Here is Irony Embodied. . .

the Luddite starts a blog. Eight years ago I was handing out copies of Wendell Berry's "Why I Will Not Own a Computer" as if it were a religious tract, but today, I am willfully (and happily) using the Internet as a primary means of communication.

It's not that I'm a full-out Luddite, mind you. I appreciate technology, I really do. I just question whether our culture is becoming overly dependent upon it, and how healthy that can be for us in the long run.

Take spelling, for example. I used to be a pretty decent speller. Now, thanks to spell check, I am a pretty lazy speller. In fact, thanks to automatic spell check, I rarely even realize I am misspelling a word. Which is all well and good until I go to write a real letter, and have to keep looking up the words I commonly misspell so I don't come across as an idiot.

Ok, obviously, a misspelled word here and there isn't the end of the world, it's the bigger things that I really worry about. Like, what happens to a person who is overly reliant on fast, microwavable foods? Not just what happens to their body (the medical data, the statistical rise in heart disease, diabetes, obesity, etc, tells us that story), but what happens to their soul? What happens to their relationships? Food is a language and a medium of love in my family, I have spent many hours bonding with both my grandmothers in their kitchens, where family stories were passed down along with the family recipes they were teaching me to make.

But what happens to a world whose grandmothers have forgotten how to cook? Such are the questions that keep me up at night.

And such are the kind of random musings you can expect to find on this blog. Observations about what I'm reading, watching, listening to, thinking to myself, talking about with other people. . .in short, about life as it is experienced by a Lutheran pastor serving in Central Pennsylvania.

Given that the nature of my job is very public and proclamatory, I should probably add the following disclaimer: the thoughts and opinions contained herein are my own, and are in no way to be mistaken as official positions of the congregation I am serving, nor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Capisce?

And to those who are curious, the blog title is a nod to Wendell - I can't abandon him completely! - and my favorite poem, which he happened to write. You can read it below.

Alright, I'm off to spell check. :)

Peace,
Catrina

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.