Quixote as saint

In the second chapter, Don Quixote leaves on his first sally.  He does it before dawn, by the back door.  He sneaks away.  This comic scene of the hidalgo on his nag of nags, arrayed in pell-mell armor, absconding before he could be noticed reminds me of these lines from St. John of the Cross

En una noche oscura,

con ansias en amores inflamada,

(¡oh dichosa ventura!)

salí sin ser notada,

estando ya mi casa sosegada. 

In this poem, the soul by way of the “Dark Night” is brought to the Beloved before anyone in the house (including the soul) is aware of what is taking place. This is for the soul’s benefit, forming it in the path of a saint: "amada en el amado transformada!”

This, perhaps, lends credence to W. H. Auden’s assertion that Don Quixote fits the type of a Christian Saint more than that of a hero.[1]  The comedic effect of Quixote’s story is often in the clash of realities, Quixote’s and the world he inhabits.  Quixote’s quest for justicia is ordained, not with the spiritual authority of another world, but with the filthy ledger of the economy of this world.

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[1] Auden, W H. "The Ironic Hero: Some Reflections on Don Quixote." Cervantes: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Lowery Nelson, Jr. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc, 1969.

Tilting at windmills

In Holy Longing Ronald Rolheiser suggests that Social Justice is different from personal charity, that if we are to engage in Social Justice, we must address the systemic concerns of injustice rather than just meeting the needs that result from the injustice.

A few years back, our local ministerial association started what we called Project Caritas to be an arm of our collective churches to address social justice concerns. The main effort of the project was a fund, fueled by our community Lenten offerings. Since I was so gung ho about engaging in social justice, I became the treasurer. We used the money to meet the urgent financial needs of people who came to us. A couple weeks back we ran out of money, and decided to end the project.

The question remains, "did we engage in social justice at all?" Did we address any of the underlying injustices that caused these problems. We talked about them... Things like unemployment, health-care costs, a difficult economy, but what could we do? Addressing such systemic issues seem too big for state or even federal government to handle. What can we do?

I wished we could start a revolution like Che, but without the guns.

The task is too much, I feel like a solitary Quixote in a world of injustice. Yet Rolheiser calls this work, our tilting at the windmills, a non-negotiable essential to our spiritual formation.

I am reminded of Willard's Divine Conspiracy: we undermine the world's system by living in the kingdom of God, by becoming like Jesus, so that the kingdom rules in the areas of our influence. In so doing we subvert the world and chip away at evil's hold, the devil's injustice.

Rolheiser agrees. "The struggle for justice and peace is not ultimately about winning or losing but about fidelity."

We go on tilting at windmills, regardless of our results, because ultimately our motivation isn't our own gain, or notoriety, nor is it even about humanity and making the world a better place. Our motivation is that divine fire within that compells us to live, and to love. It is the beating of a heart much too big for our chest, indeed too big for the universe to contain. So we fight on. Not with the arms of Quixote or Che, but with peace, love and a subversive spirituality.

"At root a professional is one who makes a profession of faith"

This a pregnant word, and we often miss the birthings of our words. I first had an inkling of the strangeness of this word professional when reading Don Quixote. He would speak of his profession of arms. It spoke to me of a calling and indeed a faith in something larger.

Especially for ministers striving to understand the latest leadership model, the idea of professionalism has become the slick business like way of doing things that runs many a corporate mega-church. We are concerned with how the world sees our shabby way of running things, a by product of volunteerism in local congregations. We see the slick ads and gimicks of the world, its programs and attractions and (sometimes rightly) lament that the church seems so far behind.

Parker Palmer criticizes professionalism.

"As professionals, we like to define ourselves in ways that stress competence, high standards, an ethic of service, personal sacrifice, and so on. But in 'Active Life' Chuang Tzu is examining the shadow side of professional activity, and he would probably propose a different deffinition: A professional is a person who has invested long hours and much money to develop and allegedly rare ability that others can be convinced to need and to purchase at a high price. Admittedly partial, such a definition points to the ways that we professionals get caught up in the 'world of objects' that Chuang Tzu describes. in the spinning of those interlocked illusions that too often trap the professional and the society in a vicious circle of nonsense" (41).

Too often I feel the weight of that definition. I see other pastors who are thriving and at the helm of large churches and doubt that I have that stuff in me - I am not professional enough. Profession as a matter of faith is another more noble thing. I know that one whom I profess is able to use even me.

On the other side I do feel it in the pit of my stomach when I hear people suggest that pastors need not be professional. Couldn't we simply be happy amateurs who make a living by another vocation? Couldn't any spiritually mature of the laity do this? As much as I like the idea of the body ministering to each other in an organic way, I find my own calling challenged by such thoughts. For good or ill, my vocation is a profession of ministry just as Quixote's was a profession of arms.

Excellence in all we do is a spiritual thing. It is done as worship. It is the stuff of the faith kind of profession rather than the soulless slickness of professionalism.

Dossier of a coffee spy: Chicago

While on sabbatical, I made it a point to sample all the espresso at as many shops as I could.  My many trips to Metropolis Coffee earned me the moniker Coffee Spy by the staff there. Here are my findings

In the many shops I tried in Chicago, I only found three different espresso blends: Metropolis “Red Line,” Intelligencia “Black Cat” and a blend by Coffee and Tea Exchange, a Chicago company.

A pour-over at Metropolis

Metropolis

Metropolis Coffee was perhaps the most impressive shop I visited.  Metropolis’ roasting operation extends to many shops and retail locations.  Yet Metropolis has but one location, fiercely committed to the Edgewater neighborhood, without the common aspirations to franchise. Their commitment to detail makes me as happy as a giddy Quixote gazing on his peerless Dulcinea.  I so enjoyed my experiences here, I returned many times in spite of there being so many coffee shops and so little time. Whether it’s starting an iced coffee with a bit of velvety steamed milk, or putting five minutes of attention into a pour over drip coffee, it is the preparation excellence that makes this shop shine. Their Red Line espresso, named after the train line that takes Edgewater downtown, is intensely mid-toned, chocolaty and resinous with bright tart sparkles in the end. I think modern day vampires might also find this exquisite espresso a nice substitute, as it reminds me a little of the sanguineous flavor for which they so pine.

New Wave Coffee

New Wave Coffee

While at the Milwaukee Ave arts festival, I went to this shop a couple times.  They served Metropolis espresso in a festive and artsy atmosphere so appropriate to the neighborhood.  The hipster vibe was pleasant and their treatment of Metropolis’ offerings was nicely done. 

On afternoon a walk down Clark Street brought me to a couple more coffee shops, Koppi and Coffee Studio.

Koppi a Traveler’s Café

Walking in this shop transported me some mid-oriental market place. In the front windows were low tables with cushions to recline by. They focused on their world food offerings and their espresso from Coffee and Tea exchange was on the upper end of adequate. The atmosphere was so killer there, however, that I can see why it is an area favorite.

Coffee Studio

Back up Clark toward Edgewater I found Coffee Studio. They were serving Intelli’s Black Cat espresso.  I had a friendly conversation with the barista about my espresso experiences so far in Chicago.  We both agreed that the Black Cat was strangely mellow that day.  Black Cat has a deep low end and usually has a tobacco smokiness.

Today that earthy quality was muted.  We could only speculate that it was because of the extraordinary humidity that Chicago was subjected to during that heat wave. The atmosphere was more refined here than most of the other shops I visited.  Clean lines and modern finishes gave it an upwardly mobile feel.

Caffe Streets

My doppio and cortado at Caffe Streets

On our way home from Minnesota, I was able to hit one of the many shops I missed during our stay.  I chose to go to Caffe Streets, which is the progeny of Barista Champion Mike Philips. This is the most refined coffee shop I have ever visited. Rich woods are layered on every surface from the counters to the ceiling. They serve Black Cat along with one or two single origin coffees as espresso every day. I sampled the El Salvadoran Santa Anna from Handsome Roasters as a single origin espresso.  While lacking the roundness of a blend, it held up quite well to the extraction. It produced a tart flavor in the mid to treble range. I also tried the Black Cat in a cortado.  The Cortado is a Chicago standard that I haven’t run across elsewhere.  It is about half espresso and half steamed milk (espresso cut with milk or a very short and strong latte).  Caffe Streets uses a local low-temperature-pasteurized milk steamed into a velvety micro-foam that melds exquisitely with Black Cat’s harsh sweetness.  It is served in a short breakfast tumbler with beautifully wrought latte art.

Caffe Streets bar with drip tower

A specialty I didn’t have time to try, the Neat, is a cold slow drip iced coffee produced in a tower of beakers and tubes the sight of which geeked my poor heart out.

Next time I’m in Chicago I need to remember to try Wormwhole (the home of Mocha Puffs), Chava, and Ipsento.  Have any others I need to try?  Leave a comment.

On the loss of a friend

Here I stand mourning the death of Don Quixote of la Mancha. His madness in committing himself to his profession gave me strength to commit myself to mine. Now I bid farewell to Alonso Quixano the sane. Thank you for the joy and sweetness your delightful madness has brought me. May my own peculiar madness be as sweet to me, and sanity find me praising God!