. . . subLiminality . . .

It so happened that Naomi had a relative by marriage, a man prominent and rich, connected with Elimelech's family. His name was Boaz. One day Ruth, the Moabite foreigner, said to Naomi, "I'm going to work; I'm going out to glean among the sheaves, following after some harvester who will treat me kindly." Naomi said, "Go ahead, dear daughter."

And so she set out. She went and started gleaning in a field, following in the wake of the harvesters. Eventually she ended up in the part of the field owned by Boaz, her father-in-law Elimelech's relative. A little later Boaz came out from Bethlehem, greeting his harvesters, "God be with you!" They replied, "And God bless you!"

Boaz asked his young servant who was foreman over the farm hands, "Who is this young woman? Where did she come from?"

The foreman said, "Why, that's the Moabite girl, the one who came with Naomi from the country of Moab. She asked permission. 'Let me glean,' she said, 'and gather among the sheaves following after your harvesters.' She's been at it steady ever since, from early morning until now, without so much as a break."

Then Boaz spoke to Ruth: "Listen, my daughter. From now on don't go to any other field to glean—stay right here in this one. And stay close to my young women. Watch where they are harvesting and follow them. And don't worry about a thing; I've given orders to my servants not to harass you. When you get thirsty, feel free to go and drink from the water buckets that the servants have filled."

She dropped to her knees, then bowed her face to the ground. "How does this happen that you should pick me out and treat me so kindly—me, a foreigner?"

Boaz answered her, "I've heard all about you—heard about the way you treated your mother-in-law after the death of her husband, and how you left your father and mother and the land of your birth and have come to live among a bunch of total strangers. God reward you well for what you've done—and with a generous bonus besides from God, to whom you've come seeking protection under his wings."

She said, "Oh sir, such grace, such kindness—I don't deserve it. You've touched my heart, treated me like one of your own. And I don't even belong here!"

At the lunch break, Boaz said to her, "Come over here; eat some bread. Dip it in the wine."

So she joined the harvesters. Boaz passed the roasted grain to her. She ate her fill and even had some left over.

When she got up to go back to work, Boaz ordered his servants: "Let her glean where there's still plenty of grain on the ground—make it easy for her. Better yet, pull some of the good stuff out and leave it for her to glean. Give her special treatment."

Ruth gleaned in the field until evening. When she threshed out what she had gathered, she ended up with nearly a full sack of barley! She gathered up her gleanings, went back to town, and showed her mother-in-law the results of her day's work; she also gave her the leftovers from her lunch.

Naomi asked her, "So where did you glean today? Whose field? God bless whoever it was who took such good care of you!"

Ruth told her mother-in-law, "The man with whom I worked today? His name is Boaz."

Naomi said to her daughter-in-law, "Why, God bless that man! God hasn't quite walked out on us after all! He still loves us, in bad times as well as good!"

Naomi went on, "That man, Ruth, is one of our circle of covenant redeemers, a close relative of ours!"

Ruth the Moabitess said, "Well, listen to this: He also told me, 'Stick with my workers until my harvesting is finished.'"

Naomi said to Ruth, "That's wonderful, dear daughter! Do that! You'll be safe in the company of his young women; no danger now of being raped in some stranger's field."

So Ruth did it—she stuck close to Boaz's young women, gleaning in the fields daily until both the barley and wheat harvesting were finished. And she continued living with her mother-in-law.

From Eugene Peterson's translation of Ruth 2, The Message

Posted by Edward Traub at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My family and I took a much needed vacation back to Michigan and Illinois, we're talkin' a roadtrip! 4 kids, and our stuff packed into our Toyota Sienna and a Thule carrier on top! Most people wonder if it's actually 'fun' to do that, and I must answer with a resounding YES...I'm a romantic when it comes to travel, no matter what goes wrong or how many times I yell at my kids along the way. [on that whole 'yelling' at the kids thing, yes it does happen, and I've come to the rather disconcerting conclusion that the kids actually understand why we get so angry sometimes and they knowingly continue to do their best to keep the 'good times' rolling]

We literally slept in the middle of buffalo in North Dakota with no more than a tent screen between the biggest buff I've ever seen and my tiny 2-year-old daughter (if you want in on the action, go to the Theodore Roosevelt National Park and camp for a night).

We slept the next night a hundred yards from Lake Michigan (we arrived at our site at 3 a.m., we tried our darndest to get to Escanaba in da' moonlight...but settled for an incredible sunrise and beautiful children splashing in the water).

Heather and I got to hang out with friends we haven't seen in at least 2 years. We spent more time at the beach in Ludington (MI) than I think I've ever spent in one week (my wife was in heaven).

I listened as some of my best friends in the world shared their deepest and darkest struggles, and I shed tears even if they refused to do so themselves...and it should be pointed out that I have no doubt they would do the same for me.

Heather and I went to two weddings in one week without children...that's really fun! One of the weddings was for a young woman who we shared our lives with as youth pastors. I cried like the father-of-the-bride when she came down the isle...flooded with memories that included the privilege of baptizing her (and her maid of honor) in Lake Michigan.

While visiting my family in Illinois, we battled our second round of some strange flu bug, but still managed to enjoy some much needed time with my folks and my sister and my grandmother who (bless her heart) asks the same questions over and over again. At least I think she still remembers who I am.

Heather and I celebrated our 10th anniversary with a date to Silver Creek Restaurant in Urbana, IL (we both highly recommend it). We were treated like celebrities, partly because it was our anniversary and partly because the bartender found out we were from Seattle area (don't ask me why Seattle elicits such attention in the midwest...maybe it's the whole Grey's Anatomy thing or maybe the Frazier thing...I don't know). But we had a blast. I highly recommend a new beer from New Holland Brewery in Holland, MI called 'Dragon's Milk.' Yummy!

On our way back to the Seattle area, we stayed the night with my dear pastor/mentor/friend, Pastor Chuck in Sheridan, Wyoming. What a delight to finally, after a number of years, visit with him and his wife, Linda. What I'm so amazed by is when I get to see people literally living their dreams in a community they love dearly. Words can't express what Chuck has meant to me and I look forward to our next visit.

So here we are getting back to the real world. I always get depressed upon returning from a trip away from my life. But school has started, soccer practice and games have begun, I'm taking on a new job with a contractor next week (the first time I'v really worked for someone in that field in quite a few years), and I've already preached two weeks at a little church in Cathlament, WA where I was treated so well. But still I'm not so sure I like getting back to the real world.

My kids were watching The Lion, The Witch, & the Wardrobe the other day...they're so funny about the movie because we have a brood that goes boy-girl-boy-girl as well so they each identify with one of the characters and there are no disagreements because it just fits! But do you know what always gets me the most about that film? Two things: 1) I always get teared up when the children are first traveling by train to the 'Professor's' house, the music, the plot are oddly gut-wrenching to me...the idea of leaving home to go where you don't even know if you're wanted and so on, and especially 2) when the children, after what has seemed like many years and they've 'grown up' in Narnia happen to discover the wardrobe again and gradually return to the so-called 'real world' of WWII England... That gets me every time, the disappointment over the return, the sadness over an experience that I'd rather remain in, even if it was only a fantasy.

Now I didn't fight in any wars during our trip, nor did I meet any fawns (the half man half goat kind), but it did feel like we were transported to another world as we journeyed as a family to see good friends and family. I hope we can do it again!

Posted by Edward Traub at 08:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I painted this piece in 2005 for a larger series of works titled "The Alien Role Revisited"...there's a small photo of this painting sitting here on our desk that keeps speaking to me for some reason; more accurately, it kind of annoys me. One of those paintings that 'just happened'...one of those that I'm embarrassed to tell folks how long it took to actually, physically 'paint.' Then again, the decision itself to 'let it be' is part of the process of this artform (at least in my opinion) and cannot be accomplished sometimes after months of maticulous labor.

What annoys me about it is the story behind it. It's a story of brutality and sadness told here to generations in a rather cold and detached fashion. It's a story that reminds me, in all its brutality, that humans haven't necessarily progessed much further than we like to think. It's a story of choosing again and again what I call the 'Alien role.' The violence I perpetrate is more 'civilized.' The incisions are far cleaner, but the harm no less painful. War is reported in statistics and numbers, and I can sit safely at home listening to soundbytes and watching brief clips. I keep choosing this Alien role, not all the time mind you, but it happens nonetheless.

That's what's so annoying about this painting.

Posted by Edward Traub at 03:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

In February 2005, one of my best friends, Mike, called to tell me the news that his wife, Brooke, had given birth to their second child named Simon. Now Mike isn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but a couple days later he wrote me an email saying that Simon was experiencing some difficulties and that he was more than worried. I assured him that it was his right to worry...it was his son!

A year and a half earlier, their daughter, Tovah, was born. It was during a time just after we had moved across the country from Michigan to the Seattle area and I remember always thinking that these were friends we would probably grow old with and raise our kids with, you know, just do life together through a ripe old age. But we made the decision to move in order to chase some dreams of ours. All that to say that when Tovah was born and Brooke called and told me, I wept harder than I had in many months (probably not since we said goodbye to our dear friends 9 months earlier). So it was with great excitement and sadness that we received the news of Simon's birth. Excitement because who isn't excited for their friends when they have another child, but sadness (call me selfish) because we couldn't be there in person again to celebrate.

Another couple days passed and I received a phone call at like 5:30 or 6 am and I remember not answering because I thought that it was either a miss dialed call or a prank or something, and if by chance it was a legitimate call then they would indeed call back. The second call came immediately, it was Mike. He simply said to me in his 'non-heart-on-his-sleeve' way, "I just wanted to be the first to tell you that my son is dead." I was stunned and lived 2,000 miles away, I couldn't hug him or anything, all I could do was say a meager prayer and then tell him that I'd check in with him a bit later. Heather's immediate thought was that I had to get back there to be with our friends. As the day progressed, having solicited prayer from many friends and family, we found ourselves blessed with folks who wanted to get the money together to fly both of us back to be with our friends! Some other friends of ours offered to take care of our 3 kids at the time while we were gone (we now have 4 by the way), and so we were off.

Most of what I remember, though, was the story of Simon. Simon lived just 3 days but the stories Mike and Brooke could already tell were told as if he had lived 10 or 15 years and it was obvious that Brooke knew her son intimately. I remember the irony of that Sunday when we arrived in Michigan for the funeral, it was Super Bowl Sunday and we couldn't care less. We went out that night to savor fine brews at the pub, and conversation with friends new and old (Mike and Brooke, too)...we told stories both directly and indirectly having to do with Simon. There were profound pensive pauses in the flow of stories but it wasn't awkward, for that moment we all remembered a little boy who lived 3 days.

Brooke, a fantastic mom, had a body that was still functioning as if she were nursing an infant...talk about constant reminders. Mike got a tattoo of Simon's name in Hebrew on his chest (I'm proud to say I wrote the script and designed it). And now today their expecting another child in September sometime (and in fact they had another son, Lucian, just a year after Simon...so this will be their '4th'). Each pregnancy has been a memorial for them, and I know that fear and uncertainty is there still. I can't even imagine.

Now this week we learn of the passing (some would call it death) of a little boy named Liam. His mom is Kate, and his dad is Justin, and they live in Nova Scotia. Liam is a twin to Ben and a brother to Evan. Ben is still around and stronger every day, but I'm again struck by the profundity of a life well lived even as an infant for only a couple months. Kate has a writer's gift (check out her blog) and her words are, well, the words only Liam's mother could write. Coming from anyone else would not suffice, rather she's greiving and celebrating in a strange swirl of life. I wish on some level I could go there and sit with them, just sit there...just as Job's friends did. In the meantime, I somewhat helplessly sit here on the other end of the continent mourning in my own way by remembering little boys who change the course of things by simply hanging out with us for a few days.

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives..."

Posted by Edward Traub at 09:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Now look, if you're gonna come round here
And say those sort of things
You gotta take a few on the chin
Yeah, you talk about love and all that stuff
You better wear your thickest skin

Sometimes you can't please everyone
Sometimes you can't please anyone at all
Sew your heart onto your sleeve
And wait for the axe to fall

From "Skin" by the Vigilantes of Love...an oldie but a goodie.

The Vigilantes are no longer officially a band, but the frontman and songwriter is still going, check Bill out and see when he's coming to your neck of the woods.

Posted by Edward Traub at 08:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)