On Tuesday, the weather had improved from the Monday snowstorm, and it was probably 45-50 degrees in the afternoon and early evening. This night, the local "History Center" was open late and my roommate would never forgive me if there was a nearby "History Center" and I did not take the time to visit, so I walked up the hill and found it surprisingly close to the hotel. It was in walking to the history center that I first noticed the cathedral. It just happened to be hidden by the hotel at the front door, and just too far to the left to be seen from my window, which roughly faced downtown.
It's a large, imposing building that sits on a hill overlooking downtown. I admit, it's an imposing structure, but I wondered on my walk to and from the History Center what sort of message such a building conveys to the public about God. Majesty? Awe? Perhaps. But I also found it imposing and unapproachable. There is a proper deference before God that the Evangelical culture sometimes lacks, but at the same time, this building lacked the God-drawn-near aspect of Christianity that is also important. The building is awesome, but distant. What we need is a God both awesome and intimate. I'm not sure how to convey that though, as the intimate tends to also become familiar.
The main exhibit (at least, the one I spent the most time in) was "Terror in America."
Pencil Bombs. It's so James Bond, but a hundred years old.
What do I find the most frightening about this picture? the suit in the middle. A Klan uniform, for children.
You know what I find most frightening about this picture? The Cleaverish Americana feel to it. The reminder that the potential for fear and hate isn't confined to other people out there, but infects people who look like I probably would have.
A map (forgive the blur) of active hate groups in the US in 2003.
Wreckage of the airplanes that hit the World Trade Center.
From the other main exhibit I looked at: talking about natural disasters in Minnesota. The headline is just awesome. The lives lost is a terrible thing, but I can't help but love "Awfullest."
A wind-powered ornament, featuring Paul Bunyan and ox.
A plane skeleton, hung in the History center over the stairs to th museum exhibits.
For dinner this night, I had a nice beef shishkabob with a twice-baked potato and some seasonal vegetables, with a bowl of Wild Rice Soup, a local food you find everywhere. In the bar and grille where I ate, there was a free video game set up, which 4 20-something men at a nearby table roated through playing the entire time I was there. It was a wild buck hunting game, complete with shotgun. The guys were obsessive with it. It was... perfect, somehow.
4 comments:
The Paul Bunyan's ox is, of course, Babe, an equal partner in the Paul Bunyan tales.
The awesome part about that decoration is that as the wind blows, it shows Paul chopping the tree and putting it on Babe's back.
Sadly, you caught my ignorance. I hoped to pass of the fact that I couldn't remember Babe's name by referring to no name at all, instead of calling (her?) Blue (which is the only thing that came to mind).
You get geek points for knowing she even had a name.
Re: cathedral architecture
How do we capture awesome and intimate? We make the outside awesome and the inside intimate or vice versa?
How about a church building that is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside? (What I am referencing? I can't remember). Something like an English cottage on the outside, but massive vaulted ceilings with Judgement Day depicted in stunning 3-D!
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