Listening to: The Five-Gallon Podcast, You First, After Me
You can find said podcast on iTunes - it's my boss from Inlingua ranting and playing a bunch of very wide-ranging indie tunes (but be ready for some occasional choice words).
Without a doubt, my 22nd Thanksgiving seems like the most difficult one so far, but I'm not sure that's such a bad thing. While it's been a bit difficult recently, I think that in the long run I will be a more thankful person for it. That sounds awfully gloomy - things aren't so bad.
I guess I'll start where that last post left off. That weekend, I went to a bar with a friend from work where his friend was celebrating a birthday. We wandered around for a solid half hour before we found them, but when we finally did we had a good time. It was an incredible bar - for example, the dance floor had a live DJ and a mic'ed hand drummer with djembes, congas, etc playing off each other continuously. It was nice to finally just hang out with some people (who seemed to be) my own age. Turns out, they were all at least five years older but thought I was as well. Must be the beard.
Being in that setting made me think pretty hard about what exactly it is I'm here to do. Am I here for myself, like the majority of the people at work? I don't say that as a negative; these people had the courage to come to Costa Rica seeking a different kind of life for myriad reasons. If having fun were my objective, I feel I'd be doing a terrible job so far - I don't have the time or money to do otherwise. If I'm not here for myself, I must be here to work with the church, right? While that's certainly on the way up, I'm really starting to realize the mortality and other limitations of my work here. Am I going to leave a permanent and positive mark on the community I'm trying to serve over the next three months? Maybe. Am I doing the best job I could? Absolutely not. I could definitely give more time and maybe even financial resources to that effort. So...what am I doing? Lincoln said, "Whatever you are, be a good one." I guess that's what I'm working on.
Last Tuesday, I cooked approximately 11 or 12 liters of an adapted version of mom's pheasant and wild rice stew (using turkey and a bunch of other different ingredients) for our community Bible study. It turned out about halfway between her stew and a white chili, which was a success in my book. It was a big hit among the other church members, as was my papaya seed dressing for the salad and my baked papaya a la mode. Between serving everything and running back to my apartment to get the dessert, I only heard one or two of the four readings and their responses, but that didn't stop Gregorio from nominating me to preach on Sunday. Not wanting to turn him down a third time, so I accepted on the condition that I could draft the sermon and have Sergio proofread it, then read more or less from the page. They enthusiastically agreed.
On Thursday, I was fortunate to celebrate Thanksgiving with Kat and a few new friends. We had a great time and it definitely lessened the sting of missing my favorite holiday. Before you laugh and call me a fatty, think about what that holiday really means. I think it may be the only non-liturgical holiday based on a virtue. To me, it represents everything that is good about my native country's culture: thankfulness for the rich blessings with which we find ourselves, with and including our families. It was especially hard not to spend those hours and days with my parents and brothers as I have for the last 21 years. Unfortunately, we have packaged the ugliest aspect of our culture (Black Friday) with this beautiful celebration in the same 48 hour period. I really do hate this "holiday," but I won't go into that any further right now. Suffice it to say I'm very thankful for everything last Thursday represents.
On Friday, a bunch of the youth from Sola Fe, Sergio, Belky, Wendy, Job, and myself left for a weekend retreat somewhere in the mountains North of San Jose. It was about a three hour drive, so we didn't get in until fairly late or get to bed until much later. I really, really don't miss being 14. Those kids ran, screamed, and otherwise boiled over with energy on no more than 6 hours of sleep total from 5pm on Friday to 4pm on Sunday. I did not do so well - in fact, I was very cranky by the time we got back. I believe one is supposed to gradually adjust to cultural behavior, but I'm really struggling with their habits surrounding attention, self-discipline, and respect. To me, when someone stands up to speak to a group with which I'm involved, I owe that person my attention. I will watch and listen to her with all the attention I can muster, and if I really need to shoot off a text or whisper something to someone I will try my hardest not to let her see/hear it. None of these concerns seem to be shared by those kids, which bothers me equally as a participant and leader. Anyway, I don't want to rant about this either...I have to stop doing that! Long story short, I emerged from the weekend tired and increasingly frustrated compared to when I went in. Church yesterday started about an hour late (since the majority of the congregations were still on our way there at 3:30) and I tried my hardest to preach the sermon I hadn't had time to write down whatsoever. Needless to say, I don't exactly feel I succeeded.
That brings us to today. I had a percussion lesson and an English class today, each of which went very well. Unfortunately, to top off this weekend, my fridge decided to quit working when I got back yesterday. I'll be throwing out a week's worth of milk, meat, eggs, etc as soon as I finish this post, which is continuing to put a bit of a damper on my outlook. Hopefully Sergio and I can recharge the freon tomorrow and get it working again.
I'm very excited to see some of you in about two weeks! As you continue to shop this Christmas season, please continue to consider involvement in Operation: Instrumental. Your contribution will make a direct difference in the life of a child down here, and I personally thank any of you who choose to do so in advance for your generosity.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tempus Fugit
Listening to: The Liberty Jazz Band (Christmas album)
Jonathan, I doubt you'll read this, but if you do, thanks for the music.
Wow! I remember writing that last post, but evidently I forgot about it pretty quickly. I'm still working out a few details on Operation: Instrumental, but I can tell you what it's going to be. The area I'm living next to and working in is a small shanty town just South of San José - not exactly a wealthy area. I've switched from larger music classes to smaller or even one-on-one lessons because, frankly, I can't handle more than three of the kids at a time. Unfortunately, many of these kids' families can't afford to outfit them with an instrument no matter how bad they want to play. Even without their own instruments, I can already see a lot of potential in some of them. My goal, therefore, is to get an instrument into the hands of every child in that church community who wants one. I hope that those of you who have the means to do so will pray about this and help if possible.
On the right hand side of this page, you should be able to see two things under Operation: Instrumental - a link to the spreadsheet and a Donate button. Click on the Spreadsheet link and check it out - this is my basic plan. I may edit it a bit as I figure out which instruments the students do or don't want to play, but I think this is a safe starting point. If you are moved to donate, click the button and donate the amount of the instrument you'd like to purchase. Please put your name, address, and instrument selection in the box for additional information when you do so. If you'd like to donate an instrument you have laying around, send me an email; depending on the instrument, that may or may not be feasible. Once you send either a payment or an instrument, I will update the spreadsheet to reflect your donation. That way, anyone considering a donation will be able to see exactly what our remaining needs are.
Ok, that's out of the way. Quite a bit has happened since my last post, though I don't think I have time to write about all of it. Here's a highlight reel:
Wednesday the 9th: I walked around San Jose all morning/afternoon looking for and pricing instruments. En route, I got hit by a truck. Yes, a real truck with a radiator high enough to hit the left half of my face. It looked something like this. The red line is my path, the green path would be a normal route for a truck to make a left turn, and the light blue line is what he did. When I crossed into the far lane, I looked to my right to make sure no one was coming, and he hit me about two seconds into that look. I stumbled a bit, but I didn't fall over. The driver was yelling at me from the cab like it was my fault, but some older lady saw the whole thing, made sure I was ok, and then proceeded to scream at the driver until he pulled away. I knew I wasn't hurt, so I just kept walking.
Friday the 11th: Heather and I celebrated ten months together. In the scheme of human history, that's little more than a blink, and honestly that's what it feels like when I think back on it. I feel incredibly blessed to be dating someone so beautiful in so many ways and I can't believe ten months have already gone by.
Saturday the 12th: Valpo won a football game. If you don't understand why this matters, read this article. Nebraska also won - I don't even know what to think about that whole Penn State situation. So sad.
Monday the 13th: I have (sort of) hot water! Gregorio and I installed my heated shower head in a very not-up-to-code way, but after getting in a shower that wasn't cold enough to make me scream like my girlfriend seeing a mouse (which I have only heard in my imagination), I didn't care. It's warm, and everything's ok. I still don't love my shower, but I no longer fear it.
Tuesday the yesterday: I went to two very different concerts. The first was the Municipal Orchestra of Heredia (a NW suburb) performing a concert of Costa Rican and Cuban composers at the National Theatre. There was an unbelievable composition by Eddie Mora for a flautist/ocarinist and string orchestra called ¿Quién Amanece? This literally means "who dawns?" and I have no idea how to translate accurately. The flautist entered through the rear doors of the concert hall to start the piece, played the majority of it on stage, and then exited stage right to end it with the same initial solo. Look it up if you're curious - it was very cool. The second was at the San Pedro Jazz Café. I went to see one of Kat's coworkers play a show with his jazz/funk/rock band, which was a lot of fun. They have some cool sounds, including an occasional jazz clarinet solo. I hope to go back sometime, though I'm not sure I'll be able to afford it too often.
And that brings us to today. I need to get moving - I need to shower and eat before I leave for class in half an hour. Thanks for reading and considering your involvement in Operation: Instrumental - together, I really do believe we have the potential to positively impact many lives in this way. I'll be back in the USA in less than a month!
Jonathan, I doubt you'll read this, but if you do, thanks for the music.
Wow! I remember writing that last post, but evidently I forgot about it pretty quickly. I'm still working out a few details on Operation: Instrumental, but I can tell you what it's going to be. The area I'm living next to and working in is a small shanty town just South of San José - not exactly a wealthy area. I've switched from larger music classes to smaller or even one-on-one lessons because, frankly, I can't handle more than three of the kids at a time. Unfortunately, many of these kids' families can't afford to outfit them with an instrument no matter how bad they want to play. Even without their own instruments, I can already see a lot of potential in some of them. My goal, therefore, is to get an instrument into the hands of every child in that church community who wants one. I hope that those of you who have the means to do so will pray about this and help if possible.
On the right hand side of this page, you should be able to see two things under Operation: Instrumental - a link to the spreadsheet and a Donate button. Click on the Spreadsheet link and check it out - this is my basic plan. I may edit it a bit as I figure out which instruments the students do or don't want to play, but I think this is a safe starting point. If you are moved to donate, click the button and donate the amount of the instrument you'd like to purchase. Please put your name, address, and instrument selection in the box for additional information when you do so. If you'd like to donate an instrument you have laying around, send me an email; depending on the instrument, that may or may not be feasible. Once you send either a payment or an instrument, I will update the spreadsheet to reflect your donation. That way, anyone considering a donation will be able to see exactly what our remaining needs are.
Ok, that's out of the way. Quite a bit has happened since my last post, though I don't think I have time to write about all of it. Here's a highlight reel:
Friday the 11th: Heather and I celebrated ten months together. In the scheme of human history, that's little more than a blink, and honestly that's what it feels like when I think back on it. I feel incredibly blessed to be dating someone so beautiful in so many ways and I can't believe ten months have already gone by.
Saturday the 12th: Valpo won a football game. If you don't understand why this matters, read this article. Nebraska also won - I don't even know what to think about that whole Penn State situation. So sad.
Monday the 13th: I have (sort of) hot water! Gregorio and I installed my heated shower head in a very not-up-to-code way, but after getting in a shower that wasn't cold enough to make me scream like my girlfriend seeing a mouse (which I have only heard in my imagination), I didn't care. It's warm, and everything's ok. I still don't love my shower, but I no longer fear it.
Tuesday the yesterday: I went to two very different concerts. The first was the Municipal Orchestra of Heredia (a NW suburb) performing a concert of Costa Rican and Cuban composers at the National Theatre. There was an unbelievable composition by Eddie Mora for a flautist/ocarinist and string orchestra called ¿Quién Amanece? This literally means "who dawns?" and I have no idea how to translate accurately. The flautist entered through the rear doors of the concert hall to start the piece, played the majority of it on stage, and then exited stage right to end it with the same initial solo. Look it up if you're curious - it was very cool. The second was at the San Pedro Jazz Café. I went to see one of Kat's coworkers play a show with his jazz/funk/rock band, which was a lot of fun. They have some cool sounds, including an occasional jazz clarinet solo. I hope to go back sometime, though I'm not sure I'll be able to afford it too often.
And that brings us to today. I need to get moving - I need to shower and eat before I leave for class in half an hour. Thanks for reading and considering your involvement in Operation: Instrumental - together, I really do believe we have the potential to positively impact many lives in this way. I'll be back in the USA in less than a month!
Monday, November 7, 2011
Operation: Instrumental
Good morning everybody!
You may have noticed a new addition to the page over on the right hand side. I'm hoping to get a big update done tonight or tomorrow morning, which will include a new project - Operation: Instrumental. More info to come very soon, but for now please do not use that "Donate" button until further notice.
Thanks!
You may have noticed a new addition to the page over on the right hand side. I'm hoping to get a big update done tonight or tomorrow morning, which will include a new project - Operation: Instrumental. More info to come very soon, but for now please do not use that "Donate" button until further notice.
Thanks!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Lessons in Humility
Listening to: Let it Be...Naked
"To love another person is to see the face of God" - Les Miserables
This is one of those posts where I have a lot of ideas and a unifying theme but no idea how to string them together. Here goes.
When I wrote that post on Saturday, I could have had absolutely no idea how challenging these next few days would be. I don't mean "challenging" as in "difficult" - I mean it in the sense that they have challenged my perceptions of who I am and how I relate to people around me. On Sunday, rather than go to the farmers' market, I went with several of our members to our sister congregation in Pavas. I had heard a lot about this church, but had yet to see it myself. They apparently used to be closer, but severed in some sense due to some relational issues a few months ago. They invited us to their campus to celebrate Reformation Sunday together, and we had a great time (except I left my brand new Spanish Bible there on accident). It was challenging because, as I told Heather, even a tiny candle looks awfully bright in a dark room. Pavas is a shanty-town, much like the community next to my apartment, but not long ago a neighboring community which had become mired in a drug culture was forcibly evicted. Naturally, a portion of them came into Pavas, and I had the privilege on Sunday to see several people sitting on the railroad tracks who didn't seem too sure where they were. Unfortunately, many were looking in the bottom of a half-liter can (at 10am on a Sunday). Theirs were the emptiest eyes I have ever seen.
After our worship and fellowship together in Pavas, we came back to San Sebastian for a few hours, then headed out for a sort of Reformation day party at the ILCO (Iglesia Luterana Costarricense). I think twelve or more churches turned out, most of which were Lutheran. It was a sort of mini-concert followed by something like a worship service with no sermon. There were some great musicians and dancers there and I relished the chance to meet some new people. More on that later, if I have time. When it was time for the offering, Wendy and I played my jazz arrangement of A Mighty Fortress (yes, you read that correctly) on soprano sax and guitar respectively. Heidi accompanied us with a little percussion and sang on the last verse. I forgot to bring my A/V recorder, but if we get it recorded sometime soon I'll put it up. It went reasonably well except that I got really thrown off when Heidi started singing and sort of lost my place for a minute.
After we finished, the presiding pastor got up to explain why everyone planning this event had decided against a sermon, talking about the Spirit's ability to work in whatever avenue he likes. A man I had noticed slinking in a few minutes earlier kept chiming in with "I agree" and "Amen"-type comments, which made him a fish out of water at a Lutheran service (this is one of the funny similarities I keep noticing). The man had obviously come in off the street - his shirt, wool jacket, pants, shoes, and hat were all worn down to rags. He looked dirty, greasy, and defeated, but he was there. He was so loud that, eventually, the pastor asked him if he wanted to give a message. The man seemed confused and embarrassed, but the pastor kept encouraging him to address the rest of us. He turned to us and thanked the young man who had brought him a cup of coffee and an empañada as he stood outside the church and told us how he just wanted to be a part of the music and the dancing and the celebration. Then he did something completely unexpected: he reached into his coat and pulled out a bill worth about $10 and said he wanted to give it as an offering. "Who will take this?" he asked, waving it around. One of the church workers volunteered and walked toward him, and the man promptly crumpled the bill into a tiny ball in his hand. "And now?" The crowd was silent. "Is it still worth something? Is it worth any less just because it's crumpled and dirty?" More silence, his raised fist still clenching the bill. "Soy yo." I'm not exactly sure how to translate this - maybe "this is me." He began to tell us his story - how he had been in a horse riding accident, sustained a brain injury, lost his ability to work, and begun his life on the streets. He kept reiterating that he wasn't drugged out or asking for money. He told another story about fine china teapot whose owner put it on the highest shelf of his glass cabinet to show it off. This made the teapot feel great. One day, the teapot was knocked down and broke in half. The owner threw it out into the yard, and the teapot felt worthless, and hopeless. Then, one day, the owner was startled to find a flower growing in each half of the "useless" teapot. He told another story, which I won't relay for time's sake, but at the end of it he just up and left - thanked us for the coffee and walked back out to the street when we went on to the next song.
I was thoroughly shaken by the experience. What had I just seen? Was it human? This poor little old man had just walked into our prosperity and delivered three parables like I imagine Jesus would have done had he been there himself. Had he? I have no idea what song we sang - I was completely absorbed in contemplation. Had I just seen the face of God? The hand?
The pastor broke that contemplation - "had any of you ever seen that man before?" To my surprise (and, honestly, my dismay), twenty or so hands shot up. "How many of you have heard of __some name I didn't know__?" A murmur went through the crowd. The man, it turns out, is a Costa Rican actor. He does events like this as a volunteer, and even as a pretty cynical actor I can tell you I was completely had the entire time. He was unreal, and I felt so let down and embarrassed. Of course it had been an actor - how could I have been so gullible? God doesn't show his face in our world - that's biblical stuff. I tried to put it out of my mind, but failed miserably.
As I kept thinking about this, something dawned on me. The man had not been God or an angel, true, but I had seen the face of God in what he did. God doesn't physically appear in this world - he shows himself through us. Maybe this doesn't seem like a revelation to you. Maybe you had to be there, but maybe you don't. Maybe every one of us can find the value in the discarded, dirty, broken, and crumpled up people we see every day. Maybe we can all do just a little bit more to tap that potential. Maybe our mission in this world is to love our neighbor. Maybe.
If you're curious to hear a little more of Bono's theology, read this interview, especially the second half. It's a different interview, but I think it makes his stance a little more clear.
"To love another person is to see the face of God" - Les Miserables
This is one of those posts where I have a lot of ideas and a unifying theme but no idea how to string them together. Here goes.
When I wrote that post on Saturday, I could have had absolutely no idea how challenging these next few days would be. I don't mean "challenging" as in "difficult" - I mean it in the sense that they have challenged my perceptions of who I am and how I relate to people around me. On Sunday, rather than go to the farmers' market, I went with several of our members to our sister congregation in Pavas. I had heard a lot about this church, but had yet to see it myself. They apparently used to be closer, but severed in some sense due to some relational issues a few months ago. They invited us to their campus to celebrate Reformation Sunday together, and we had a great time (except I left my brand new Spanish Bible there on accident). It was challenging because, as I told Heather, even a tiny candle looks awfully bright in a dark room. Pavas is a shanty-town, much like the community next to my apartment, but not long ago a neighboring community which had become mired in a drug culture was forcibly evicted. Naturally, a portion of them came into Pavas, and I had the privilege on Sunday to see several people sitting on the railroad tracks who didn't seem too sure where they were. Unfortunately, many were looking in the bottom of a half-liter can (at 10am on a Sunday). Theirs were the emptiest eyes I have ever seen.
After our worship and fellowship together in Pavas, we came back to San Sebastian for a few hours, then headed out for a sort of Reformation day party at the ILCO (Iglesia Luterana Costarricense). I think twelve or more churches turned out, most of which were Lutheran. It was a sort of mini-concert followed by something like a worship service with no sermon. There were some great musicians and dancers there and I relished the chance to meet some new people. More on that later, if I have time. When it was time for the offering, Wendy and I played my jazz arrangement of A Mighty Fortress (yes, you read that correctly) on soprano sax and guitar respectively. Heidi accompanied us with a little percussion and sang on the last verse. I forgot to bring my A/V recorder, but if we get it recorded sometime soon I'll put it up. It went reasonably well except that I got really thrown off when Heidi started singing and sort of lost my place for a minute.
After we finished, the presiding pastor got up to explain why everyone planning this event had decided against a sermon, talking about the Spirit's ability to work in whatever avenue he likes. A man I had noticed slinking in a few minutes earlier kept chiming in with "I agree" and "Amen"-type comments, which made him a fish out of water at a Lutheran service (this is one of the funny similarities I keep noticing). The man had obviously come in off the street - his shirt, wool jacket, pants, shoes, and hat were all worn down to rags. He looked dirty, greasy, and defeated, but he was there. He was so loud that, eventually, the pastor asked him if he wanted to give a message. The man seemed confused and embarrassed, but the pastor kept encouraging him to address the rest of us. He turned to us and thanked the young man who had brought him a cup of coffee and an empañada as he stood outside the church and told us how he just wanted to be a part of the music and the dancing and the celebration. Then he did something completely unexpected: he reached into his coat and pulled out a bill worth about $10 and said he wanted to give it as an offering. "Who will take this?" he asked, waving it around. One of the church workers volunteered and walked toward him, and the man promptly crumpled the bill into a tiny ball in his hand. "And now?" The crowd was silent. "Is it still worth something? Is it worth any less just because it's crumpled and dirty?" More silence, his raised fist still clenching the bill. "Soy yo." I'm not exactly sure how to translate this - maybe "this is me." He began to tell us his story - how he had been in a horse riding accident, sustained a brain injury, lost his ability to work, and begun his life on the streets. He kept reiterating that he wasn't drugged out or asking for money. He told another story about fine china teapot whose owner put it on the highest shelf of his glass cabinet to show it off. This made the teapot feel great. One day, the teapot was knocked down and broke in half. The owner threw it out into the yard, and the teapot felt worthless, and hopeless. Then, one day, the owner was startled to find a flower growing in each half of the "useless" teapot. He told another story, which I won't relay for time's sake, but at the end of it he just up and left - thanked us for the coffee and walked back out to the street when we went on to the next song.
I was thoroughly shaken by the experience. What had I just seen? Was it human? This poor little old man had just walked into our prosperity and delivered three parables like I imagine Jesus would have done had he been there himself. Had he? I have no idea what song we sang - I was completely absorbed in contemplation. Had I just seen the face of God? The hand?
The pastor broke that contemplation - "had any of you ever seen that man before?" To my surprise (and, honestly, my dismay), twenty or so hands shot up. "How many of you have heard of __some name I didn't know__?" A murmur went through the crowd. The man, it turns out, is a Costa Rican actor. He does events like this as a volunteer, and even as a pretty cynical actor I can tell you I was completely had the entire time. He was unreal, and I felt so let down and embarrassed. Of course it had been an actor - how could I have been so gullible? God doesn't show his face in our world - that's biblical stuff. I tried to put it out of my mind, but failed miserably.
As I kept thinking about this, something dawned on me. The man had not been God or an angel, true, but I had seen the face of God in what he did. God doesn't physically appear in this world - he shows himself through us. Maybe this doesn't seem like a revelation to you. Maybe you had to be there, but maybe you don't. Maybe every one of us can find the value in the discarded, dirty, broken, and crumpled up people we see every day. Maybe we can all do just a little bit more to tap that potential. Maybe our mission in this world is to love our neighbor. Maybe.
"To love mercy" and at the same time "to do justly" is the difficult task; to fulfil the first requirement alone is to fall into the error of indiscriminate giving with all its disastrous results; to fulfil the second solely is to obtain the stern policy of withholding, and it results in such a dreary lack of sympathy and understanding that the establishment of justice is impossible. It may be that the combination of the two can never be attained save as we fulfil still the third requirement—"to walk humbly with God," which may mean to walk for many dreary miles beside the lowliest of His creatures, not even in that peace of mind which the company of the humble is popularly supposed to afford, but rather with the pangs and throes to which the poor human understanding is subjected whenever it attempts to comprehend the meaning of life. - Jane Addams, Democracy and Social EthicsJust in case you haven't stopped reading, I have one final tidbit (though I could easily keep writing for another few hours). Yesterday, I went to teach my class at HP. It went well enough, but I left my umbrella in the classroom in my rush to get out after we went a few minutes late. The weather, like usual, noticed and took advantage of the situation. I only had to walk about half a mile in the rain, but my clothes were saturated in the first ten steps or so. I must have been quite the sight - a clean cut businessman in a shirt and tie carrying a laptop case but no umbrella, soaked to the bone. I walked by many people in that half mile from a wide range of backgrounds, but even those carrying a plastic bag and wearing the rest of their possessions had an umbrella. In that moment, I wasn't the fortunate one. I was the poor man, poorer in at least one respect than every person I saw. This probably doesn't sound like much, but it really impacted me. Fortune can be a very fleeting thing, and while we should be thankful for what we have doing so shouldn't give us a license to look past the have-nots nor to view them as inferior. They're every bit as human as the rest of us, and we could involuntarily join their ranks at any moment. I'll close with a quote from Bono, of all people:
All the other religions of the world teach karma. Only Jesus teaches grace. Unfortunately, in most instances, even Christianity teaches karma. - Bono, Larry King Live
If you're curious to hear a little more of Bono's theology, read this interview, especially the second half. It's a different interview, but I think it makes his stance a little more clear.
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