Dude.

Father's Day — in the US, at least — is quickly approaching. So it's somehow appropriate that I've got a hankering to talk about men. Nothing salacious, mind you … just a post on the enigmatic state of being a guy today.

I've said it before: men and women are different creatures. I know this, perhaps, better than I know most anything. As a gay man, I am inexplicably drawn to that elusive quality that makes men … men. It's certainly not anatomy; nor our job or the way we dress; nor our mannerisms or the roles we play in life. But there is something — something preternatural — that resonates within us, Male and Female.

So if it's not any of that — if our eternal gender is something so obfuscated by culture and genome — why care? Why all the fuss? I can't speak definitively, of course … but I've got a hunch.

Culture, in many ways, is part of a complex survival mechanism. It gives us the tools to both survive and thrive within a given context. Sure, it's imperfect, but it's powerful all the same. So being able to internalize and transmit ones culture is a sign of ones spiritual/psychological fitness in much the same way that symmetry in physique is a sign of ones genetic health — and it carries with it the same heady allure.

But something happened over the last century. Culture became unhinged, in many respects, from reality. The feedback loop which kept most aspects of a given culture intimately connected to its milieu was co-opted by technology and our own counter-culture drive. For the time being — blessed, as we are, with practically free energy and blinded as we are by technology — culture isn't a matter of survival. It's an accessory like shoes or cufflinks. So now we pick and choose from myriad cultures the shiny bits that intrigue us, while ignoring the repercussions.

Men no longer enjoy the confidence of living within a cohesive culture.

Sitcoms tell us that men are buffoons. That we are hapless, witless, feckless creatures — outshone in every respect by women (which, I suspect, is equally annoying to women). We're told that we think about sex constantly and engage in sex at such an early age that by junior high, the virginal male is social equivalent of a third nipple: pathetic and ineffectual. Other players tell us that average men sport genitalia of equine proportions and are either bronzed and polished gods or hirsute demigods. Still others feed on our sartorial sensibilities and dress us up in costumes unbefitting men who actually work and live in anything but Second Life™. I could go on … but you get the idea.

And that's just in secular life … General Authorities and their comments about the spiritual superiority of women and the odd and pervasive comments about wives always being right are as emasculating as the sitcoms. Moreover, the rhetoric of role-playing and stewardship — which I believe obliquely addresses eternal principles — is stuck in Mid-century America. With the Beavers.

But there's hope.

A nascent man movement in the US — which has roots both in religious circles and the secular world — seems to be scratching at the surface of the problem … and blogs such as The Art of Manliness and Rules for My Unborn Son are fine products of this renaissance. It's a hard thing, though, to refashion something so complex and nuanced as culture from scratch. It's a bit like the scientists of Jurassic Park fame attempting to recreate dinosaurs from incomplete DNA, spittle, and hubris. We're bound to create a few monsters along the way. It's not a natural process, after all — cut-off as we are from the bright and instructive light of life outside our technology-induced stupor. Which is why I think that the Church's role could prove pivotal. And the Proclamation on the Family is a good start. But I fear that we won't really understand the value of that document for some time — burdened as we are by the muddy mandates of memory.

So that's it. Like so many things in modern life, what it means to be a man is much less clear — but if we're careful and given to inspiration, we'll exit the other side of this fog better men, better sons, brothers, and fathers. Which is to say, in so many words, happy Father's Day (whatever that means).

NB: This post is cross-posted from Dude, please join us over there to comment!

What Is Modesty, Really?

I think we understand what the standards of modesty are in the church. Cover your garment if you where one or dress like you wear one if you hope to some day. And when modesty is discussed at a BYU campus, it's almost entirely framed within the context of the Honor Code — and the Honor Code Office's delightful, quirky, and just a little creepy advertising.

But what is modesty? What are we trying to achieve?

It can't just be about dress and appearance, can it? Sure it's hard to not dress your daughter like a floozie — but is that the length and width of the issue? Aren't we really just picking at the surface of a higher law — a body ethic?

What might that ethic include — what would it look like, how might it behave? And what would its scriptural underpinnings be — or would it come from somewhere else?

NB: This post is cross-posted from Nine Moons: What Is Modesty, Really, please join us over there to comment!

Zappos Is a Service Company…

… that happens to sell shoes. It says so — right there on their home page. But you'd think it was just hype until you read an amazing customer story like this.

Shake on It? Of Course!

My good friend Devin Thorpe of Thorpe Capital Group writes this morning about venture capitalist Brad Feld who:

joins Donald Trump in what I view as being a small, but growing trend to avoid a very traditional greeting among friends, business associates, church goers and others....and I had to comment. I mean, really, why wouldn't you shake hands?

1) You could be one of those megalomaniacs who refuses to participate in social norms to display their dominance ( like dogs try to do when they're humping your leg ). In which case, well, I don't want to do business with you.

Or ( and, perhaps, "and" )

2) You're afraid of "germs"... and you think that not shaking hands is going to keep you safe. Which tells me two things: you're given to flights of ill-informed fancy... and you think you can exercise unnatural control over your surroundings. Neither thing bodes well for you, and I still don't want to do business with you.

You see, I am not biophobic (a softer term for afraid of germs — because "germs" is a loaded word) by any stretch of the imagination. I understand that of the billions of microbes that inhabit the same space I do, only a rare few are in the least bit interested in me — and of those, only a tiny fraction are out to do me harm. The human race evolved to deal with microbes and infections, and I'm not about to short-circuit the system of bio-feedback attempting to un-plug from it. We need microbes, and people who fear them — people like Feld, Trump, and a few other noteworthy nutjobs — are living in a world that doesn't exist. And if they're comfortable with one fiction, who knows what other fictions they enjoy... contract fictions? milestone fictions? banking fictions?

Wanna do business with me?

Let's shake on it.

You Are Beautiful

A wonderful art initiative that declares, unabashedly that you are beautiful.

The Miracle of Mindfulness

David over at Protean shares this wonderful quote by Thich Nhat Hanh:

If while washing the dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not "washing the dishes to wash the dishes." What's more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can't wash the dishes, the chances are we won't be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future -- and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.

I thought it was worth sharing.

Poem: Strangers

Strangers.

When upon life's tangled roads,
a stranger you do meet —
in torn and tattered traveling clothes
or finer, gentler, 'ttire —
conspire not, within yourself
to bypass the passerby.

For whether they of kindred be
or of some other's sire,
tis not for you, their judgment mete.
But approach them and salute!
In friendship give a willing hand;
their burden you should loose.

And when, anon, the road divides,
do not part in haste.
But walk with them til eventide.
And walk with them again.
Then turn, embrace, and kiss:
this stranger you made a friend.

For ere you walked alone
in dire circumstance
for whither a man without a home?
Where is his happiness?
But when, with a friend, his road he takes,
there will he find his bliss.

So when upon life's harrowed path
a stranger's path you cross,
remember what a friendship hath
and more the merry be:
but do not forget in passing by
that kindness begins with thee.

____________________


This was a poem I wrote during my mission for a talk I was asked to give. It's a little contrived, but I like its cadence and its message.

Carpool Lanes & the Rule of Law

This will be short.

This morning, I was heading to work and there was a multi-car accident... traffic ground to a halt.

I was in the outside lane, just next to the carpool/HOV/express lane... and as I sat there, I counted a couple dozen vehicles whiz past me with only the driver in the car. Now, I don't like waiting in traffic any more than the next person... but I just don't get the presumptiveness of drivers who do this sort of thing. Sure it's just a white line ( and soon, a double white line ), and you're not likely to get caught... but isn't that just the point?

Isn't civilization just a (very thin) white line?

Yeah: I'm being a little dramatic... but not entirely... I see a fundamental break-down: it used to be that folks didn't cross the white line. Now it's commonplace. Anyway, just an observation.

( An aside: I wish that traffic fines were gaged against the likelihood of getting caught... a $2000 ticket for driving in the express lane — especially if it were posted regularly — would certainly give pause. )

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xxxChurch.com. No. Really... xxxChurch.com.

I don't recall how I came across xxxChurch.com (honest truth!), but here's the scoop: two young, hip (and handsome) pastors organize a ministry against pornography. They have a unique approach — check out their various sites (they're a bit of a maze, and suffer from brand dilution... but try to ignore that), and then come back here.

My question: could something like this ever happen in the Church? Or would we dismiss this as some form of priestcraft (like I do of every company advertising between Conference sessions)? It seems that our appreciation of authority and hierarchy (in the Greek sense of the term) runs counter to the Protestant entrepreneurial spirit. We may be capitalists... but the laissez-faire attitude doesn't extend to the ecclesiastical realm.