Jonathon's Christmas Lights 2009 - Carol of the Bells from Jonathon Reinhart on Vimeo.
Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote that "Christ plays in ten thousand places/Lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his/To the father through the features of men's faces." This blog is my record of some of the places I go and people I meet, and a hope that I (and my readers) might see Christ playing somewhere in their midst.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
College student ingenuity
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Function with relative ease
Somehow, they all ended up finding a way to support both the brawl and the party, where the following lyrics were sung to the tune of "Silent Night":
Sensible night, appropriate night,
Snow on ground, left and right.
Round yon purchase of decorative things,
Tolerant re-write of carol to sing,
Function with relative ease,
Function with relative ease.
I think the same observations about predictable offense that I made about the could be repeated about this.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Merry Smorgitysmorg from SNL
Blake Lively starts the host's monologue, mentioned she met the Muppets at the lighting of the tree in Rockefeller Center. Is suddenly interrupted by the Swedish chef--not the muppet, but one of the actors very cleverly costumed to look like the Swedish chef. And, of course, he talked like the Swedish chef. "Smorgaty smorgasborg, etc." Before long, he and Blakely were joined by some of the other actors, costumed as Fozzy Bear, Beaker, Gonzo, and Animal.
They say that they should kick off the holiday season with a holiday song. After some debate on what they can get the rights to, they land on a classic. But note what they do.
Together they all sing: "Hark the herald angels sing..."
Then just Animal: "Aaaaah gah gah gah aah aah yah!"
Then all: "Peace on earth and mercy mild..."
Then Swedish chef: "Smorgady borgy dee borg ee smorg."
Then (and let me admit that this was funny) Beaker starts singing, in a very clear, powerful unBeakerlike (and very female) voice, as the others looked on, rather shocked: "Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies, with angelic hosts proclaim ... beep bee-bee-beep beep bee-bee-beep," going right back into Beaker mode when the line would have been "Christ is born in Bethlehem."
Then, the Swedish chef sings loudly "Smorgady borg..." And then everyone together with him: "smorg smorg smorg borg!"
Actually, you can watch it here:
Now, on the one hand, I find this predictably offensive. I mean, you expect that people will co-opt the peace and mercy and joy of Christmas and leave Christ out of it. It's offensive, but it is predictable. On the other hand, I feel like, if one found this pattern predictably offensive, a skit like this would be a pretty good way to make fun of exactly how predictable this creative selective embrace of Christmas can be. I find myself hoping that someone is that clever, but I'm afraid that's not it.
But it was funny. Brilliant to gather this assortment of semi-verbal muppets to sing a traditional Christmas carol. I wonder how many people realized how carefully their lines were chosen, and what words were missing.
Conquer the world, lose the game
He usually puts a scripture verse in his eyeblack. Today, it proclaimed John 16:33, and I went ahead and looked it up. I found: "I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world."
Now, I'm all about Jesus having conquered the world. But, is it just me, or does this sound like a guy who is at peace with the fact that he's about to have some serious trouble in the big game?
Of course, at least he has his priorities straight. What would it profit a man to win the game and lose his soul? But still.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Global Warming?
It was sunny. It was downright warm. As I exited my office, I ran into one of my freshman and a couple of his buddies on their way to toss a football around. I passed numerous joggers and dogwalkers. There was some sort of game going on in the softball field. There were a couple of guys skateboarding in front of my house. In December. In New England in December.
I know this is wrong to say on some level, but this Texas girl displaced to the great white north can't resist: if this is global warming, I'm thinking we should keep it up.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
A son of God
In the last year or so, however, he mentioned it persistently enough that I mentioned it to the friars at our parish, and they are ready to create a program that attends to his special needs whenever he is ready.
So this morning at coffee and donuts, Paul and Fr. A and I ended up talking a bit, and the question of Paul's readiness to pursue confirmation came up. Paul said (oddly enough) that he is of two minds on the question, because sometimes he feels like really pursuing his relationship with Jesus and the church is very important. On the other hand, he feels like when he is closest to God, his psychosis is at its worst. And he just isn't sure how he feels about God these days.
I pointed out to him that the sacrament of confirmation is not about Paul's confirming God, but about God's confirming him. He asked, "Confirming me as what?" I gave what is absolutely the theologically right answer: "As a son of God." And Paul said, with just the exquisitely right amount of sarcasm in his voice, "Yeah, that's really going to help my psychosis."
Friday, November 27, 2009
Rudy!
Okay, I admit it. I've seen this movie a thousand times. It was filmed my senior year at Notre Dame, and when it came out the fall following my graduation, it was like coming home again to walk into a theater somewhere in Seattle and watch this. The soundtrack seems so well to capture the movie's spirit of you-can-do-anything-if-you-work-hard-enough-and-believe-in-yourself that it became my near-constant companion in the 6-week desperate dash to finish my dissertation by the deadline.
Tonight, for the first time that I remember since going with friends to see the film in 1993, I watched it with a crowd of people. Sometimes in the right kind of mood, I pop in the DVD. Or sometimes I catch it on cable. But I'm almost always alone when I watch it. Alone with the memories and the sense of what my time at ND means to me, alone with the thrill that haunts me (despite my two advanced degrees) when Fortune says to him that he's getting out of here with a degree that says he doesn't have to prove nothin' to nobody except himself, and the chill that I get every time Dan Devine tells Roland to act like the All-American and the captain that he is and Roland replies, "I believe I am."
It was a little strange, because, although I was watching with friends who know me pretty well (and their children), it is odd to share a movie that is so much a part of you with people who have seen it once, or not at all. And it's so impossible to convey to people who don't understand it that football really is everything at Notre Dame, and still nothing at all. And this movie is about football, and achieving impossible dreams through perseverance, and, yes, it's about Notre Dame. And somehow, those are all rolled together for me. Not inextricably, but still.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Our students' other side

As I was walking back towards my house for lunch after class today, I passed, as I often do, this statue of St. Martin de Porres on campus.
Still quite far away, I noticed a young man sitting on the bench, clearly pretty deep in prayer. As I approached, I watched him as he sat, head bowed and in his hands, and then stood up. He approached the statue and tenderly stroked St. Martin's left foot.
It was such a sweet moment of devotion. It was also so good for my soul to see this moment. So often I find myself in conversations about our students' drinking or their apathy. It was very nice to see something so different. I really do believe that this side is present in so many of our students, but it is hard for them to show it, so we so rarely get to see it.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Glenn Close is my hero
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Boys, pirates, and mint chocolate chip
There is something about these two little boys, the rawness of James' delight next to the the quiet, measured joy of his brother. It really was a wonder to share this with them.
Two favorite moments. First, I asked what their favorite moment of the play was. Ben gets a little evil look in his eye and says (speaking of our friend, who played Long John Silver), "When Joel shot that guy." Second, as I was sending them off to the bathroom to wash the evidence of our ice cream stop from their hands and faces, Ben said, "If we get in trouble for stopping for ice cream, you'll tell them it was James' idea, right?"
James did say that he was hungry, but the ice cream stop was someone else's idea entirely. :)
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Cute theological moment
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Not walking alone
The reality of the thing is that I--like most family members of people with a severe persistent mental illness--often feel very isolated. People sort of share the burden and sort of understand; people try. But it is impossible to convey, even to those who know me well, what it means to remember my brother not simply as this semi-stable though unpredictable and socially awkward man, but also as the sweet baby, slightly devilish boy, troubled teen, and truly psychotic young adult. To carry that whole history with him in a way that no one else does (not even our brothers who mostly haven't seen him in years) is a gift and a burden.
But on Sunday's walk my friends came out, and they came out strong. We had about 35 people out in our purple Paul's Pals shirts. We were the 2nd largest team in number of walkers. The largest team was fielded by PeaceLove Studios. They are a great organization that helps people, including people with mental illness issues, to use art as part of healing and achieving peace of mind. But ... they are an organization. About three or four times during the walk, people asked me "What is this 'Paul's Pals'?" Or, my favorite, "Do you work at Paul's Pals?" I explained that Paul was just my brother and that a bunch of our pals came out to walk with us. People were astounded that such a large team could simply be a group of friends. And I was reminded of what good friends I have and that neither Paul nor I must walk alone.
By the way, this was not simply about the folks who gathered with us in the purple shirts. I was absolutely astounded that about 40 of my friends (and/or their spouses!) donated to NAMI either in my name or Paul's. The two of us raised about $1700 for NAMI, more than half of our team's impressive $3300. (Just $200 short of our goal!) As I look at the list of donors, there are aunts and uncles and brothers, friends from elementary school, junior high, and high school, friends from my parish youth group, from my college days and my M.Div. days at Notre Dame, and a bunch of friends from Duke and from Providence College. I can't resist chronicling the PC departments represented: walkers and donors from theology (of course), philosophy, political science, history, English, education, information technology, and donors from biology, campus ministry, and the Feinstein Institute for Public and Community Service. It really astounds me how many of my friends stepped up and donated. It is deeply touching, and indeed it is another wonderful reminder that neither Paul nor I have to walk alone.
Exhausted from the walk and from my travels this weekend, I dragged myself to church on Sunday night, alone. And yet, somehow, I carried with me every walker, every donor, every friend who has supported us along the way. The communion song was "Blest Are They," and I found myself in tears through it. How truly, truly, blest I am to have such friends.
If you'd like to join us and help us raise that last $200, please click here!
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Going to the chapel
I could say much more in this regard, but two quick points and two quick stories. First, the preacher certainly made the point that learning to love one’s spouse over time can be as difficult as the great challenges of the Christian life, like learning to love one’s enemy. Thus he drew a strong connection between marriage and the life of Christian discipleship more generally. And, secondly, the group assembled for these particular vows was an oddly ecumenical bunch.
There was something wonderful about how many people of different faiths came together. And yet it was painful to know that we could not share Eucharist together because of those divisions. Still, I have strong hopes that, like our love for Andy and Sheryl brought us together across various divides, our love for Christ will likewise restore the unity of the church.
First story: I was speaking with one of my former professors after the ceremony. He mentioned being surprised that I had made the trip. I think that he was thinking of Sheryl and me as friends and colleagues, but perhaps not close enough to justify the trip (or perhaps the invitation!). I simply said, “She’s my goddaughter.” He remembered that connection, and it immediately accounted for my presence. I love people who take church seriously enough that such answers are sufficient.
Second story: the groom was received into full communion in the Catholic Church this past Easter. The man who served as his sponsor was talking to me about his own journey into full communion with Rome. He told me that the first time he ever attended a Catholic liturgy was when he came to the Easter Vigil for Sheryl’s baptism four years ago. I don’t think you can draw any kind of causal chain from Sheryl’s baptism through Nate’s becoming Catholic to Andy’s doing the same. But the set of connections is striking. It just seems to me that you begin to see the strange workings of God’s providence in such things. Our lives are woven together more intimately than we can imagine.
It was truly a gift to be a part of it. It was a joy to be reminded of how much history I share with Sheryl, of the power of Christ to connect his people, and of the privilege it is to have such friends.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Weird liturgical incident
I was at Mass the other night--late-night weeknight, on-campus, 20 or 30 people there, mostly students. The priest asked for someone to come forward and administer the cup, and a young woman did. She was clearly quite pious and reverent in her bearing and intent. But the result was comical.
This young woman--and I've never seen anything even approaching what she did--lifted the cup above the heads of every communicant. This would have been merely odd, except for the (relatively new) practice of bowing before you receive.
How this basically worked was this. As each (highly pious daily-mass-going) communicant approached the cup, s/he made a deep bow. Almost in time with the downward movement of the bow, the cup began to rise. Each communicant came up expecting to see the cup at the normal level (about chest level), the level it had been when they started bowing. But it was at least at face-level, and, as they came up, the cup minister gave it one last little lift, as if she needed to see them see that this cup was above them. (It reminded me a bit of how my dog looks when I hold a treat above her nose.) Everyone of them was a little surprised, but followed the cup.
The whole movement, repeated so many times, reminded me of little windup figures, stuck making the same movements over and over again.
Just a strange thing that made me laugh.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A poem for fall
Spring and Fall:
to a Young Child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Success?
Paul and I went to a NAMI luncheon today, kicking off the preparation for NAMIWalks for the Mind of America. The walk is October 4th. If you can, please walk with us or at least donate to the cause. The team is Paul's Pals, in Paul's honor.
As we were driving home, stopped at a light, Paul suddenly asked me if he is a success. I didn't quite know what to say, so I used that famous stall tactic of teachers everywhere: "well, what do you mean by success?" Paul sort stumbled through a definition that rolled into some assessment "I guess having a good job ... I'm not really working now ... and maybe ... I don't know...." It was heartbreaking.
And I had one of those moments--I've had about 3 in my life--where I felt REALLY inspired, almost like I was hearing someone else say these things as they came out of my mouth. I wish I could remember it, but it was basically this: Paul, you've been given burdens and obstacles that would have defeated most people, but here you are day after day, still standing, still putting one foot in front of the other. There is no question that, if you take everything into account, you are a success. There were tears in my eyes as I spoke. Paul pretty much shrugged and said "Yeah, I guess."
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Checking in
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Two more places
Here are two quick stories about encountering Christ at play in our world.
One story starts, more or less, on Facebook. My friend Erik, whose life overlapped mine for both undergraduate and masters work, found me on Facebook a couple months ago. He lives less than an hour away from me now, and we talked about getting together sometime, but he had this interesting suggestion: he was going to be going on a retreat on Cape Cod the first weekend of February. Why didn't I come along? So I did, and I reconnected with Erik and some other old friends, and met some new ones. The theme of the retreat? "Christ in Ten Thousand Places." Very nice. Restored my desire to try to look for and write about all the places Christ is playing in my life. And the Cape was beautiful!
So this weekend, I was back at home in my own parish, and undertaking my second time serving as a eucharistic minister. (I've done so before, but it's been years!) I was struck by the sensation of repeating the phrase "The Body of Christ" as I looked at face after face. "...for Christ plays in ten thousand places, / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his / To the Father through the features of men’s faces." Not hard to see Christ there!