgeons wants you to come to room 948 with him." "Okay," I said, "can you tell me more about it?" "Sure," she said, "his patient expired during surgery, and he's heading up to inform the family." I knew that the work I had planned to get done that evening was now not going to happen.

The way hospitals work, it is very rare for someone to actually die during surgery. If someone is too ill, doctors will simply refuse to perform the surgery saying it's too risky (which, of course, it is), or if a patient begins to go down hill during a surgery he/she is stitched back up and sent to the ICU.

Arriving a few minutes before the surgeon, I found the RN and learned that the husband (we'll call this couple Jack and Jill) was in the room expecting his wife to be through with her procedure about now. Jack and Jill were in their mid-30s and had to young children, 3 and 4 years old. That changes things.

An entourage of about 5 people wearing light blue scrubs, hair nets and shoe coverings came onto the nursing unit. The OR staff was here. The RN and I followed them in as we crowded the room in which only Jack was present. He immediately knew something was wrong.

The doctor broke the news quickly like a machine reading a script, ending with the formal line, "...and despite our best efforts, we were unable to save her. I'm sorry for your loss." Shock. Denial. Anger. All three struck Jack at once. Then tears. Pain and numbness seemed to mix together to form an emotional concoction of surreal-ness. There's no right or easy way to do this.

Finding the breath that had been taken from him by the news, Jack asked, "What happened?" And then, I think the doctor realized that it was not only Jack's loss. The surgeon suddenly stopped being a doctor. Something changed in his voice. He told Jack they were trying to intubate her but couldn't get the tube past the mass in here trachea. They brought in experts at intubation. "I tried. He tried. We all tried, but we just couldn't..." His voiced choked up, and tears filled the eyes behind the doc's glasses. The anesthesiologist, a younger looking doctor, spoke up sharing that the medicine was right, but Jill wasn't getting enough air. They tried for 30 minutes to save her, to bring her back. But the couldn't. His face was beat red trying to suppress his emotion.

I looked at Jack. He was broken. I looked at the medical staff in the room. They were hurting. I passed out tissues to everyone there. Heads were hanging, bodies were slumped, and I realized that though these people were only recent acquaintances, they were all hurting over Jill's death. My heart broke for all of them.

Jack called his family. These phone calls are always the hardest to make. The grand parents arrived with Jack and Jill's two darling children, an angelic 4-year old girl wearing pink sweats clomping around in little black shin high snow boots, and a 3 year old boy with a toy airplane and head he was almost grown into. The boy was a little too young, but the girl knew something wasn't right. When she entered the hospital room she asked where her mommy was. And like swords plunged by an expert musketeer, those words pierced at the hearts of daddy and grandparents. And as with Jack, there is no right or easy way to do this.

They talked to her about grandpa's old dog that got old and then went to be with God. Just like uncle Joe got sick and went to be with God. "Mommy also got very sick and had to go be with God." She didn't completely understand, but she knew things weren't right. She knew she couldn't see her mommy. Two of the OR staff had remained, one was the doctor. They stood back and cried silently with other family members as this little sweet girl's big brown eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. These children's lives had just changed forever.

I spent over two hours with the family and staff. I offered tissues, hugs, consoling hands on shoulders and backs, I contacted Child Life Development to get some resources to the family, I stood outside with Jack as he smoked a much needed Swisher Sweet cigar, I held elevator doors, trash cans and offered water to Jack after he vomited in the toilet. I've come to a point where I do not need to cry during tragedies like this, but my heart breaks no less. I am grateful to have witnessed and acknowledged their pain and to have journeyed with them for a brief time. My prayers and sympathies go out to the newly single parent Jack and his two beautiful children, daily reminders of his precious Jill.

Skin Hunger

I don't know if this story is true or not. I could not find it during a 5-minute google search. However, it was told to me by a person I deem credible, and that says something. But here it is.

One of the ancient Roman Emperors (I can't remember which one, Mabye Marcus Aurelius?) had an interest in science and early human development theory. He conducted a rather inhumane experiment by today's ethical standards, but it is telling.

He took a group of new born babies from their mothers/families and placed them into the care of his own nurse maids. One half of the babies were to be cared for like any other baby, fed, changed, cleaned, held, spoken to and loved. For the other half the babies, only their basic physical needs were to be met. Nurses could feed, clothe, change and clean them, but as for the holding, talking, touching and loving, none was to be done. They were to be left in isolation.

As I said, it was an horribly inhumane experiment with (brace yourselves) an unhappy ending. The first half developed normally as you would expect. The second half, neglected of intimacy, despite having all of their physical needs met, died.

I'm sorry if this story makes you angry. It breaks my heart as well. But I'm writing this post to reflect on the importance, indeed, the power of touch.

________________________     

In the NICU they practice something called Kangaroo Care. This is time holding your baby (mom or dad) with as much skin touching as possible. Moms lay their tiny premis on their chests to share warmth between them and practice for breast feeding later. Dads open their shirts and hold the dear ones on their (sometimes hairy) bellies so babies can learn their skin texture and smell. Since the mid 1980s Kangaroo Care has been emphasized more and more as vital to a baby's development and ability to thrive.

During Kangaroo Care, or put another way 'skin time,' a life-long attachment between parents and child is formed. It's during this time that children learn a sense of safety outside the womb and first learn of love for another.

________________________

In the ER, when a critical patient comes in needing CPR for a long time they sometimes wrap this machine around the patient which preforms the chest compressions automatedly. It's basically a piston that straps over the chest and repeatedly compresses the sternum to pump the heart. One of the advantages to "thumper," as it is dis-affectionately referred, is precision. Unlike human compressions which vary, thumper compresses evenly each time. It's actually very disturbing to see it for the first time. But I suppose from a medical point of view it's worth something.

I've never been the biggest fan of ol' "thumper," and recently one of the ER nurses articulated for me why. To one of the other resident chaplains in our group this nurse said something like this, "Part of the effectiveness of CPR is the love that translates through the hands of the one doing compressions."

________________________

One of yet another of our resident chaplains recently told me about some new and interesting observations on something called Skin Hunger. The basic idea pertains most often to senior citizens and/or people in assissted living or nursing homes who are alone and don't receive much physical contact. Sometimes these people develop Skin Hunder where they need, more than anything medical, human contact. Simply holding someone's hand can be life giving or sometimes, when suicidal thoughts enter the picture, life saving.

________________________

For some time now I have made it a point to try my best to physically touch each patient I visit. Part of this is to provide a physical means of connection along with the emotional connection that often develops with patients. Also, I hope to express my theology through my body language, position and phsycial distance or lack thereof. My theology envisions a God who moves close to the suffering, is on their level, and touches our lives in one way or another. So, it is with theolgical intentionality that I give good eye contact with, move toward, get on an even level with, face my shoulders toward and reach out to every patient or family that I encounter. At least this my goal.

Little old ladies just love the shoulder pat, the tight hand grasp or the arm rub. Some folks, once you surrender you hand to them, seem as if they're never going to give it back. At times it is not possible or realistic to touch each patient, but I try as circumstances allow.

I think most of us know that human contact is important, but things like these help me to remember how important and vital to life a simple touch can be.

Who have you touched today?

Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time

This is the second book by Marcus J. Borg, and I was pleasantly surprised, or rather I had my high expectations (set by the first book) met, by Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The historical Jesus and the heart of conetmporary faith. 

Published in 1994, this book is still relevant and probably ought to be more widespread than it is. One of the back cover praises for the book  from Walter Wink, of Auburn Theological Seminary, says this, "In every generation there is a handful of writers of whom it can be said, 'Read everything they write.' Marcus Borg is one of those today." I agree. This is evidenced by the fact that I'm currently reading his latest work and first novel.

However, I must offer a humble warning of sorts. Borg, is not for the theologically faint of heart. Be ready to have some of your preconcieved theological notions challenged if not reoriented. If you're looking to defend your own beliefs by citing Bible verses and examples from history, I'm afraid you'll find you've brought a knife to a gun fight. It's likely that most Christians will disagree or find tension with something Borg writes at some point; however, if one reads his works looking for weaknesses, faults lines and ways to disprove or debate hit theses, one will greatly miss the greater points Borg makes.

I don't want to put words into his mouth, but I believe that if you ask Dr. Borg directly, you would find that he does not believe in certain things which many Christians find foundational to Christian belief such as: the virgin birth, Jesus' divinity as being the same substance/essence of God, literal birth narratives, or a literal second coming of Jesus among some of the other more miraculous parts of the New Testament. However, I've found that by getting past differences in belief, it opens up a whole new world, so to speak, of learning. And Marcus Borg has much to teach.

In Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time readers are offered a fresh look at the man Jesus as an historical figure, religious teacher, movement starter and as the subversive wisdom of God. Borg puts you back into the pre-medeival mindset allowing you to see Jesus in ways that his original audience may have seen him. Borg writes, "The most crucial fact about Jesus was that he was a 'spirit person,' a 'mediator of the sacred,' one of those persons in human history to whom the Spirit was an experiential reality."

One of the overarching messages in this book is a reorientation of our view of the Christian life from one that necessitates belief as the primary goal to one of relationship; for example, "The image of Jesus as a spirit person has implications for how we think of the Christian life. It shifts the focus of the Christian life from believing in Jesus or believing in God to being in relationship to that same Spirit that Jesus knew."

Borg offers fact after historical fact about the world of antiquity helping us gain an understanding of the first century Jewish mindset. He repeatededly discusses the myriad of ways in which Jesus and his message were subverting the dominant culture of religious requirements and subverting the system of conventional (cultural) wisdom with the power of the wisdom of compassion. "For Jesus, compassion was the central quality of God and the central moral quality of a life centered in God." Agreed.

Borg teaches on the didactical (teaching) sayings and the parables of Jesus in ways which make too much sense to ignore. He offers a need-to-be-heard image as Jesus as the wisdom of God, and he presents alternative ways in seeing the Christian story, which do not suplant the dominant image as Jesus as sacrifice for our sins but rather images that add to it.

Borg needs to be read by more mainstream Christians than are currently reading his works. Note: he will offend many, but the issues he discusses need more dicussion from our pulpits. He's a good non-fiction writer, and one can easily detect his professor side when reading his words. He's clear and concise, leaving little or no question of meaning in the minds of this reader. I give Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time a solid Nathan-two-thumbs-up.

Check back for a review of him as a fictional author. Adios.