at the table

conversations over coffee... 

back in line...

back to the table... 

to the bookshelf...

to the cd player...

why mango street?

 

"I knew then I had to have a house.  A real house.  One I could point to.  But this isn't it.  The house on Mango Street isn't it.  For the time being, Mama says.  Temporary, says Papa.  But I know how those things go." 

~ Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street

Part of claiming the Christian faith as one's own is to recognize that we are all living on Mango Street.  We are a transient people, still waiting for our real house.  Some might say we are resident aliens, displaced persons, refugees.  That is not to say that our present house doesn't matter.  In Cisneros' poetic novella, all the important stuff happens at the house on Mango Street, and a "real house" remains an unfulfilled dream for the main character, Esperanza (whose name means "hope").  

The two most confounding prepositions in Scripture might be found in Paul's admonishment to live in the world but not of it.  Whatever he meant exactly by this, we're still trying to figure it out.  At least I am.  What are the contours of this body of Christ that we are supposed to be?  What does it mean to be resident alien in our short time here on this tiny planet of ours?  

I simply don't know.  But I hope that this simple webpage - a few links, a few rambling thoughts and some good music to go along with it - I hope you might find this of some help.  Thanks for stopping by.