Words of Wayne

Moving

2011-12-07T10:24:00.000-05:00

Hello, friends,
I want to write you all a personal note (especially my followers) but Google is not cooperating.
So, to Mary, Donna, Trisha, Libby, Jason, Kip, David and Don:
Thank you for following me. I am both grateful and chastened, chastened that I have not kept up my end of the bargain. Plenty of reasons, but no good excuses.
I am beginning a new blog today. I hope you will follow me there as well. It is called Hidden Latitudes: Seeing the world from a different place. The main reason I am doing this is rather silly; I have felt for some time that the name "Words of Wayne" was both pretentious and untrue. So much of what I posted was the great thoughts and observations of others. Mine were paltry in comparison. So the new name is more true, and I have a better attitude about it. The content here will remain as long as Google allows it. I may repost some of the better posts on the new site.
Also, I hope this will spur me to post more.
You guys and gals mean a lot to me. I hope you will find the new blog encouraging and thought provoking.
Blessings,
Wayne

The Gospel as short short story

2011-10-27T07:00:00.004-04:00

As a writer, I appreciate economical writing. Not exclusively—two of my favorite writers are Stephen King and Pat Conroy, famous for wordy, expansive tomes. Yet, like great design, the best writing usually occurs when nothing remains that can be excised.
One of the most interesting books I have read in the last decade was a collection of "55 fiction"—short stories consisting of exactly fifty-five words. It is a challenge, but offers great reward; you get to the end between sips of coffee!
Ernest Hemingway, famous for his economy, is rumored to have penned this short short story:

For Sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

You can spend hours reading that, and reading into that.
There are 930,243 words in the King James Version of the Bible. It spans from the beginning of the earth to the creation of a new heaven. No one could ever call it economical word-wise. Yet we are told that every word is God-breathed and meant to be heard and read. In other words, it IS as lean and concise as God wants it to be.
So I am not suggesting a replacement for any word in offering the following: How would I condense the story of the Bible (which I feel is ultimately the story of Jesus) into just six words?
My humble suggestion:

We couldn't. Jesus did. Follow Him.

--Wayne S.

Oops

2011-10-12T10:47:00.002-04:00

I rashly deleted a folder in Picasa which evidently stripped all of the photos from my Blog. Please enjoy the text as I try to rebuild three years worth of photos.

If All Men Are Good: Another look at Anne Frank

2011-10-06T07:00:00.027-04:00

One of the most puzzling aspects of the Jewish Holocaust is why over five million Jews—many well aware that they were headed towards a deadly end—allowed themselves to be herded into ghettos, then trains, and ultimately the gas chambers, without ever trying to avoid their fate. Yes, they were facing large numbers and superior weaponry, but they were seldom outnumbered. Trains carrying thousands of Jews, Poles and gypsies disembarked several times a day at Auschwitz-Birkenau, and all of them were directed to the camps or the crematoriums by no more than a few dozen soldiers.
It is said that the desire of flight or fight is a universal one. But the evidence falters in the killing fields of Germany and Poland. In the Foreword to Miklos Nyisli's Auschwitz: A Doctor's Eyewitness Account, Bruno Bettelheim addresses this question in regards to a very famous family:

Margo, Otto, Anne and Edith Frank

"Perhaps a remark on the universal success of the Diary of Anne Frank may stress how much we all wish to subscribe to this business-as-usual philosophy, and to forget that it hastens our destruction. It is an onerous task to take apart such a humane, such a moving story that arouses so much compassion for gentle Anne Frank. But I believe that the worldwide acclaim of her story cannot be explained unless we recognize our wish to forget the gas chambers and to glorify the attitude of going on with business-as-usual, even in a holocaust. While the Franks were making their preparations for going passively into hiding, thousands of other Jews in Holland and elsewhere in Europe were trying to escape to the free world, the better to be able to fight their executioners. Others who could not do so went underground—not simply to hide from the SS, waiting passively, without preparation for fight, for the day when they would be caught—but to fight the Germans, and with it for humanity. All the Franks wanted was to go on with life as much as possible in the usual fashion.

"Little Anne, too, wanted only to go on with life as usual, and nobody can blame her. But hers was certainly not a necessary fate, much less a heroic one; it was a senseless fate. The Franks could have faced the facts and survived, as did many Jews living in Holland. Anne could have had a good chance to survive, as did many Jewish children in Holland. But for that she would have had to be separated from her parents and gone to live with a Dutch family as their own child. Everybody who recognized the obvious knew that the hardest way to go underground was to do it as a family; that to hide as a family made detection by the SS most likely. The Franks, with their excellent connections among gentile Dutch families should have had an easy time hiding out singly, each with a different family. But instead of planning for this, the main principle of their planning was to continue as much as possible with the kind of family life they were accustomed to. Any other course would have meant not merely giving up the beloved family life as usual, but also accepting as reality man’s inhumanity to man. Most of all it would have forced their acceptance that business-as-usual was not an absolute value, but can sometimes be the most destructive of all attitudes. There is little doubt that the Franks, who were able to provide themselves with so much, could have provided themselves with a gun or two had they wished. They could have shot down at least one or two of the SS men who came for them. There was no surplus of SS men. The loss of an SS with every Jew arrested would have noticeably hindered the functioning of the police state.

Otto Frank

The fate of the Franks wouldn’t have been any different, because they all died anyway except for Anne’s father, though he hardly meant to pay for his survival with the extermination of his whole family. They could have sold their lives dearly instead of walking to their death.

Anne Frank

"There is good reason why the so successful play ends with Anne stating her belief in the good in all men. What is denied is the importance of accepting the gas chambers as real so that never again will they exist. If all men are basically good, if going on with intimate family living no matter what else is what is to be most admired, then indeed we can all go on with life as usual and forget about Auschwitz. Except that Anne Frank died because her parents could not get themselves to believe in Auschwitz. And her story found wide acclaim because for us too, it denies implicitly that Auschwitz ever existed. If all men are good, there can be no Auschwitz."

The evolutionary belch of the primordial slime?

2011-10-04T07:00:00.002-04:00

Summarized, the argument is this: if only nature exists, then when I think and reason and prove things, the only thing that’s happening is that atoms are moving in my brain because other atoms pushed them. Human reason is caused only by nature, by the sum total of all the material events, from the Big Bang through evolution to photons of light stimulating my optic nerve to send electrical charges to my brain now. Why should I trust my reasoning, then, if it is caused by nothing but blind, unintelligent material forces? If there is no supernatural Mind, if my material brain is not moved by or in touch with or aware of any superior Spirit or Mind (however many material means and intermediaries he may use), then I have destroyed the credentials of my thinking, including that very act of skeptical thinking. Then I can’t help how my tongue happens to wag. Then I think a certain thing is true only because atoms and wind and weather and digestion and electricity have necessitated it, not because a wise and good Father God is teaching his children through many material intermediaries, as a teacher teaches students through blackboards and books. If there is no supernatural, then science is like listening to a broadcast of the news when there’s no broadcaster, no one on the other end. The television set and the wires are like the universe and our bodies and senses: the means of communication. God is like the broadcaster. Would you pay attention if you thought the broadcast just happened and there was nobody there? Would you pay attention to your own thinking if you believed it was nothing but the inevitable echoes of the evolutionary belch of the primordial slime?
--from Angels and Demons, by Peter Kreeft

Pat Conroy on Losing.

2011-09-29T07:00:00.005-04:00

Pat Conroy, lower left

There is no downside to winning. It feels forever fabulous. But there is no teacher more discriminating or transforming than loss. The great secret of athletics is that you can learn more from losing than winning. No coach can afford to preach such a doctrine, but our losing season served as both model and template of how a life can go wrong and fall apart in even the most inconceivable places.

Losing prepares you for the heartbreak, setback, and tragedy that you will encounter in the world more than winning ever can. By licking your wounds you learn how to avoid getting wounded the next time. The American military learned more by its defeat in South Vietnam than it did in all the victories ever fought under the Stars and Stripes. Loss invites reflection and reformulating and a change of strategies. Loss hurts and bleeds and aches. Loss is always ready to call out your name in the night. Loss follows you home and taunts you at the breakfast table, follows you to work in the morning. You have to make accommodations and broker deals to soften the rabbit punches that loss brings to your daily life. You have to take the word "loser" and add it to your resume and walk around with it on your name tag as it hand-feeds you your own shit in dosages too large for even great beasts to swallow. The word "loser" follows you, bird-dogs you, sniff you out of whatever fields you hide in because you have to face things clearly and you cannot turn away from what is true. My team won eight games and lost seventeen... losers by any measure.
--Pat Conroy, in My Losing Season.

Life of the Artist

2011-09-27T09:00:00.001-04:00

“I tried to get a Christmas job at Walmart once,” he recounts, “and when I filled out the application, I had to put down, ‘Musician for 20 years.’ I could see in their eyes what they were thinking, ‘Musician, drugs, irresponsible.’ What they actually said was, ‘Thank you for the application, Mr. Mallonee, we’ll call if we’re interested.’ I realized, ‘If I can’t get a job at Walmart at Christmas, I can’t get a job anywhere.’ This is all I can do. On the other hand, this is what I really love, so I have to take the famine with the feast.”
—Bill Mallonee, quoted by Geoffrey Himes, in Paste Magazine.

Can you be a criminal and a Christian?

2011-09-09T12:49:00.001-04:00

A blog I read on occasion is Friendly Atheist. It is the work of Hemant Mehta, a math teacher in suburban Chicago (and who is, indeed, a friendly atheist). On September 8, 2011, the title of his blog entry was:

If People of Faith Commit a Crime, Do They Still Represent the Faith?

Mr. Mehta then referred to a study by the Brookings Institute and the Public Religion Research Institute. The study reveals that, if a Christian were to commit a terrorist act in the name of religion, 83% of Americans would declare that person as not a true Christian, while only 13% would say that you COULD be a Christian and a terrorist.
The survey also found that, asked the same question about Muslim terrorists, the numbers are much closer: 48% say NO, while 44% say YES, a Muslim terrorist is probably a true Muslim.
The blogger's only comment about the findings are this: "How's that for a double standard?" Well, it is, for sure. But I guess it bodes well for Christianity in general that we are disassociated with violent acts in the name of religion (although some think otherwise). As an aside, I think it is worth noting that the most horrific and brutal acts in history were carried out by people who, like Mr. Mehta, professed no faith at all.
But I'm sure Mr. Mehta (and the Institutes) would never have thought to ask an even more provocative question, and it is this:

Isn't being a criminal actually a prerequisite for being a Christian?

I think the answer to that question should be an unqualified, emphatic YES! For at the heart of Christianity, as Christ taught it, were two hard truths:

First, Man is a criminal, if not for crimes against humanity, then for crimes against divinity—rebelling against and denying a God who made him and sustains him.

And second, judgment has been passed and a sentence has been handed down. But strangely enough, the penalty has been paid for the crime, and we can walk free, if we admit our guiltiness and accept the payment.

I have said in the past that a church is "a wonderful community made up of murderers, adulterers and thieves." If you've worked it out how to atone for your own shortcomings (sin, in Biblical parlance), or you disagree that you have any, then neither Christ nor Christianity will be your cup of tea. But if you have doubts...

—Wayne S.
P.S.: For those of you who like to get your sociology freak on, the above mentioned study is fascinating stuff.

Dialogue, not dogma.

2011-09-07T14:03:00.001-04:00

“I just spoke to Christianity Today,” Farmiga shares, “and they were extremely grateful for fully realized representations of Christians, where they’ve been given senses of humor and exquisite personalities. And yes, faults, but not to the degree where mockery is being made. They’re three-dimensional portrayals. And then you’ve got the other side that have come to me and said ‘I was fully prepared to be cynical and not connect, and in fact didn’t want to connect. And I found myself incredibly touched, and I thank you for that openness.’ So it’s wild to see unexpected reactions from either skew. But you know, I think films are the best sermons. No matter what faith you’re coming from—Hinduism or Buddhism or Islam or Judaism or whatever. The best sermons within all these faiths are the ones that provoke dialogue and don’t instill dogma.”
—Vera Farmiga, on her directoral debut film Higher Ground, as quoted in Paste Magazine.

Science or Morality?

2011-09-04T07:00:00.002-04:00

There are many things that are “unscientific” but not anti-scientific, things science can’t prove but can’t disprove either—things everyone accepts, like beauty, and love, and morality, and the presence of a self, an “I” in this body, not just atoms. So there’s nothing wrong with being “unscientific.”
...
Today, most people who don’t believe in God are not hard-headed scientists who demand rational proof of everything, but softhearted, compassionate people who are afraid God is too tough, too demanding, too “judgmental,” too moralistic. The primary reason for refusing to believe in God—the God of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—is moral today.
from Angels and Demons, by Peter J. Kreeft

G. K. Chesterton on Mysticism

2011-08-30T07:00:00.002-04:00

Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic.
He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency.
If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them.
His spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that. Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also. Thus he believed that children were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth. He admired youth because it was young and age because it was not. It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man. The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand. The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious, and everything else becomes lucid.
—G. K. Chesterton, in Orthodoxy

What I Learned From Atheists

2011-08-25T07:00:00.005-04:00

Two statements: The Christian faith makes a significant, noticeable, and practical difference in a person's life. A person who is not a Christian is eternally separated from God. Either of these statements—both made by atheists—is a powerful argument for evangelism if we really were to believe them. If both are true, we need to throw off the influence of secularization, restore the Christian mind in our thinking, and unashamedly proclaim the truth of the Gospel.
—from Larry Stone at realclearreligion.org
(So many excellent thoughts in this article. Please read it all at the link above).

Kristof on Evangelical Christianity

2011-08-23T07:00:00.004-04:00

Evangelicals are disproportionately likely to donate 10 percent of their incomes to charities, mostly church-related. More important, go to the front lines, at home or abroad, in the battles against hunger, malaria, prison rape, obstetric fistula, human trafficking or genocide, and some of the bravest people you meet are evangelical Christians (or conservative Catholics, similar in many ways) who truly live their faith.

I’m not particularly religious myself, but I stand in awe of those I’ve seen risking their lives in this way — and it sickens me to see that faith mocked at New York cocktail parties.

—Nicholas D. Kristof, in the New York Times

Pat Conroy on words.

2011-08-18T07:00:00.002-04:00

Because I was raised Roman Catholic, I never feared taking any unchaperoned walks through the fields of language. Words lifted me up and filled me with pleasure. I’ve never met a word I was afraid of, just ones that left me indifferent or that I knew I wouldn’t ever put to use. When reading a book, I’ll encounter words that please me, goad me into action, make me want to sing a song. I dislike pretentious words, those highfalutin ones with a trust fund and an Ivy League education. Often they were stillborn in the minds of academics, critics, scientists. They have a tendency to flash their warning lights in the middle of a good sentence. In literary criticism my eye has fallen on such gelatinous piles as “antonomasia,” “litotes,” or “enallage.”
I’ve no idea what those words mean nor how to pronounce them nor any desire to look them up. But whenever I read I’ll encounter forgotten words that come back to me like old friends who’ve returned from long voyages to bring me news of the world. Often, I’ll begin my writing day by reading those words in the notebooks I keep with such haphazard consistency. Though I’m an erratic journal keeper, I admire the art form well enough to wish I’d had the discipline to master that sideshow of the writer’s craft. I lose most of the world around me when I fail to record entries in those notebooks that line my shelves.
I could build a castle from the words I steal from books I cherish. Here’s a list I culled from a book I read long ago—“sanction,” “outlaw,” “suburbia,” “lamentations,” “corolla,” “debris,” and “periodic table.” I can shake that fistful of words and jump-start a sentence that could send me on my way toward a new book. But if I go forward a single page I can listen to a different reading self who cherry-picked words from another book and recorded “atlas,” “villainy,” “candelabra,” “tango.” Each file of words seems outfitted for a different story or novel. I hunt down words that have my initials branded on their flanks. If I take the time to write one down I want to get it right every time I form a sentence. I’ve known dozens of writers who fear the pitfalls and fastnesses of the language they write in and the glossy mess of the humanity they describe. Yes, humanity is a mess and it takes the immensity of a coiled and supple language to do it justice. Writing is the only way I have to explain my own life to myself. I’ve amassed a stockpile of books in vaults and storage bins in attics and unfinished basements and tortoiseshell-colored boxes that I raid with willful abandon when I try to fix a sentence on a page. Words call out my name when I need them to make something worthy out of language.

—from My Reading Life

The Essential Fear of God

2011-08-16T07:00:00.001-04:00

Religious fear, or awe, is an essential ingredient of all true religion, yet it has been systematically exiled from modern, “psychologically correct” religion. What irony!—the thing the Bible calls the “beginning of wisdom” is the experience modern religious educators and liturgists deliberately remove or try to remove from our souls: fear and trembling, adoration and worship, the bent knee and the prone heart. The modern God is “something I can feel comfortable with”. The God of the Bible, in contrast, is “a consuming fire”. (See Psalm 103[104]:4 and Hebrews 12:29).
--Angels and Demons by Peter J. Kreeft

The Fundamental Need for Fundamental Education

2011-08-11T07:00:00.001-04:00

School, in teaching the mastery of skills (the three Rs) gives the child faith in his ability to master other skills—schools devoted to the debatable (social studies, multiculturalism, and other moot topics) weaken the child—for, even as they seem to endorse some inchoate sense of “social justice,” they offer the adolescent hungering for certainty a curriculum of pabulum, and reward him for regurgitating the school’s positions.
College, once a predictable, practicable course of study designed to fit the individual for self-support, has become, at least in the Liberal Arts, an extension of the bad high school, which is to say, of the terror of adolescence.
The advertisement of “choice”—in curriculum, in behavior (in the glorification of “alternative lifestyles”), while a charming idea to the conscious (pleasure-bent) eighteen-year-old mind, is, actually, to him deeply unsettling. For the eighteen-year-old knows that at some point he must abandon even graduate school, and get on in a world which, he knows, the pandering cry of “choice” is not fitting him for. Gender studies, multiculturalism, semiotics, deconstruction, video art, and other such guff, while attractive to the child, as they seem to endorse his “adulthood,” are in truth, terrifying as his clock ticks on toward the school’s relaxation of its authority, that date on which it will spew the unschooled, confused, skill-less student into a world which, he must know, is uninterested in his capacity for bushwah, and wants to know what he can contribute to the common effort.
From The Secret Knowledge: On the Dismantling of American Culture, by David Mamet.

On brothers, birthdays and institutions.

2011-08-08T07:00:00.003-04:00

Today is my youngest brother's 50th birthday. We will have a party, and celebrate this milestone with him. But he will not have his wife, his children or their spouses here to celebrate with us.
There are none.
Jeff suffered carbon monoxide poisoning when he was seventeen years old. After being in a coma for months, it took him over a year to relearn how to walk, talk and do the most simple tasks.
But it all didn't come back. He has an IQ in the mid sixties. Physically, he is as feeble as an eighty year old man. Perhaps the most devastating effects of his injury are the total inability to remember or think logically. He has lived with us for seven years (since our mother's death), but still comes down to the kitchen in the morning and opens several cabinets looking for his coffee cup, which has been in the same place since he came to us. When we suggest he fix a bowl of cereal, he will look through the cabinets until he finds the bowls, take it to the table, then go through more cabinets to find the cereal, take it to the table, come back and look in the freezer for the milk before opening the other door, and then prepare his bowl of cereal. Only after he has stared at the bowl for several moments will he realize he needs a spoon, which prompts another hunt through the drawers. Afterwards, unless we suggest he clean up, all will remain on the kitchen table. It is this way every day.
He will do anything we ask of him, but we must ask. And only one thing at a time.
Needless to say, possibilities for work, even volunteer work, are non-existent. A well-meaning friend suggested being a "bagboy" at the local grocery. I explained that the ice cream would melt before being placed on top of the bread.
Yet two things began to become obvious. One, Jeff needed an experience, or better yet an environment, that stimulated him more, that kept him busy. And two, I needed to do something else besides spend my day with him. I felt myself being slowed, becoming as lethargic and unmotivated as my charge. I felt guilty about not doing the former; and guilty for feeling the latter.
So we began looking at alternatives. But the prospect was daunting, and not a little bit frightening. I had visions of some dark and dreary place where "undesirables" were shunted off to be barely kept alive. It used to be that way. Laura Hillenbrand, in her book Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption, describes such a time, not so long ago:

In the 1930s, America was infatuated with the pseudoscience of eugenics and its promise of strengthening the human race by culling the “unfit” from the genetic pool. Along with the “feebleminded,” insane, and criminal, those so classified included women who had sex out of wedlock (considered a mental illness), orphans, the disabled, the poor, the homeless, epileptics, masturbators, the blind and the deaf, alcoholics, and girls whose genitals exceeded certain measurements. Some eugenicists advocated euthanasia, and in mental hospitals, this was quietly carried out on scores of people through “lethal neglect” or outright murder. At one Illinois mental hospital, new patients were dosed with milk from cows infected with tuberculosis, in the belief that only the undesirable would perish. As many as four in ten of these patients died. A more popular tool of eugenics was forced sterilization, employed on a raft of lost souls who, through misbehavior or misfortune, fell into the hands of state governments.

Not a pretty picture. Of course, insane asylums no longer exists, but there are nevertheless some frightening places still around.
But a serendipitous (i.e. God-inspired) comment from a new friend led us to just the perfect place. Annandale Village is a community in Suwanee, Georgia (45 minutes northeast of Atlanta) which offers a bucolic, community style setting for adults with developmental disabilities and traumatic brain injuries. After visiting, we allowed Jeff to stay a week. We were unsure of how he would react to the place (His first comment the first day: "Is this a nursing home?") but he thrived. He was led into a dizzying world of events, field trips, and a sheltered workshop. We told him this was no nursing home; it was more like perpetual summer camp.

Jeff will soon be going back for his second week-long stay, and we are trying (along with my middle brother, Charles) to work out the financial arrangements for him to become a permanent resident.
We are grateful to be able to offer him the chance to be a more productive and self respecting man. And we don't feel like we are "institutionalizing" him at all.
Yet he will always be a part of the most important institution of all: our family.
Happy Birthday, Jeff.

Chesterton on Books about Success

2011-08-06T07:27:00.001-04:00

The bookstores of today are full of "self-help" books. I naively thought the genre began near the middle of the last century with Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People. But they had been around long enough that, by 1908, G. K. Chesterton, the English writer, had already had his fill. Listen, as in his inimitable style, he excoriates both the writers and their advice:

THE FALLACY OF SUCCESS

There has appeared in our time a particular class of books and articles which I sincerely and solemnly think may be called the silliest ever known among men. They are much more wild than the wildest romances of chivalry and much more dull than the dullest religious tract. Moreover, the romances of chivalry were at least about chivalry; the religious tracts are about religion. But these things are about nothing; they are about what is called Success. On every bookstall, in every magazine, you may find works telling people how to succeed. They are books showing men how to succeed in everything; they are written by men who cannot even succeed in writing books. To begin with, of course, there is no such thing as Success. Or, if you like to put it so, there is nothing that is not successful. That a thing is successful merely means that it is; a millionaire is successful in being a millionaire and a donkey in being a donkey. Any live man has succeeded in living; any dead man may have succeeded in committing suicide. But, passing over the bad logic and bad philosophy in the phrase, we may take it, as these writers do, in the ordinary sense of success in obtaining money or worldly position. These writers profess to tell the ordinary man how he may succeed in his trade or speculation--how, if he is a builder, he may succeed as a builder; how, if he is a stockbroker, he may succeed as a stockbroker. They profess to show him how, if he is a grocer, he may become a sporting yachtsman; how, if he is a tenth-rate journalist, he may become a peer; and how, if he is a German Jew, he may become an Anglo-Saxon. This is a definite and business-like proposal, and I really think that the people who buy these books (if any people do buy them) have a moral, if not a legal, right to ask for their money back. Nobody would dare to publish a book about electricity which literally told one nothing about electricity; no one would dare to publish an article on botany which showed that the writer did not know which end of a plant grew in the earth. Yet our modern world is full of books about Success and successful people which literally contain no kind of idea, and scarcely any kind of verbal sense.

From All Things Considered.

Why Tolerance is Condescending

2011-07-25T09:00:00.015-04:00

Penn Jillette is a very talented magician, the more statuesque half of Penn and Teller. He is also an outspoken atheist. Yet he remains one of the, if not nicest, then honest, ones and often has good things to say about sincere believers, even if he believes them sincerely wrong. Here's an example:

"One of the reasons I get along so much better with fundamentalist Christians than I do with liberal Christians, is that fundamentalist Christians, I can look them in the eye and say, 'You are wrong.' They also know that I will always fight for their right to say that. And I will celebrate their right to say that. But I will look them in the eye and say, "You're wrong." And the fundamentalist will look me in the eye and say, 'You're wrong.' And that, to me, is respect.

"The more liberal religious people who go, 'There are many paths to truth, you just go on, and maybe you'll find your way' --[this] is the way you talk to a child, and I bristle at that."

Here is the video which includes the comment. Warning: Not all of it is as polite.

The death of a bookstore, the rise of reading

2011-07-23T09:31:00.001-04:00

It was saddening news: Borders was closing its final 259 bookstores, this on top of the 225 it shuttered earlier in the year. Not only will some communities be deprived of a good bookstore, but tens of thousands will be deprived of a job. No one, reader or non, can be glad at the news.
I have always been an avid reader. I remember reading Hardy Boys books in my upstairs bedroom at our house on B Street in Lindale, Georgia. We moved from there after my second grade year, so I was reading juvenile fiction at the age of seven.
I love the feel, the heft, even the smell of a book. My idea of a pleasant day at the beach is a large umbrella, a cold drink, and a book. I love to own them, look at them on the shelf, underline, notate, and bookmark. Most of all, I like to read them.
Yet I am as much responsible for Borders' demise as anyone. I haven't been there in years (I always found the actual stores too sterile, too European, for my tastes). As of late I haven't visited Barnes and Noble much either, for reasons I shall mention below. I do visit two used bookstores on occasion; I enjoy the aroma of older books and the dizzying layouts of the crowded pine shelves, but I seldom leave with a handful of books.
So why is an avid bibliophile so infrequently in a bookstore? I hope it is the reason many others choose: the amazing variety of books offered by online sellers, and the ability to actually read them in digital form.
As someone who appreciates physical books as much as I, I didn't think I would enjoy at all the notion of reading a book on an electronic device. Most of the earlier ones were atrocious. And reading on a computer, even a laptop, seemed awkward.
But that all changed with the Kindle (and the Nook). Finally, here was a digital device that mimicked the look (but not the smell!) of a book, was easy to use, and compact and light like a book. It took me a while to become accustomed to it, but once there, it became my preferred mode of reading. I especially like the way one can highlight and share passages with ease, and simply click on a word to find its meaning (I now know the meanings of risible and moiety). And another fabulous feature is that, if I pause my reading on any device, I can rejoin it on my laptop, tablet or even my phone, right where I left off. This is the best thing for a doctor's waiting room.
Amazon doesn't release Kindle sales numbers, but most industry watchers expect that the seller will eclipse the eight million mark on 2011. They did announce that Kindle edition books have overtaken paperback sales, at least in units. Barnes and Noble's Nook is said by some to be the sales leader in books sold, but not in Nook readers. In either case, readers can read titles on a variety of devices (I use three), so proprietary hardware is not mandatory. And there are several publishers (Google Books, among others) that don't even sell hardware, but provide readers for devices.
Both ease of use and portability are things I appreciate. Yet another key benefit is the price, with digital editions usually selling for much less than their paper cousins. Add the fact that it's available instantly, and tax-free, and it seems a no-brainer. Evidently I am not alone, judging by sales. So I don't fear the industry of writing and reading--it's still there. But it's changing.
Will I miss Borders? Sadly, no. Would I miss Barnes and Noble, or the neighborhood bookstore, like The Shop Around the Corner in You've Got Mail? Perhaps (like I miss Meg Ryan!). But at its most basic, stripped of the romanticism, a bookstore is where you go to find a book. If I can do that from my home, is that wrong?
Some people lament the loss of jobs and a sense of community. I regret the former, but question the latter. I can think of no time in my memory that a group of friends and I decided to meet up at a bookstore and spend some time together. I guess it happens.
What intrigues me most about the digital age of publishing is the opportunities it affords writers like me, unable to attract attention with even modest publishers, to publish a book. And although it is a cash cow for some right now, I would hope that someday college textbooks might also be delivered in this fashion, thus lessening a large expense for financially strapped students.
I don't know what the future will look like for bookstores, or books either. Music survived the demise of the vinyl record, and indeed thrived. There are more recorded acts now than ever in history. And I will, as long as I can, always buy good old-fashioned analog books (some authors, like Pat Conroy and David McCollough, will always be on the shelf). Yet I do not think it unfair to anyone that I read with pixels instead of ink.
Because I am a reader. I don't listen to books. I don't wait for the movie. I read books.
—Wayne S.

Unproven doesn't mean unbelieveable

2011-07-21T09:00:00.002-04:00

Can you prove the reality of the supernatural?

Even if I can’t, you also can’t prove its nonexistence. Naturalism cannot be proved. How could the fish in a little fishbowl prove that there is no world outside the fishbowl? How could an unborn baby prove there is no life outside the womb? How could man, bound to nature, prove there is nothing in addition to nature? You can’t prove a universal negative—that there is no X anywhere (unless X is self-contradictory, like a round square)—for to prove there is no X anywhere, you would have to look everywhere. Only God can do that.
—Peter Kreeft, PhD, Professor of Philosophy at Boston College, in Angels and Demons.

Reconciling God of the Old and New Testament

2011-07-08T09:00:00.001-04:00

How does one reconcile the loving God of the Old Testament with the harsh God of the New Testament?

When I ask this question of students, at first they are shocked, and then most assume that I have simply misspoken, as I am prone to do. They typically have heard the question inverted, along these lines: "How did the mean Old Testament God morph into a nice guy like Jesus?" I assure them that this time, at least, I have not accidentally inverted my words. I then observe that God in the Old Testament is consistently described as slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, but Jesus speaks about hell more than anyone else in Scripture. The word hell doesn't even show up in English translations of the Old Testament.

—David T. Lamb, in God Behaving Badly: Is the God of the Old Testament Angry, Sexist and Racist?

Evolved or God-breathed?

2011-07-07T01:42:00.000-04:00

If you’re the king’s kid, you’ll act kingly. If you’re made in the image of King God, you’ll act godly. But if you’re made in the image of King Kong—well, you can read the papers as well as I can.
—Peter Kreeft, PhD, Professor of Philosophy at Boston College, in Angels and Demons.

Christianity gets an "attaboy" from an unusual source.

2011-07-03T09:00:00.001-04:00

I have admired and enjoyed this man's words for over four decades. Now I have more to appreciate him for:

"Why so many expend such sweat and precious breath to fluidize and demonize Christianity is simply quite beyond me. Surely there are infinitely more negative and disruptive forces at work in the universe than something that gives hope and comfort, let alone refuge, aid and medical assistance to countless millions. I imagine it’s pretty much the same old bag of rattling bones, the detractors and stone throwers bitch and whine while negativity and selfishness runs rampant in their insular worlds. When was the last time you heard of “The American Atheist Association” building schools and housing for the homeless and disposed on the frozen slopes of China or bringing in medical supplies and vaccinating poverty stricken tribes in the African wilderness while warring factions try to kill them?"

— Bernie Taupin, long-time lyricist for Elton John, from his blog. Please go and read the entire thing. (Hat tip Jared.)

Christopher Hitchens embraces faith?

2011-06-04T09:00:00.004-04:00

Martin Amis and Christopher Hitchens

Christopher Hitchens, my favorite athiest, is dying of esophageal cancer. Numerous pleas for him to embrace faith have been met with just as many pledges never to do so. But from novelist Martin Amis, whom Hitchens calls his "dearest friend," comes perhaps the most interesting entreaty of all:

My dear Hitch: there has been much wild talk, among the believers, about your impending embrace of the sacred and the supernatural. This is of course insane. But I still hope to convert you, by sheer force of zealotry, to my own persuasion: agnosticism. In your seminal book, God Is Not Great, you put very little distance between the agnostic and the atheist; and what divides you and me (to quote Nabokov yet again) is a rut that any frog could straddle. "The measure of an education," you write elsewhere, "is that you acquire some idea of the extent of your ignorance." And that's all that "agnosticism" really means: it is an acknowledgment of ignorance. Such a fractional shift (and I know you won't make it) would seem to me consonant with your character – with your acceptance of inconsistencies and contradictions, with your intellectual romanticism, and with your love of life, which I have come to regard as superior to my own.

The atheistic position merits an adjective that no one would dream of applying to you: it is lenten. And agnosticism, I respectfully suggest, is a slightly more logical and decorous response to our situation – to the indecipherable grandeur of what is now being (hesitantly) called the multiverse. The science of cosmology is an awesome construct, while remaining embarrassingly incomplete and approximate; and over the last 30 years it has garnered little but a series of humiliations. So when I hear a man declare himself to be an atheist, I sometimes think of the enterprising termite who, while continuing to go about his tasks, declares himself to be an individualist. It cannot be altogether frivolous or wishful to talk of a "higher intelligence" – because the cosmos is itself a higher intelligence, in the simple sense that we do not and cannot understand it.

After reading that, I felt compelled to say that Amis is right: The only logical and reasonable stance concerning God (that is, solely based on logic and reason) is that of agnostic. I readily admit my faith and belief in God is exactly that: faith and belief. Yet Hitchens probably does not admit that his denial of the existence of God is equally a stand of faith and belief, and not logic and reason.

So, I guess you could say Christopher Hitchens has embraced faith. Of a sort.

—Wayne S. (Martin Amis quote From "Amis on Hitchens" in The Guardian.)
UPDATE: The above quotation also appears in Amis's foreword to The Quotable Hitchens.

Not exactly combobulated with prefixes

2011-05-19T09:00:00.016-04:00

The English language must be one of the most complex languages around (my Ukrainian friends may demur; they use different words, for the same thing, when speaking to a female rather than a male). One of the complexities of English must lie in its use of prefixes. Some are straightforward, like un-, ultra-, or sub-. Others often seem unnecessary, like be-: isn't becalm the same as calm, befog the same as fog, besiege the same as siege? There is even a word smirch; it means the same as besmirch.
The most curious one to me is the prefix dis-. According to the rules, the prefix dis- denotes the negation, removal or expulsion of the verb to which it is attached. This can be clearly seen in such words as disappear, disclaim or discolor.
But occasionally the prefix attaches to a verb that, standing alone, would not have an opposite meaning. We have all heard of disgruntled postal workers, but what about the thousands of gruntled postal workers? If you distort something, you twist it, but a tort is a legal term for a wrongful act. If I discard something by accident, and then get it back, do I card it? No I retrieve it, which makes me wonder when I trieved it in the first place. Dissemination seems identical to semination to me. It is easy to disparage someone, but as far as I can tell impossible to parage someone. If I am saddened at something, I may be in dismay. When I am glad, I should say I am in may!
My goal here is not to suade you that English is a ciplined language, nor that we should dain it without question. I just want to make the point that proper usage is not always the aster we think it is. To think so would be showing real cernment.
—Wayne S.

What's inside the package?

2011-04-29T09:00:00.004-04:00

In doing some research on Blu-Ray players prior to a purchase, I was reading some customer reviews on Amazon. They usually prove very helpful, since most customers are eager to describe both disappointments and pleasant surprises.

In my reading, I came upon a review unlike any other I have read. In it, the reviewer... well, let me just quote the reviewer, Abe, verbatim:

I purchased this product as a gift to give my youngest, adult daughter for her 31st birthday. Therefore I can't say very much about how the unit performs in relation to video presented on the screen, audio, or Blu-ray loading speed. I can tell you that after I removed it from the shipping box, the manufacturer's packaging was attractive with interesting pieces of information printed on the box. The box itself appeared sturdy enough for the purpose of protecting the unit within and was of a size that made wrapping it very easy. The box surface adheres very well to standard Scotch tape which further facilitates wrapping.

The unwrapping process proved to be quite easy as well. Practially all the wrapping paper came off in one stroke. Opening the box was something even a two year old could accomplish easily. Once opened, the unit came out with a minimum of effort and a minimum of protective material that would have to be thrown away later.
Once all items were out of the box, accounting for each item that was supposed to be included was accomplished quickly.
All-in-all, this unit made for an exceptionally well received gift. I'd give it again and highly recommend it to anyone contemplating this unit as a gift to give to a good friend or relative.

   Of course, what is wonderfully humorous about the review is that Abe says absolutely nothing about the Blu-Ray player itself. Yet he is meticulously true to his experience with the product. I think Abe is either a very sincere man who wants to contribute to our decision-making, or else a very charming joker. Either way, I enjoyed his review.
   Further reflection, though, made me realize something. Regarding my spiritual life, I am almost always careful to describe it in positive terms. I talk about my church, my service to my brother, my Bible study. I talk about what I believe, and even some of what I practice. But I seldom get beyond the "box" and the "wrapping paper." It is rare that I will tell someone what's really in the box: a man with many faults, inconsistent faith, disappointments, debilitating sins and even bouts of depression. A man who believes strongly, strives mightily (not near enough) and who knows he is made to be something other than what he often is at the end of the day. I know some people (like my wife) see that my surface does not always "adhere very well" to the tape of the Gospel of Christ.
   The real value of the product that is Christ in me must come from honestly appraising my life, first before God, then to myself, and finally to others. We all want to know what I wanted to know about that Blu-Ray player: How well does it work?
--Wayne S.

Repost: Love Like God, or Love of God?

2011-04-04T15:13:00.001-04:00

Since the current debate in Christian circles centers around the love of God, I thought a couple of you might find this entry, from 2009, of renewed interest.

Perhaps the most quoted New Testament writer of all is not Paul, but the Apostle John. There are two reasons for this: John 3:16 and First John 4:8.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." John 3:16

"The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love." 1 John 4:8

The former verse is, of course, a great promise to believers and unbelievers alike. The latter is a promise, too, that we will know the true spiritual state of our hearts by our actions towards others.

Unfortunately, many (mostly those outside the faith) want to make the second verse mean something it does not. They want it to mean that "If we love, we know God." But it doesn't. If we love, we are perhaps most like God, but we do not neccessarily know Him. I may sit down and play "Yesterday" on the guitar, but I do not know Paul McCartney.

John speaks about love a lot. Severty-nine times it is used in his writings. It is obvious that he thinks love is a paramount virtue, and evidence of a true spiritual faith. One would think the writer John would be a perfect text for those who say "the essence of spirituality is love."

But John also says something else. In the same letter in which he wrote "God is love," he writes this:

"By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God; and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God; this is the spirit of the antichrist*, of which you have heard that it is coming, and now is already in the world." 1 John 4: 2-3

Yikes! Suddenly we find that loving one another is not enough. We actually need to confess that Jesus is God, sent from God. Here's where the "God is love" crowd drops back. But in doing so, don't they really negate the love part, too? I mean, if John is dead-set on this Jesus stuff, can we trust him on the love stuff?

Many Americans, Christian or not, simply choose to ignore the Jesus stuff. A Pew Research Center survey in 2007 found that in all major religions (including evangelical Christianity), a majority felt there were many roads to eternal life. Even our president unashamedly supports this view. But John doesn't. And neither does the rest of the Bible.

John sums it up this way:

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.
By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.
Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.
No one has seen God at any time; if we love one another, God abides in us, and His love is perfected in us. By this we know that we abide in Him and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit.
We have seen and testify that the Father has sent the Son to be the Savior of the world. Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God.
We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.
By this, love is perfected with us, so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment; because as He is, so also are we in this world.
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love.
We love, because He first loved us. (1 John 4:7-19)

Yes, God is love. And Jesus is the evidence. The only evidence.

—W. S.

*John uses the term antichrist here in a generic sense, as someone who is anti-Christ, not as some prophetic future ruler.

Illustration: Helping Hands by Nadeem Chughtai

Bono on Jesus

2011-03-28T09:00:00.000-04:00

If only we could be a bit more like Him, the world would be transformed. When I look at the Cross of Christ, what I see up there is all my shit and everybody else's. So I ask myself a question a lot of people have asked: Who is this man? And was He who He said He was, or was He just a religious nut? And there it is, and that's the question. And no one can talk you into it or out of it.
— Bono, excerpted from Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas.

The shorter water fountain

2011-03-25T10:00:00.005-04:00

   When I was a young boy growing up in Rome, Georgia, "downtown" was the shopping district. The first mall in Georgia, Atlanta's Lenox Square had just been opened, in 1959. It would be another twenty years before Rome would open a mall. So although Rome's downtown was only five blocks long, it was our Fifth Avenue, with a plethora of delightful and busy stores and eateries.
   I would often go shopping with my grandmother. There was one department store on Broad Street, the main thoroughfare in town. It was called Miller Brothers, and it was always a special treat because it had an elevator to the second floor. The only other elevator I knew of in town was in a hospital.
   So it was always a treat to go to Miller Brothers with my grandmother, and I was respectful when we lingered in the Women's section, because I knew an elevator ride awaited my good behavior.
   Parking was sometimes scarce on Broad Street proper, so we would often park on East First Street, the street behind Miller Brothers. Then we would enter via the back door, not as impressive as the Broad Street entrance, which had two large brass and glass doors. The back door, singular, was a less pretentious door, which opened into a narrow hallway with offices on one side, and bathrooms on the other.
   I remember one visit vividly, around 1960, when I was about six. We entered the rear door, and I stopped briefly to get a quick swig of water from the water fountain. There was a tall refrigerated water fountain, but it came to the top of my head, so I opted for the smaller ceramic fountain beside it, even though it was uncooled, like the drinking fountains at schools and sports arenas. It was just the right height. I was a few sips into the delightful refreshment when I was grabbed by the collar and rudely jerked back. I turned to find my grandmother looking at me with a stricken face.

   "That fountain is for the colored people," she loudly whispered, and pointed to a sign, which simply said, "Colored."
   I knew what she meant by "colored people," although they were pretty much one color in Rome. And I knew, at six, that these same people were called "nigras" by both my grandparents and my parents. I grew up in the segregated South and, yes, it was a racist society. I would see it change, and change dramitically, over the next fifty years. But then, I only knew the what of race relations, not the flimsy reasons why.
   I am pretty sure that my grandmother was concerned that I might get some ailment from using that fountain. But I didn't know that day what my transgression was. It was never explained, and I remember spending the rest of the visit wondering if I was rebuked for taking something that wasn't mine. Looking back from fifty years, I think that may be true. I think perhaps I stole a little of the quiet dignity of the black men and women who stooped to drink from the short, uncooled fountain, while lesser people stood and drank beside them.
   All this came to mind when I saw this video by Herman Cain, a black, conservative from Georgia who is considering a presidential run. Herman's story mirrors mine. Herman is nine years older than me, so his story probably took place earlier than mine. But although they weren't in the same year, it was certainly the same time.
—Wayne S.

Lewis on Liberalism

2011-03-23T09:00:00.002-04:00

Liberal Christianity can only supply an ineffectual echo to the massive chorus of agreed and admitted unbelief. Don’t be deceived by the fact that this echo so often “hits the headlines.” That is because attacks on Christian doctrine which would pass unnoticed if they were launched (as they are daily launched) by anyone else, become News when the attacker is a clergyman; just as a very commonplace protest against make-up would be News if it came from a film star.
By the way, did you ever meet, or hear of, anyone who was converted from scepticism to a “liberal” or “demythologised” Christianity? I think that when unbelievers come in at all, they come in a good deal further.

C. S. Lewis, from Letters to Malcolm, Chiefly on Prayer.

The Sorrow of God

2011-03-21T13:25:00.000-04:00

Thanks in no small measure to the publication of Rob Bell's book, Love Wins, there is a renewed conversation about God's love. To many "spiritual but not religious" people (including, I think, Bell), the love is God is the primary thing about Him. And I am not about to disagree. But it is not the only thing that makes God desirable or trustworthy. To me, He loves us because He loves justice, truth and righteousness, and hates sin. There are many scriptural testimonies to that end, but for a concise overview, I recommend the New Testament letter of First John.

Geoffrey Anketell Studdert Kennedy was an Anglican priest and poet, who volunteered for chaplain duty in World War I. During that time, he wrote a powerful poem about an oft-ignored characteristic of God: His sorrow over sin. When we think of God's love, do we think of His sorrow in seeing His only son "lyin' there all uv a 'eap, Wi' the blood soaken over 'is 'ead"?

It is neither narrow-minded nor hard-hearted to say that all must come to God through Jesus Christ. It is just. It is true. It is righteous. In His sorrow is His love.

THE SORROW OF GOD
A SERMON IN A BILLET

YES, I used to believe i' Jesus Christ, 
      And I used to go to Church, 
But sin' I left 'ome and came to France, 
      I've been clean knocked off my perch. 
For it seemed orlright at 'ome, it did, 
      To believe in a God above 
And in Jesus Christ 'Is only Son, 
      What died on the Cross through Love. 
When I went for a walk o' a Sunday morn 
      On a nice fine day in the spring, 
I could see the proof o' the living God 
      In every living thing. 
For 'ow could the grass and the trees grow up 
      All along o' their bloomin' selves? 
Ye might as well believe i' the fairy tales, 
      And think they was made by elves. 
So I thought as that long-'aired atheist 
      Were nubbat a silly sod, 
For 'ow did 'e 'count for my Brussels sprouts 
      If 'e didn't believe i' God? 
But it ain't the same out 'ere, ye know. 
      It's as different as chalk fro' cheese, 
For 'arf on it's blood and t'other 'arf's mud, 
      And I'm damned if I really sees 
'Ow the God, who 'as made such a cruel world, 
      Can 'ave Love in 'Is 'eart for men, 
And be deaf to the cries of the men as dies 
      And never comes 'ome again.
- 132 -
Just look at that little boy corporal there, 
      Such a fine upstanding lad, 
Wi' a will uv 'is own, and a way uv 'is own, 
      And a smile uv 'is own, 'e 'ad. 
An hour ago 'e were bustin' wi' life, 
      Wi' 'is actin' and foolin' and fun; 
'E were simply the life on us all, 'e were, 
      Now look what the blighters 'a done. 
Look at 'im lyin' there all uv a 'eap, 
      Wi' the blood soaken over 'is 'ead, 
Like a beautiful picture spoiled by a fool, 
      A bundle o' nothin'--dead. 
And it ain't only 'im--there's a mother at 'ome, 
      And 'e were the pride of 'er life. 
For it's women as pays in a thousand ways 
      For the madness o' this 'ere strife. 
And the lovin' God 'E looks down on it all, 
      On the blood and the mud and the smell. 
O God, if it's true, 'ow I pities you, 
      For ye must be livin' i' 'ell. 
You must be livin' i' 'ell all day, 
      And livin' i' 'ell all night. 
I'd rather be dead, wiv a 'ole through my 'ead, 
      I would, by a damn long sight, 
Than be livin' wi' you on your 'eavenly throne, 
      Lookin' down on yon bloody 'cap 
That were once a boy full o' life and joy, 
      And 'earin' 'is mother weep. 
The sorrows o' God must be 'ard to bear 
      If 'E really 'as Love in 'Is 'eart, 
And the 'ardest part i' the world to play 
      Must surely be God's part. 
And I wonder if that's what it really means, 
      That Figure what 'angs on the Cross. 
I remember I seed one t'other day 
      As I stood wi' the captain's 'oss.
- 133 -
I remember, I thinks, thinks I to mysel', 
      It's a long time since 'E died, 
Yet the world don't seem much better to-day 
      Then when 'E were crucified. 
It's allus the same, as it seems to me, 
      The weakest must go to the wall, 
And whether e's right, or whether e's wrong, 
      It don't seem to matter at all. 
The better ye are and the 'arder it is, 
      The 'arder ye 'ave to fight, 
It's a cruel 'ard world for any bloke 
      What does the thing as is right. 
And that's 'ow 'E came to be crucified, 
      For that's what 'E tried to do. 
'E were allus a-tryin' to do 'Is best 
      For the likes o' me and you. 
Well, what if 'E came to the earth to-day, 
      Came walkin' about this trench, 
'Ow 'Is 'eart would bleed for the sights 'E seed, 
      I' the mud and the blood and the stench. 
And I guess it would finish 'Im up for good 
      When 'E came to this old sap end, 
And 'E seed that bundle o' nothin' there, 
      For 'E wept at the grave uv 'Is friend. 
And they say 'E were just the image o' God. 
      I wonder if God sheds tears, 
I wonder if God can be sorrowin' still, 
      And 'as been all these years. 
I wonder if that's what it really means, 
      Not only that 'E once died, 
Not only that 'E came once to the earth 
      And wept and were crucified? 
Not just that 'E suffered once for all 
      To save us from our sins, 
And then went up to 'Is throne on 'igh 
      To wait till 'Is 'eaven begins.
- 134 -
But what if 'E came to the earth to show, 
      By the paths o' pain that 'E trod, 
The blistering flame of eternal shame 
      That burns in the heart o' God? 
O God, if that's 'ow it really is, 
      Why, bless ye, I understands, 
And I feels for you wi' your thorn-crowned 'ead 
      And your ever pierced 'ands. 
But why don't ye bust the show to bits, 
      And force us to do your will? 
Why ever should God be suffering so 
      And man be sinning still? 
Why don't ye make your voice ring out, 
      And drown these cursed guns? 
Why don't ye stand with an outstretched 'and, 
      Out there 'twixt us and the 'Uns? 
Why don't ye force us to end the war 
      And fix up a lasting peace? 
Why don't ye will that the world be still 
      And wars for ever cease? 
That's what I'd do, if I was you, 
      And I had a lot o' sons 
What squabbled and fought and spoilt their 'ome, 
      Same as us boys and the 'Uns. 
And yet, I remember, a lad o' mine, 
      'E's fightin' now on the sea, 
And 'e were a thorn in 'is mother's side, 
      And the plague o' my life to me. 
Lord, 'ow I used to swish that lad 
      Till 'e fairly yelped wi' pain, 
But fast as I thrashed one devil out 
      Another popped in again. 
And at last, when 'e grew up a strappin' lad, 
      'E ups and 'e says to me, 
"My will's my own and my life's my own, 
      And I'm goin', Dad, to sea."
- 135 -
And 'e went, for I 'adn't broke 'is will, 
      Though God knows 'ow I tried, 
And 'e never set eyes on my face again 
      Till the day as 'is mother died. 
Well, maybe that's 'ow it is wi' God, 
      'Is sons 'ave got to be free; 
Their wills are their own, and their lives their own, 
      And that's 'ow it 'as to be. 
So the Father God goes sorrowing still 
      For 'Is world what 'as gone to sea, 
But 'E runs up a light on Calvary's 'eight 
      That beckons to you and me. 
The beacon light of the sorrow of God 
      'As been shinin' down the years, 
A-flashin' its light through the darkest night 
      O' our 'uman blood and tears. 
There's a sight o' things what I thought was strange, 
      As I'm just beginnin' to see 
"Inasmuch as ye did it to one of these 
      Ye 'ave done it unto Me." 
So it isn't just only the crown o' thorns 
      What 'as pierced and torn God's 'ead; 
'E knows the feel uv a bullet, too, 
      And 'E's 'ad 'Is touch o' the lead. 
And 'E's standin' wi' me in this 'ere sap, 
      And the corporal stands wiv 'Im, 
And the eyes of the laddie is shinin' bright, 
      But the eyes of the Christ burn dim. 
O' laddie, I thought as ye'd done for me 
      And broke my 'eart wi' your pain. 
I thought as ye'd taught me that God were dead, 
      But ye've brought 'Im to life again. 
And ye've taught me more of what God is 
      Than I ever thought to know, 
For I never thought 'E could come so close 
      Or that I could love 'Im so.
- 136 -
For the voice of the Lord, as I 'ears it now, 
      Is the voice of my pals what bled, 
And the call of my country's God to me 
      Is the call of my country's dead.

(For those who would prefer a less Cockney English version of the poem, go here. For more of Kennedy's poetry, go here.)

On suffering

2011-02-22T08:00:00.000-05:00

There is nothing more important for a person to learn—and no lesson suffering is more suited to teach him—than his own nothingness. Suffering does not make us stronger, but neither does it sap our strength until we are ready to find convenient consolation in God. Rather, suffering reveals that we have been weak all along, that our strength is an illusion and our sense of permanence and invulnerability has always been a façade. Suffering shows us that we are powerless to secure what we are most eager to possess, that everything the world has given can be swept away in the blink of an eye.
—Timothy Dalrymple, in Hope for Hitchens?: Finding the Way in the Land of Malady at Patheos.

Triptych

2011-02-14T09:00:00.004-05:00

I am an admirer of the triptych. A work of art (usually a painting, etching or bas relief sculpture), I appreciate it for its flexibility. It consists of three separate works, presented as a whole. They may be unrelated to one another (although that is hard to do well), related in some thematic way (color, shape, size, subject), or even contiguous works (a panorama, or a progression of some sort).
An example of the latter which recently wowed me was Monet's Water Lilies, which I saw at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. A panorama, it measures an astounding 6' 6 3/4" x 41' 10 3/8".

(click to enlarge).

What is most moving about Monet's Water Lilies is this scale. Most paintings illustrate large objects (a landscape, a building) in a much smaller frame of reference. Here Monet has done the opposite: he has made a common pond much, much larger than life. Unlike real life, we must look up—and step back—to see it.
I think this is true, too, of the triptych that is God. He is three distinct parts, but together He forms the panorama of grace. And we must look up—and step back—to even begin to grasp Him. However, it seems we cannot back up far enough. The canvas is infinite in all directions.
And most impressive of all, He painted it himself.
—Wayne S.

Pat Conroy on Writing, Reading and Story

2011-02-09T09:00:00.001-05:00

"Safety is a crime writers should never commit unless they are after tenure or praise. A novelist must wrestle with all mysteries and strangeness of life itself, and anyone who does not wish to accept that grand, bone-chilling commission should write book reviews, editorials, or health-insurance policies instead. The idea of a novel should stir your blood, and you should rise to it like a lion lifting up at the smell of impala. It should be instinctual, incurable, unanswerable, and a calling, not a choice."

"My mother promised that reading would make me smart, and I found myself recruited in Mom’s battle over her own lack of a higher education. She distributed books to me as though they were communion wafers or the tongues of fire that lit up the souls of the disciples with Pentecostal clairvoyance. Mom would point her finger to a wall of books and tell me she was showing me the way out of a shame that was unutterable. I took whatever book she put into my hand and made it part of me. I made it the life of me, the essence of my own tree of knowledge. With each book, I built a city out of what my heart loved, my soul yearned for, and my eyes desired."

"The most powerful words in English are 'tell me a story,' words that are intimately related to the complexity of history, the origins of language, the continuity of the species, the taproot of our humanity, our singularity, and art itself."
—from My Reading Life, by Pat Conroy

Prayer

2011-02-06T09:00:00.001-05:00

You have

wisdom and knowledge

that is beyond

our ability,

insight and understanding

beyond our grasp,

love and mercy

greater than our possibility

of even refusing it.

You see far

into a future

that will outlast us all.

So we cannot ask

what You are doing.

Nor would it do

any good, really,

to ask why,

or what if... .

All we can say, really... is

please.

My Writing Bucket List

2011-02-03T09:00:00.004-05:00

Writers of the world, if you’ve got a story, I want to hear it. I promise it will follow me to my last breath. My soul will dance with pleasure, and it’ll change the quality of all my waking hours. You will hearten me and brace me up for the hard days as they enter my life on the prowl. I reach for a story to save my own life. Always. It clears the way for me and makes me resistant to all the false promises signified by the ring of power. In every great story, I encounter a head-on collision with self and imagination. --Pat Conroy, My Reading Life.

   Thanks, Pat. I will do my best. Although I don't think it will be a novel.
   That was (and still mostly is) always my wish. Much of that desire I do owe to Mr. Conroy, whose novels always inspire me, despite his being, in his own words, "showy with adjectives" and "overreliant on adverbs." Though I sometimes feel his lengthy and florid novels are death by a thousand paper cuts, it is nevertheless a sweet death. I can appreciate them all the more because I have been trying to write a novel for over six years. I have close to 80,000 words towards a story that is going nowhere currently, even in my mind. My characters are thoroughly unruly and disobedient, and the story arc has bent so tight I fear that like an overtorqued steel spring it may break and kill me.
   So, I have decided to look at other venues for writing. I have crafted a bucket list of writing goals I want to accomplish before I die (or my novel slays my ambition). My goal in each case is to have them published in some reputable (and perhaps even financially renumerative) fashion. Here they are:

   1. Write a short story. I do believe I can write a 5,000 to 10,000 word story that would be worth reading, although a shorter one would be harder. In fact, I like the notion of a story collection, where all the stories have a connection, probably implicit (five people who picked up a pack of hotel matches in 1968 Scottsdale, Arizona, for example).

   2. Publish a poem. It is true that "prose is words in their best order, poetry is the best words in the best order." While Eliot's The Wasteland doesn't bring to mind economy, it most certainly is. Of all the written arts, poetry comes closest to both painting and music, where in both you can be as realistic or as impressionist as you dare. Poetry slams sometimes have the same effect as strolling through a museum. Reading poetry aloud is just like listening to live music—there is joy in the silence between notes, and the decaying echo from the back wall. My poetry (two examples here and here) tends to be on the realistic side, but who knows? I would love to see my words in The Atlantic, or The New Yorker, but I must realistically think more towards regional poetry magazines and reviews.

   3.Publish an essay. I love researching. I love interviewing. I simply love observing. Put those three passions to pen and paper and I think an essay would probably be my best shot for my first publication. I have in mind a story from my home town about a supposedly true story of a grave that may, or may not, contain the person named on the tombstone. It's full of politics, family love and hillbilly justice.

   4. Write a song. In my late teens and early twenties I played guitar constantly, and wrote a few songs that I would perform at weddings or just for friends. I still remember a couple of them, and they were decent enough. And while I am becoming accustomed again to the guitar after a three decade estrangement, I think I could write a meaningful, appealing lyric and place it in a competent piece of music. My personal tastes lean towards singer-songwriters, like James Taylor and Jackson Browne, or contemporary songsmiths such as Pierce Pettis, Jason Mraz or Patty Griffin. I fear some of my production may even fall into the "country" category, but it's a hot market. I prefer the term "Americana," the songs of people and places and hopes and dreams. If I can ship off two or three songs a year to publishers, maybe one will find an ear.

   5. Write a screenplay. This fascinates me. And the only thing that encourages me in this venture is that I have seen many TV episodes and movies where I have been able to anticipate the next line, or the next scene, with uncanny accuracy. And there are times when I have obviously had an idea that I am sure would have worked better that what ended up in the script. I would probably feel most comfortable with drama; maybe some short morality tale, that ties up in the end with a few threads still loose.

   6. Write a novel. Again, it's a wish more than an obsession at present. I feel like the fellow who has sketched his dream home on the back of a napkin, and who knows how to use a hammer and a saw. The rest seems daunting to me.

   7. Write my obituary. I can almost assure myself that this might actually find itself published, if there are any local newspapers left.

In Vino Veritas, redux.

2011-01-13T10:26:00.004-05:00

On August 15 of last year, I wrote about a visit to a old high-school friend who has a vineyard and bottles wine near Crossville, Tennessee. I was fascinated by the process of making wine and, although the descriptions and processes came fast and were clouded by my almost constant enjoyment of the finished product, I wanted to write about it.

My friend, Tim, recently got high-speed internet (he lives waaaay out on the Cumberland Plateau, not near any cable or DSL service). Finally able to load large sites in less than a half-hour, he checked out Words of Wayne and my comments on my visit to his home. Being the consummate professional in all things wine-related, he felt he should correct some of my previous comments. I am passing some of his email comments along to redeem myself and further show his pride of work. My original comments are in italics.

I did not know that red wine gets its color from those seeds and skin, since all grape juice is white. Most red grapes have white juice so the red wine produced from these grapes extracts its color from the skins. However there are some red grapes that also have red juice. The Marquette I have in the vineyard is an example of that. It would make a rose’ colored wine if fermented off of the skins, but fermenting on the skins gives the wine a much deeper color and extracts many goodies like tannins that give the wine a bigger body.

Then it is strained and put into oaken casks, where it ages. My red wines are in barrels, not casks. Casks are much larger than traditional wine barrels.

Tim is a winemaker, and a vintner. A vintner is a winemaker.

And every one of his wines has won awards—many firsts, many blue ribbons. The only prize to elude him is Best of Show. But it is only a matter of time. I have received three Best of Shows for my wines. Two in the Florida International Competition and one here in Tennessee. The one that has eluded me is the Indiana (Indy) International Amateur Wine Competition. Wines are scored on their on merits such as clarity, aroma, taste, mouth feel, varietal character, etc. You can make a great wine that scores very high, receiving a gold medal from all judges (usually five), as can several other competitors. The Best of Show compares all the best to determine the best of the best. So since Indy is the largest amateur competition (outside of CA) it is the most competitive and the most coveted of the awards. Regarding California: all the competitions out there only seem to be open to CA residents. Snobby bastards!

White grapes are pressed immediately and the juice is left to ferment in large bins. Red grapes are crushed along with their seeds, skin and stems, and go through primary fermentation as a mush. The concoction of juice, seeds, and skins during fermentation is “mushy” but it is referred to as “must.” This is made in reference to the grapes from the time they are crushed until they are pressed, separating the liquid from the solids. For a white wine this is usually a matter of hours and for a red, it could be weeks depending on the desires of the winemaker.

Tim continues with these general comments:

Reading books on grape growing over the last several years has been interesting, as it seems they all are about the way things are done in the great wine regions of the world. Well, TN is not one of those regions. I was told long ago by a TN grape grower that you need to take it all with a grain of salt. The books all seemed to indicate that the fruit flowers should be cut from the vine until the 4th season when you would allow your first crop to mature. Here in TN (and probably most of the US) we allow the crop to mature in the 3rd season. What I have found on my own, that I had never read, was the importance of the training in the second season. I didn’t do a very good job in 2010 with the vines planted the previous year so I will pay for it in 2011.

I am truly looking forward to the upcoming season as every year I get a little smarter and a little more familiar with what it is that I am supposed to do. 2011 will bring fruit from the entire vineyard, and the varietals I have coming in for the first time have got me excited about the potential for some really good wine… Lord willing. I have left about 6-8 weeks before I need to start pruning. At that point my days will be centered on producing some award winning wines.

Thanks, Tim, for the clarifications. Like a great cookbook, just reading about it makes my mouth water. See you soon!

—W. S.

Kin-tsugi

2011-01-13T07:00:00.005-05:00

KIN-TSUGI is a Japanese word which means, in literal English translation, "golden joinery." It refers to the craft of repairing broken pottery with a compound of ki-urushi (raw lacquer) and pure gold powder. The result, while obviously highlighting the former damage, is always unique, and almost always beautiful. Blake Gopnik explains the history of the craft in a Washington Post article:

The story of kintsugi may have begun in the late 15th century, when the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a damaged Chinese tea bowl back to China to be fixed. It returned held together with ugly metal staples, launching Japanese craftsmen on a quest for a new form of repair that could make a broken piece look as good as new, or better. Japanese collectors developed such a taste for kintsugi that some were accused of deliberately breaking prized ceramics, just to have them mended in gold.

How fascinating that it is considered art—and indeed beautiful, desired art—to repair something in such a way that the repair is what draws the eye. This is so unlike our way of thinking (my mind turns to Mr. Bean's "repair" of Whistler's Mother). We want our repairs, be they rhinoplasty or fender work, to appear as if nothing has been changed or damaged.
Yet could there be value in our scars? I love the way Leonard Cohen put it:

Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh. It is easy to display a wound, the proud scars of combat.

Jesus was not ashamed of His scars, freely extending His hands to the disciple who doubted He had risen from the dead. I should be willing to show my scars as well. They do not tell anyone anything they wouldn't or shouldn't know. They tell others I am a flawed, broken individual. Yet I have been—and am being—repaired. And my scars are glorious.
—W.S.

A Blue Blazer, Conrad Aiken and Death

2010-10-05T15:26:00.000-04:00

   Last week, I attended a funeral. She was a long-time friend and colleague of my wife, whom I had only met once or twice, long ago. After I parked the car in the long queue that would follow the family to the gravesite, I slipped on my blue blazer. I felt something inside the right vest pocket. Pulling it out, I discovered that it was a program for another funeral, that of the father of a friend, which had occurred eleven months ago.
   Two things struck me: One, it seems the only time I dress up these days is to go to a funeral. Or, at best, funerals are the only occasion to which I wear my navy blue blazer. And secondly, funerals are the occasion where we bid goodbye to loved ones (or support those who do). And while they are full of sorrow, much effort is made to make these goodbyes full of hope as well. The loved one is, after all, going to a "better place," no?
   That is the crux of human faith: that there exists, unseen, a better world. And better all around: according to the book about it, there will be no pain, no tears, and no more death.
   Part of me agrees with Conrad Aiken. The southern poet is buried in my favorite cemetery, Bonaventure, near Savannah, Georgia. His tombstone is a bench, and on it is inscribed a notice he saw in the shipping pages of the Savannah paper. There, among the notices of ships arriving and departing, was this cryptic notice:

Cosmos Mariner

Destination Unknown

(click photo to enlarge)

The poet in me loves that. The mystic in me agrees as well. While I am well aware of the promises of God to his children about the world to come, nevertheless I realize I do not—indeed cannot—begin to imagine what it will be like. My wife's friend knows. And my friend's father knows.
And one day, so will I.
—Wayne S.
(photo credit)

A Hucksterish Choice?

2010-09-03T16:21:00.007-04:00

As many of you know, commentator, essayist and noted atheist Christopher Hitchens is battling a vigorous case of esophageal cancer. He recently wrote in Vanity Fair about all the Christians (and those of other faiths) who are praying for him. It is a must-read article. Hitchens asks some very interesting questions: To those who say the cancer is his punishment for speaking out against faith, he notes, "Almost all men get cancer of the prostate if they live long enough: it’s an undignified thing but quite evenly distributed among saints and sinners, believers and unbelievers. If you maintain that god awards the appropriate cancers, you must also account for the numbers of infants who contract leukemia."
One of the most interesting things he says is to those who are praying for his salvation. He thanks them, but tells them don't expect a last minute grasp at eternity:

"Suppose I ditch the principles I have held for a lifetime, in the hope of gaining favor at the last minute? I hope and trust that no serious person would be at all impressed by such a hucksterish choice."

Impressed? No. But we are convinced it is possible, if unlikely.

Many people, smart people like Mr. Hitchens, believe that God somehow operates with the same sense of fairness in which we operate. Therefore, they conclude that it somehow just isn't possible (or fair) that person A can live his life obediently, perhaps painfully, seeking to follow and please God, while person B, in the words of some clever wit, goes to the grave "skidding in sideways, Chardonnay in one hand, chocolate in the other," and expects the same consideration, and indeed the same destination, just because at the last minute they believed.

   But God doesn't use that metric. In some sort of divine calculus that really doesn't seem to add up to us, God is less concerned with when we believe, but that we believe. How else could you explain the thief on the cross being promised Paradise?
   William Camden, an English historian in Shakespeare's day, wrote in Remains (1623) of a dissolute man who died when he fell from his horse:

   My friend, judge not me,

Thou seest I judge not thee;

Betwixt the stirrop and the ground,

Mercy I askt, mercy I found.

Perhaps Mr. Hitchens thinks that is a bridge too far. I will still pray for him. And I easily believe, in his case, that one day he may enter eternity with God, "skidding in sideways, Johnny Walker Black in one hand, a Rothmans cigarette in the other... ."

He says if word ever gets out that, in some sort of delirium, he calls upon God to save him, we should not believe a word of it. How curious that, of all he has said that he wants us to believe, that would be suspect.

God be with you, Christopher Hitchens.

—Wayne S.

One of the Only

2010-08-25T04:57:00.000-04:00

Word confusion on the cover of Parade Magazine.

   It's the cover story; an article about Natalie Randolph, the football coach at Coolidge High School in Washington, D. C. The article is assumed to be of interest to Parade readers because there aren't a lot of female football coaches. And it is an interesting article, and Coach Randolph is quite a person.
   But I couldn't help but get tickled at the subhead on the cover. After the heading, "A League of Her Own," the subhead reads "At Coolidge High School in Washington, D.C., Natalie Randolph is making history—as one of the nation's only female football coaches."
   Read it again. According to the editor of this edition, Coach Randolph stands out not because she is female, but she is an only female football coach. This is to be contrasted with what I assume are partially female, or even mostly female coaches, which evidently are more numerous, or at least less unusual.
   Of course, the correct description (which is used in the inside article) is "one of the nation's few female football coaches." It's comforting to know that even the big boys (or girls) miss one every now and then.
—Wayne S.

Well, if you put it THAT way

2010-08-23T07:00:00.003-04:00

My favorite atheist, Christopher Hitchens, is extremely confident in his atheism. Would that I were so confident in my theism! He does pose some interesting questions, such as this:

Would we have adopted monotheism in the first place if we had known:

That our species is at most 200,000 years old, and very nearly joined the 98.9 percent of all other species on our planet by becoming extinct, in Africa, 60,000 years ago, when our numbers seemingly fell below 2,000 before we embarked on our true "exodus" from the savannah?

That the universe, originally discovered by Edwin Hubble to be expanding away from itself in a flash of red light, is now known to be expanding away from itself even more rapidly, so that soon even the evidence of the original "big bang" will be unobservable?

That the Andromeda galaxy is on a direct collision course with our own, the ominous but beautiful premonition of which can already be seen with a naked eye in the night sky?

These are very recent examples, post-Darwinian and post-Einsteinian, and they make pathetic nonsense of any idea that our presence on this planet, let alone in this of so many billion galaxies, is part of a plan. Which design, or designer, made so sure that absolutely nothing (see above) will come out of our fragile current "something"? What plan, or planner, determined that millions of humans would die without even a grave marker, for our first 200,000 years of struggling and desperate existence, and that there would only then at last be a "revelation" to save us, about 3,000 years ago, but disclosed only to gaping peasants in remote and violent and illiterate areas of the Middle East?

   Well done, sir! The only answer I can think of, and I know it will not satisfy, is this: That the invitation to a spiritual life with and in the God of this chaotic universe is available as a limited-time offer. It is not intrinsically unfair that at some point something new is offered to those who may have been hitherto unable to acquire it. The issue is not what of the millions who came before, but what of Christopher and Wayne. One perceives a blessing, the other does not.
   For now, we have both made our choices.
—Wayne S.
   Quotation is from the Big Questions Essay Series at www.templeton.org.

In Vino Veritas

2010-08-15T18:51:00.002-04:00

"When I find someone I respect writing about an edgy, nervous wine that dithered in the glass, I cringe. When I hear someone I don't respect talking about an austere, unforgiving wine, I turn a bit austere and unforgiving myself. When I come across stuff like that and remember about the figs and bananas, I want to snigger uneasily. You can call a wine red, and dry, and strong, and pleasant. After that, watch out... ." —Kingsley Amis, Everyday Drinking

It will be easier for me to write about wine, since I neither know enough about it, nor have the vocabulary, to be pretentious. But I know a bit more about it that I used to.

Recently, I had the opportunity to reconnect with my best friend from my sophomore and junior year of high school. It was only two years, but the friendship was held fast by a common love of music, and especially guitars.

We were pleased to find ourselves easing into our relationship as if the 38 intervening years were but a few. We even did some songs together (he plays piano now, and I cannot hit the high notes that were so easy in the day).

Tim is a winemaker, and a vintner. Two years ago, he retired from thirty-seven years with the U.S. Navy, both active duty and civilian. He built a house on some old family land near Crossville, Tennessee (and far from cell service). There he planted a vineyard.

While the vineyard is his first, he has been making wine for several years. And every one of his wines has won awards—many firsts, many blue ribbons. The only prize to elude him is Best of Show. But it is only a matter of time.

Spending nearly two days with him, I drank more wine than I ever have in so short a span (five bottles between us), ate like a king (he cooks like Emeril) and learned a little about winemaking.

Malcolm Dunn, a gardener to royalty, once said grapes are "the most noble and challenging of fruits." A vintner/winemaker is a person of many talents. He is of course a gardener. And a very patient one. Most vines spend two years of growing and pruning before they are ready to bear wine-worthy fruit. Then they are trained to hang uncrowded and orderly on the trellises. As the fruit matures in the late summer or early fall, the vintner becomes a chemist, frequently checking the acidity, pH and sugar content of the grapes. Once the numbers line up, the grape clusters are cut off the vine (the one act that takes very little time). White grapes are pressed immediately and the juice is left to ferment in large bins. Red grapes are crushed along with their seeds, skin and stems, and go through primary fermentation as a mush. Then it is strained and put into oaken casks, where it ages. I did not know that red wine gets its color from those seeds and skin, since all grape juice is white.

Seeing the process first-hand, passages such as John 15 come alive:

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."

It is Tim's careful tending that makes the difference between a fruitful vineyard and a field full of weeds. So it is with me—it is God's faithful, meticulous caring and pruning that makes my life fruitful, and a testimony to the Master Vintner.

The Romans had a saying: In Vino Veritas. In wine, there is truth.

Indeed.
[UPDATE-01/03/11]: My friend Tim recently got high-speed internet (I told you it was waaaay out in the sticks), and as such, looked at Words of Wayne for the first time. After reading the above post he wrote with some comments and corrections, which I am posting in a separate post on this day—1/3/11. I do so because it points out the incorrect info was my fault (and the five bottles of wine, of course). And it's fascinating.

International Left-Handers Day

2010-08-13T17:27:00.000-04:00

A friend wrote today to wish me Happy International Left-Handers Day. I had no idea such a holiday existed. We beleaguered lefties need it.

   I am old enough to remember when left-handedness was thought to be "correctable" and schools would discourage it. Obviously, I was not a compliant student.
   Left-handedness, for me at least, has always been a bit of an impediment. Aside from the lack of left-handed appurtenances, such as desks, scissors and the like, I have pretty much adapted myself to a right-handed world. I play guitar right-handed (alas, could I have been another Hendrix?), golf (putt-putt only) shoot a rifle and bat also with my recessive hand.
   I believe the reason why most left-handers (at least from my generation, the Boomers) have such atrocious handwriting is this: In school, we were always having to write around the pesky rings in a three-ring notebook, and we were always having to be sure we didn't smear the ink or smudge the pencil of what we just wrote— whereas right-handers always led what they were writing, the heel of our palm always trailed our work.
   Interestingly, four of the last five presidents have been left-handed: Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. Evidently, nothing can be gleaned from that factoid, other than it is outside the norm.
   Left-handedness is most desired in the arena of sports, since most pitchers, hitters, quarterbacks and basketball and hockey forwards are right-handed.
  I am glad I am left-handed, as is my eldest son (left-handedness is genetic, rather than learned). But I am not sure what it gets me, other than another day to celebrate.
— Wayne S.

Can a person without faith be healed?

2010-08-07T16:27:00.001-04:00

This question came up in a weekly reading group I attend. (I call it that, although the only book we read is the Bible. But that's all we do—read a chapter and then comment on it. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, but although we have a diverse group of young and old Christians, Orthodox and Messianic Jews, and the occasional seeker or unbeliever, the comments are uniformly rich, encouraging and challenging. Must be God or something.)
The general consensus was that yes, a person without faith can be healed. Among the reasons cited:

God is God. He can do whatever he pleases. He is not a God of formula.

Often it is only the faith of others, not the ill person, which precedes healing.

People have been healed who were comatose or dead. (See Luke 8)

The same question was revived in real-time this week when Christopher Hitchens, my favorite atheist, was interviewed by Jeffrey Goldberg of the Atlantic. Hitchens, the author of God Is Not Great, was recently diagnosed with esophageal cancer. When Goldberg asked him if he were insulted by people praying for him, Hitchens, in typical wry humor, replied:

"No, no, I take it kindly, on the assumption that they are praying for my recovery."

Hitchens makes it clear that such a result will not sway his unbelief. If gratitude were a requirement for healing, Hitchens might have a point. Yet in Luke 17, when ten lepers were healed, only one came back to say thanks. And we know that, every day, hundreds of things come into our lives which should make us grateful, but we fail to even see them.
But I will be praying for him. He sees it as late in his story. But perhaps it is finally just beginning.

Language as music

2010-07-12T07:00:00.001-04:00

"In his entirely personal experience of them, English was jazz music, German was classical music, French was ecclesiastical music, and Spanish was the music of the streets. Which is to say, stab his heart and it would bleed French, slice his brain open and its convolutions would be lined with English and German, and touch his hands and they would feel Spanish."
—Yann Martel in Beatrice and Virgil

Google Sky Map, Copernicus, Galileo and Grace

2010-07-08T07:00:00.013-04:00

While recently foraging about for apps for my new Android phone, I came across Google's Sky Map. This fascinating application allows you to point your phone at a star in the sky and, using GPS data and an internal compass, it will label the star or constellation. Fascinating.
But it got me thinking. What Sky Map does is create a virtual "dome" above you, and like a planetarium projector, it will produce a representation of the sky on that "dome." This is a very pre-Copernican way of looking at the sky.

   Nicolaus Copernicus (1473-1543), as many of us know, was the Renaissance astronomer who first posited that the earth was not the center of the cosmos. He held off publishing this finding until months before his death, fearing both scientific and religious criticism. But the religious criticism was six decades in coming (reason: no Kindle), and it arrived with a vengeance due to the efforts of another smart fellow, Galileo Galilei, and his new and improved telescope, which allowed him to verify many of Copernicus's findings. It was Galileo who suffered for his integrity, found a heretic and confined to house arrest from 1634 until 1642, when he died at age 77.
   What does all of this interesting history have to do with grace? Perhaps this: it is very, very difficult for non-believers (and more than a few believers) to understand grace. And much of it has to do with pre-Copernican thinking. It seems more logical, more personal, and more comforting to understand our relationship with God as revolving around us. The main reason this is so is this is where we are. We see the world from our perspective, not any other. The night sky will look different when viewed from Jupiter, but we will never see it.
   Many people (maybe most) believe that what you do and what you are will make all the difference in how God accepts you. Blessings, heaven, health, all the good things, are the result of a zero-sum game: if you are more good than bad, you will get more good things than bad things. This is the spiritual equivalent of thinking the heavens revolve around the earth. It is old thinking. But again, it is easy to think this way, because this is our default viewpoint, and we are often too lazy or thoughtless to consider another.
   Grace teaches us that the spiritual universe revolves around God, that it is His pleasure and plan to allow us to play, plan and work (and even mess up) in his infinite creation. He has chosen us to be a part of it all. And it has nothing to do with our worthiness or goodness. It has everything to do with His goodness.
   Really, which would you rather have? A static spiritual world where everything revolves around you, yet is always tantalizingly just out of reach, and where your ability to move is severely limited? Or a dynamic world that is spinning at 1040 miles an hour on its own axis, while spinning around the sun at 18.5 miles a second, in a solar system whirling through space at 185 miles a second? A world where you're a valued, loved and needed part of it all. It's enough to make you dizzy.
   That's what grace is like.
   And those of us who have made this discovery should tell about it. We may be skittish, like Copernicus. We may be roughed up a bit (even by the church!), like Galileo.
   But we will be right, like them both.
—Wayne S.

Bonhoeffer on a true leader

2010-07-05T07:00:00.005-04:00

The following is an excerpt from twenty-six year old theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer's radio address, delivered on February 1, 1933, two days after Adolph Hitler had been elected Chancellor of Germany:

If he understands his function in any other way than as it is rooted in fact, if he does not continually tell his followers quite clearly of the nature of his task and of their own responsibility, if he allows himself to surrender to the wishes of his followers, who would always make him their idol--then the image of the Leader will pass over into the image of the mis-leader, and he will be acting in a criminal way not only towards those he leads, but also towards himself. The true Leader must always be able to disillusion. It is just this that is his responsibility and his real object. He must lead his following away from the authority of his person to the recognition of the real authority of orders and offices.... He must radically refuse to become the appeal, the idol, i.e. the ultimate authority of those whom he leads.... He serves the order of the state, of the community, and his service can be of incomparable value. But only so long as he keeps strictly in his place.... [H]e has to lead the individual into his own maturity.... Now a feature of man's maturity is responsibility towards other people, towards existing orders. He must let himself be controlled, ordered, restricted.

Of course, Adolph Hitler had no intention of allowing himself to be "controlled, ordered, restricted." Yet in reading this, I am reminded of a current leader, one who had allowed himself to become "the idol," and who seems to have little fascination with leading people away from his authority back to the authority of the Constitution [Bonhoeffer's orders] and the people. Thankfully, I do not fear for one second this current leader will kill millions. But his bald attempts to build a "thousand year reign" of entitlements and debt may end up with the nation impoverished and defeated. Again, from the same address:

Only when a man sees that office is a penultimate authority in the face of an ultimate, indescribable authority, in the face of the authority of God, has the real situation been reached.... And this solitude of man's position before God, this subjection to an ultimate authority, is destroyed when the the authority of the Leader or of the office is seen as ultimate authority.... Alone before God, man becomes what he is, free and committed to responsibility at the same time.

The current leader professes to be a follower of Christ, yet not in an orthodox, Biblical way. It is interesting that, the same day as Bonhoeffer's address, Chancellor Hitler also took to the airwaves, offering this appeal "to the God he did not believe in":

May God Almighty take our work into his grace, give true form to our will, bless our insight, and endow us with the trust of our Volk!

--Wayne S.
(All quotations are from the book Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas.)

Fiction, Nonfiction and Truth

2010-07-02T07:00:00.002-04:00

Fiction and nonfiction are not so easily divided, Fiction may not be real, but it's true; it goes beyond the garland of facts to get to emotional and psychological truths. As for nonfiction, for history, it may be real, but its truth is slippery, hard to access, with no fixed meaning bolted to it. If history doesn't become story, it dies to everyone except the historian. Art is the suitcase of history, carrying the essentials. Art is the life buoy of history. Art is seed, art is memory, art is vaccine.
—Yann Martel, in Beatrice and Virgil

Bonhoeffer on seeing people as they are

2010-06-30T07:00:00.004-04:00

Every day I am getting to know people, at any rate their circumstances, and sometimes one is able to see through their stories into themselves—and at the same time one thing continues to impress me: here I meet people as they are, far from the masquerade of "the Christian world", people with passions, criminal types, small people with small aims, small wages and small sins—all in all they are people who feel homeless in both senses, and who begin to thaw when one speaks to them with kindness—real people; I can only say that I have gained the impression that it is just these people who are much more under grace than under wrath, and that it is the Christian world that is more under wrath than grace.
—Dietrich Bonhoeffer, quoted in Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas

Penn Jilette on Christians

2010-06-28T07:00:00.000-04:00

Penn Jillette and Teller (that's it, no given name) make up the comedy duo Penn and Teller. They host a Showtime television show called Bullshit!, where they call out people and organizations who they feel are misleading people. As atheists, two of the most popular targets for them are the Catholic Church and Christians in general. However, they don't necessarily make it personal. In an interview with Reason.com, Jillette had this to say:

Teller and I have been brutal to Christians, and their response shows that they’re good fucking Americans who believe in freedom of speech. We attack them all the time, and we still get letters that say, “We appreciate your passion. Sincerely yours, in Christ.” Christians come to our show at the Rio and give us Bibles all the time. They’re incredibly kind to us. Sure, there are a couple of them who live in garages, give themselves titles and send out death threats to me and Bill Maher and Trey Parker. But the vast majority are polite, open-minded people, and I respect them for that.

Predicting Traffic Jams

2010-06-25T07:00:00.001-04:00

   Science and math can do a lot of things. They can predict severe thunderstorms. They can predict the likelihood of an asteroid striking the earth (not very, thank God). They can even predict who might be candidates for Altzheimers or other diseases.
   Yet one phenomenon they have yet to conquer. Or have they?
   I am writing about traffic jams. Most of us have found ourselves in stock-still traffic, and we frantically scan the radio for some sort of explanation. Moments later, it clears up, and further travel shows nothing to be amiss; no emergency vehicles or tow trucks on the side of the road.
   Wired Magazine has an article which decribes the effort of MIT scientists to minimize the number of these "phantom jams." As the article explains:

Phantom jams are born of a lot of cars using the road. No surprise there. But when traffic gets too heavy, it takes the smallest disturbance in the flow – a driver laying on the brakes, someone tailgating too closely or some moron picking pickles off his burger – to ripple through traffic and create a self-sustaining traffic jam.
...

The mathematics of such traffic jams are strikingly similar to the equations that describe detonation waves produced by explosions, said Aslan Kasimov, a lecturer in MIT’s Department of Mathematics. Realizing this allowed the reseachers to solve traffic jam equations that were first theorized in the 1950s. The MIT researchers even came up with a name for this kind of gridlock – “jamiton.” It’s a riff on “soliton,” a term used in math and physics to desribe a self-sustaining wave that maintains its shape while moving.

Yes, it's a little egghead-y, but still interesting since it is an experience many of us share. Here's a video which shows how jams happen.

For more on this topic, read the article here.

Bonhoeffer on vanity and grace

2010-06-22T07:00:00.003-04:00

On Sunday afternoon I attended an extremely festive high mass in Sacré Couer. The people in the church were almost exclusively from Montmartre; prostitutes and their men went to mass, submitted to all the ceremonies; it was an enormously impressive picture, and once again one could see quite clearly how close, precisely through their fate and guilt, these most heavily burdened people are to the heart of the gospel. I have long thought the Tauentzienstrasse [Berlin's red-light district] would be an extremely fruitful field for church work. It's much easier for me to imagine a praying murderer, a praying prostitute, than a vain person praying. Nothing is so at odds with prayer as vanity.

—Dietrich Bonhoeffer, quoted in Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, by Eric Metaxas

On Father's day

2010-06-20T07:00:00.001-04:00

Click photo to enlarge.

Gilead

2010-06-17T07:00:00.007-04:00

MOST OF WHAT WE REMEMBER of our fathers, either good or bad, is based on our experience with them—those decades spent in proximity. For John Ames, giving his son that chance will not be possible. In 1956, at the age of 77, this pastor of a small church in Gilead, Iowa finds himself facing two incongruous truths: failing health due to heart disease, and a seven-year-old son from a late marriage. So, he decides to set down his story as best he can in a long letter. A novel, Gilead, is that letter, and it is wondrous.
He tenderly tells of the young woman who came into his church one Sunday and immediately stole his heart (Not easily, mind you. His devotion to his calling was always first, especially since the death of his first wife years ago during childbirth). He refused to say anything to her, though, because of the disparity of their ages, until one day…

“I came near alarming myself with the thought of the loneliness stretching ahead of me, and the new bitterness of it, and how I hated the secretiveness and the renunciation that honor and decency required of me and that common sense enforced on me. But when I looked up, your mother was watching me, smiling a little, and she touched my hand and she said, ‘You’ll be just fine.’ . . .
“She began to come to the house when some of the other women did, to take the curtains away to wash, to defrost the icebox. And then she started coming by herself to tend the gardens. She made them very fine and prosperous. And one evening when I saw her there, out by the wonderful roses, I said, ‘How can I repay you for all this?’
“And she said, ‘You ought to marry me.’
And I did.”

   The marriage is happy for both. Yet as Ames’s health issues loom, another complication arises as the son of his best friend, who once left town in disgrace, returns to Gilead and re-inserts himself into the life of the pastor and his wife. As he watches this man in his 40s bond with his wife—herself near that age—and son, he wonders if he should tell her of what has gone before. And he wonders if it even matters.
   As older men are wont to do, Ames loves remembering the past, and tells thorough histories of his grandfather, a hellfire and damnation preacher who went to Kansas as an abolitionist and fought for the Union Army in the Civil War. His father, naturally, became a pacifist preacher who nevertheless held enough rage to nearly destroy his family. All of this becomes the lineage of a young boy who, Ames hopes, will one day read his letter.
   The book is so luminous and so alive that you simply feel you are reading the actual remembrances of a man such as John Ames, which is a testament to the talent of the writer, Marilynne Robinson. The Washington Post hails Gilead as “so serenely beautiful, and written in a prose so gravely measured and thoughtful, that one feels touched with grace just to read it.” The spiritual musings and perceptions are among the most profound I’ve read in fine literature. Through John Ames, author Robinson shows she understands both goodness and grace. In thinking about his young friend as the prodigal son, Ames describes himself thusly: “I myself was the good son, so to speak, the one who never left his father’s house. . . . I am one of those righteous for whom the rejoicing in heaven will be comparatively restrained.’’
   It is rare these days to find a good book about a good man. This is one.
Book Review by Wayne Steadham.

David Foster Wallace on Choosing the Object of Your Worship

2010-06-11T14:12:00.000-04:00

[H]ere's something else that's weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful, it's that they're unconscious. They are default settings.

They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing.
—The late David Foster Wallace, author, from a commencement speech in 2005 at Kenyon College.

Remembering Normandy, June 6, 1944

2010-06-06T14:51:00.002-04:00

Remembering the many, many men who fell in battle on this day 66 years ago. Here is a video which shows one way that remembrance was shown. The videographer explains:

While visiting the American cemetery in Normandy, a French gentleman and his friends came upon Amos, and when he realized that Amos was a WW2 veteran who fought in Normandy, the French gentleman gave Amos a letter.

Days

2010-06-03T02:14:00.002-04:00

20,455
days ago
I became the first child of John and Joyce,
the first grandchild of James and Mildred
and Croley and Hazel.

14,874
I found myself a sinner
in need of a Savior.

13,711
well over half my life
I have loved one above all others.
11,976
we started keeping house.

10,917
I became a father
(and again at 10,418, 9650 and 8424).

A mere 86 days ago
I became a grandfather.

And I count each day passed worthwhile
and the days to come
surely less than I wish
yet more than I deserve
as gifts.

So teach us to number our days,
That we may present to You a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12.

Remembering the Fallen

2010-05-31T12:08:00.001-04:00

   Memorial Day is an occasion of special importance to all Americans, because it is a day sacred to the memory of all those Americans who made the supreme sacrifice for the liberties we enjoy. We will never forget or fail to honor these heroes to whom we owe so much. We honor them best when we resolve to cherish and defend the liberties for which they gave their lives. Let us resolve to do all in our power to assure the survival and the success of liberty so that our children and their children for generations to come can live in an America in which freedom’s light continues to shine.
   The Congress, in establishing Memorial Day, called for it to be a day of tribute to America’s fallen, and also a day of national prayer for lasting peace. This Nation has always sought true peace. We seek it still. Our goal is peace in which the highest aspirations of our people, and people everywhere, are secure: peace with freedom, with justice, and with opportunity for human development. This is the permanent peace for which we pray, not only for ourselves but for all generations.
   The defense of peace, like the defense of liberty, requires more than lip service. It requires vigilance, military strength, and the willingness to take risks and to make sacrifices. The surest guarantor of both peace and liberty is our unflinching resolve to defend that which has been purchased for us by our fallen heroes.
   On Memorial Day, let us pray for peace — not only for ourselves, but for all those who seek freedom and justice.

—Ronald Reagan, 1987

(Photo courtesy of Q&O.)

"No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die!"

2010-05-25T07:00:00.002-04:00

   It's one of my favorite movie lines, from the 1964 James Bond movie Goldfinger. It resonates with me because it is so matter-of-fact. And it also has meaning because it sums up an important spiritual truth.
   So many Christians live tiresome, defeated lives because of one basic reason: they are trying to live a tireless, victorious life. Yet whether you try for a week, a year, or a lifetime, you'll never do it.
   The reason is simple, albeit easily avoidable. No one can please God all the time. Or even most of the time.
   But isn't that what God expects? Isn't the whole point of the Bible, from the Ten Commandments to the Beatitudes, that we should behave and operate in a way that will please God? Isn't that why we're punished by God sometimes for doing wrong, and rewarded for doing right? Shouldn't we, like Agent 007, be asking, "Do you expect me to always do good, to be kind to animals, read my Bible and brush my teeth?"
    The answer to that question, if properly asked of God, is as jarring and as final as Goldfinger's answer to Mr. Bond. And that's because it is the same answer:

"No, I expect you to die."

For that is the secret to living a life that pleases God. It is exchanging our soiled, pitiful life for that of the spotless, powerful Savior. It is to surrender (something Bond would never do, I agree) in order to win. As Matthew quotes Jesus:

"He who has found his life will lose it, and

he who has lost his life for My sake will find it."

So what does God expect of us? Good choices? Living right? Nope. He expects us to die. Every day. Every moment. To give all we are aware of that is ours to Him.

Why?

To please Him? No. Who is pleased by being given what they deserve?

To get into heaven? No. That ticket requires a different payment, and has already been paid anyway.

To make life easier here? No, although it should make your life more meaningful.

Allow me to offer an answer in the words of the always thoughtful C. S. Lewis:

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you know that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of--throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself!"

—Wayne S. C. S. Lewis quote is from Mere Christianity.

Love and Aloha

2010-05-23T18:41:00.001-04:00

    If I wen talk all da diffren kine languages, da peopo kine language an even da angel kine languages, but I no mo love an aloha, wat den? I ony talking rubbish kine, jalike one junk kine bell o one kalangalang cymbal.
   An if I was one talka fo God, an I wen know all kine secret stuffs an all da kine stuffs dat da smart guys know, an if I wen trus God all da way so I can even make da mountains move, but I no mo love an aloha, wat den? I worth notting, dass wat.
   If I wen sell all my stuffs an use da money fo give food to da poor peopo, an even sacrifice my body in da fire, but I no mo love an aloha, wat den? Poho, wase time!

Wen you get love an aloha, you can handle all kine pilikia an hang in dea long time. You get good heart fo help da odda peopo. You no get jealous cuz da odda guy get someting you like.

Wen you get love an aloha, you no need talk big. You no mo big head. You no ack pilau kine. You no ack like everybody gotta do everyting yoa way. You no get huhu fast.

Wen you get love an aloha, you no goin rememba all da bad kine stuff peopo wen do to you. You no feel good inside wen somebody do someting dass wrong, but you feel plenny good inside wen somebody tell da trut.

Wen you get love an aloha, you can hang in dea fo everyting an no give up eva. You always trus God bout everyting. You know everyting goin come okay bumbye. You can stand strong everytime.

Wen you get love an aloha, dat no goin pau eva. Da guys dat talk fo God, bumbye no need fo da tings dey say. Wen peopo talk diffren kine, bumbye nobody goin talk lidat. Da stuff da smart guys know, no matta, bumbye no need. You know, we ony know litto bit.

Wen we talk fo God, we get ony litto bit fo tell. Bumbye, goin come da time wen everyting stay perfeck. Dat time, no need fo da litto bit kine stuff no moa. Small kid time, I wen talk jalike one small kid. I wen tink jalike one small kid. I wen figga everyting jalike one small kid. Now, I big, dass why I no do da tings da same way da small kids do um.

Right now, us guys can see stuff, but ony jalike wit one junk mirror. Hard fo figga wat we see dea. But bumbye, goin be clear. Us guys goin see everyting jalike was right dea in front our face. Right now, I ony know litto bit. But bumbye, I goin undastan everyting, jalike God undastan everyting bout me.

So now, get three tings dat stay: we can trus God, an we can know everyting goin come out okay bumbye, an we get love an aloha. From da three tings, da love an aloha kine, dass da main ting, an da bestes way.

—from Numba 1 Fo Da Corint Peopo, in the Hawai'i Pidgin Bible. (photo by Cheryl S. Click to enlarge.)

Buechner on the Gospel

2010-05-21T07:00:00.002-04:00

   As everybody knows by now, Gospel means Good News. Ironically, it is some of the Gospel's most ardent fans who try to turn it into Bad News. For instance:
   "It all boils down to the Golden Rule. Just love thy neighbor, and that's all you have to worry about." What makes this bad news is that loving our neighbor is exactly what none of us is very good at. Most of the time, we have a hard time even loving out family and friends very effectively.
   "Jesus was a great teacher and the best example we have of how we ought to live." As a teacher, Jesus is at least matched by, for instance, Siddhartha Gautama. As an example, we can only look at Jesus and despair.
   "The Resurrection is a a poetic way of saying that the spirit of Jesus lives on as a constant inspiration to us all." If all the Resurrection means is that Jesus' spirit lives on like Abraham Lincoln's or Adolph Hitler's but that otherwise he is just as dead as anybody else who cashed in two thousand years ago, then as Saint Paul puts it, "our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain" (1 Corinthians 15:14). If the enemies of Jesus succeeded for all practical purposes in killing him permanently around A.D. 30, then like Socrates, Thomas More, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, Jr., and so on, he is simply another saintly victim of the wickedness and folly of humankind, and the cross is a symbol of ultimate defeat.
   What is both Good and New about the Good News is the wild claim that Jesus did not simply tell us that God loves us even in our wickedness and folly and wants us to love each other in the same way and to love him too, but that if we will let him, God will actually bring about this unprecedented transformation of our hearts himself.
   What is both Good and New about the Good News is the mad insistence that Jesus lives on among us not just as another haunting memory but as the outlandish, holy, and invisible power of God working not just through the sacraments (q.v.) but in countless hidden ways to make even slobs like us loving and whole beyond anything we could conceivably pull off ourselves.
   Thus the Gospel is not only Good and New but, if you take it seriously, a Holy Terror. Jesus never claimed that the process of being changed from a slob to a human being was going to be a Sunday School picnic. On the contrary. Childbirth may occasionally be painless, but rebirth never. Part of what it means to be a slob is to hang on for dear live to our slobbery.
--Frederich Buechner from Wishful Thinking, A Seeker's ABC
(Photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt, courtesy of Life Magazine. Click to enlarge).

A lone raindrop in the desert

2010-05-18T07:00:00.003-04:00

After spending a few days on the coast of Kauai, one can be forgiven for thinking that, in the battle of rock versus water, rock always wins. My wife and I witnessed countless huge waves drive fruitlessly into the ancient lava and rock shores, only to have to regroup and come again. These islands, and these rock shores, have stood for millennia (sorry, young earthers) and have yielded little.
But not always. On April 1, 1946, a tsunami raked the northern coasts of the Hawaiian Islands. The giant wave blasted a hole in the middle of a small sandstone island that sits right off La'ie Point on Oahu, leaving behind an unique sight.

(click to enlarge)

As La'ie Point proves, on occasion the water comes with such force that even stone cannot resist. Here's an interesting paragraph from the book The Lighthouse Stevensons, the story of the Scottish family of lighthouse builders, and the ancestors of author Robert Louis Stevenson:

When finally finished, long after Louis had departed for more promising places, the breakwater stood intact for four years until a spectacular storm in December 1872 destroyed the entire harbor, shifting one massive block of stone weighing 1,350 tons and folding the whole structure into the sea. Tom was devastated. In fact, his reaction was far more extreme than the incident warranted. But he had based his professional faith on studying the sea, learning its moods, its tempers, and its breaking points, and the discovery that much of his life's work was founded on a miscalculation was almost unbearable. The early studies he had made of the force of waves were based on the movements of ten- or fifteen-ton blocks, not of something that weighed as much as the whole mass of Bell Rock Lighthouse. His reaction was initially incredulous, then defensive. He published papers complaining of the force of the elements the Stevensons contended with, photographs of immense waves smashing against the harbor walls, anything that might vindicate his position. Eventually, once the disputing was over, the breakwater was rebuilt, this time with a 2,600 ton foundation block in place. In 1877 another apocalyptic storm washed it away. Tom could do nothing but turn away in disgust.

A five-million-plus pound rock moved by the force of the sea! We must all react with awe at that fact. As my favorite atheist, Christopher Hitchens, says: "Nature is boss, and she is pitiless."
If there is no God, which is Hitchens's presumption, then we must indeed, allow that Nature is supreme, at least over man. But if there is a God, which is my presumption (to be fair), then the power that spews acidic clouds into the air from Iceland (Hitchens's topic), or punches a hole into an island of rock, or tosses a multi-million pound stone like a toy, is no more than a lone raindrop falling in a vast desert.

         More than the sounds of many waters,
         Than the mighty breakers of the sea,
         The LORD on high is mighty. Psalm. 93:4.

—Wayne S.

The Stairway to Heaven

2010-05-15T06:39:00.011-04:00

During our recent visit to the island of Oahu, Hawaii, my wife and I were being squired about the island by our resident friend, Bonnie Sanders, and her two oldest children, Tabby and Corbin. After taking the H3 Interstate (yes, interstate—I have no idea) through a tunnel in one of the mountains, we popped out on the other side. While the view to the left of us was commanding (looking down onto Kaneohe Bay), my eyes were distracted by the large and precipitous mountain we had just transected. Suddenly, I saw something that seemed to defy reason.

   It was a stairway—a very narrow stairway—beginning somewhere below the roadway and angling erratically up the large face of the mountain before disappearing in the clouds.
   Our host Paul, an Army surgeon, told us later as he reviewed the video that the stairway is called the "Stairway to Heaven." First built in 1943, the stairway allowed workers to first build and then man military radio equipment on the peak. It was replaced by a metal stairway (of nearly 4,000 steps!) in the 1950s. The military installation was decommissioned in 1987, and the trail was closed. Yet the occasional intrepid hiker will attempt the summit.
   Sometimes my spiritual pilgrimage seems to resemble what a climb like this must feel like. No matter where I look, only stairs remain—either up into the mist or down into the gloom. It seems I may never reach the top, while the bottom seems to grudgingly, slowly drop away. For days I never move at all.
   But my theology tells me a different story. It says that, at the moment I realized my ability to climb was futile, and confessed as much, the Master of the mountain took me from the precarious and never-ending climb and placed me at the summit. It is still misty, and I can't really see what's there yet, but I am safe, in a different place. A different kingdom, as it were.
   So why do I sometimes wake up and think I am on the path again, trying to scale the unscalable?
   Good question.
—Wayne S.
(Click picture to enlarge. For more info, see here.)

Josh Ritter on Inspiration

2010-05-12T14:50:00.002-04:00

The monster is the invisible force that decides what you write about. Some people call it "The Muse," but I've never found that to be a particularly apt description for a creature so voracious. This is no gossamer-clad maiden. I don't know much about it, but I know that it lives deep in the synaptic jungle, its tail twitching lazily, its slow-breathing bulk heaving sulfurous sighs as it waits. You have to feed the monster everything you come across, be it books, music or movies, your friends and enemies and any other shiny baubles you find strewn in your path. You shovel everything you've got--a long-handled snow shovel works best--into its big toothy mouth, and it chews everything up and sighs once again. It never says "thank you," and you don't expect any gratitude, but once in a while the monster will taste something it really enjoys. When it does, you'll notice a slight lift of its scaly brow and a narrowing of its keyhole pupils. It doesn't give away much, but if you know your monster, that's all you need to see. —Josh Ritter, musician, in Paste Magazine, April/May 2010

In any language

2010-05-10T17:19:00.006-04:00

My wife and I just returned from 10 days in Hawaii--three on Oahu and seven on Kauai. I am resisting the temptation to show you my 700 or so photos (of which maybe 25 are very good). But I would like to tell you of two observations:

God does His best work in small places: The island of Kauai, at 552 square miles, is smaller than the metropolitan Atlanta area where I live. It is only 25 percent inhabited. Some of it is only accessible by helicopter. Yet in such a small place there is variety in geography, ethnicity, climate, altitude and flora and fauna unmatched anywhere else. Beauty and surprises await around every corner.

God loves to astound and delight His Children. One of our dear friends, who along with his wife accompanied us on the trip, made this comment: "When I see this, I can't help but think 'My Father made this.'" Amen. On the last night of our stay, we went to a luau at the next-door Hyatt resort. The Hyatt is a monument to conspicuous consumption (suites go for $4500 a night), and the luau was no exception. Liquor flowed freely, the food was mountainous in volume, and the mood was festive. That why it came as a surprise to us when the emcee announced to the crowd that, before we ate, he would like to offer a traditional Hawaiian blessing for the meal, as most Hawaiians do. What we heard, in a rich, baritone voice, quieted the crowd to silence, and lifted our hearts.

Here is a version performed by the Kamehameha Schools Children's Chorus, along with just a few pictures of my Father's work. Enjoy and be blessed. --Wayne S.

The Color of Water

2010-05-09T07:00:00.004-04:00

The Color of Water by James McBride. A book review.
   In one sense, it is a remarkable story about a mother who married two good men and raised twelve children, among them medical doctors, university professors, journalists and musicians. In another, it is a story of faith, as Ruth McBride goes on, with her husband, to co-found a Baptist church in New York. Yet it is made all the more noteworthy because Ruth was a white, Jewish woman, and both her husbands were black. In the ultimate sense, therefore, the most redemptive part of this story may be how God raised her above prejudice—Jew against gentile, white against black, black against white, even dark-skinned blacks versus light-skinned—and gave her, her twelve children, and her grandchildren a wonderful gift.
   Ruchel Dwara Zylska, the daughter of a failed itinerant Orthodox rabbi, fled her native Poland with her family in 1921 and settled in Suffolk, Virginia. Her father was a cruel man who abused his crippled wife and mistreated his daughter. Along with this harsh treatment, she and her family were ostracized in the South because they were not white, but “Jews.”
   Working long hours in her father’s mercantile store in a black community, she began to identify with the black children her age, also marginalized and discriminated against. Ruth Shilsky (her Americanized name) fled persecution once again when, at seventeen, she moved to New York. There she met Andrew Dennis McBride, a violinist from North Carolina studying music. He was a deacon and choir member at a Harlem church, where she began attending, and where something else happened:

   In 1942, Ruth said to Andrew Dennis McBride, “I want to accept Jesus Christ into my life and join the church.”
   Dennis said, “Are you sure you want to do this, Ruth? You know what this means?”
   I told him, “I’m sure.” I was totally sure.

When it became apparent that Ruth intended to marry Dennis, her Jewish family sat shiva for her, proclaiming her dead to them. From that moment on, her community was the black community of her husband and her soon-to-follow children.

The author, James McBride, tells his own story beside hers. Her vivid recollections, dictated reluctantly at first, match perfectly James’s story of growing up with “the strange, middle-aged white lady riding her ancient bicycle.” In places the story is hard (both of Ruth’s husbands die, leaving her with eight and then twelve children to raise; James faces the hurdles of inner-city gangs and drugs), and finding their way was hard for both James and Ruth. Yet it is a powerful story of God’s grace. James became
a jazz musician, journalist and author, and Ruth earned a B.A. in Social Work at age 65.
The evocative title comes from a conversation between mother and son:

[O]ne afternoon, on the way home from church, I asked her if God was black or white.
A deep sigh, “Oh boy…God’s not black. He’s not white. He’s a spirit.”
“Does he like black or white people better?”
“He loves all people. He’s a spirit.”
“What’s a spirit?”
“A spirit’s a spirit.”
“What color is God’s spirit?”

—Wayne Steadham

Christians are the best--and worse--argument for faith

2010-04-22T17:58:00.001-04:00

The best argument for Christianity is Christians: their joy, their certainty, their completeness. But the strongest argument against Christianity is also Christians--when they are sombre and joyless, when they are self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration, when they are narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand deaths. But, though it is just to condemn some Christians for these things, perhaps, after all, it is not just, though every easy, to condemn Christianity itself for them. Indeed, there are impressive indications that the positive quality of joy is in Christianity--and possibly nowhere else. If that were certain, it would be proof of a very high order.

—Sheldon VanAuken, professor, poet and writer, in Encounter with Light.

Elie Wiesel on Jerusalem

2010-04-16T23:53:00.001-04:00

   For me, the Jew that I am, Jerusalem is above politics. It is mentioned more than six hundred times in Scripture — and not a single time in the Koran. Its presence in Jewish history is overwhelming. There is no more moving prayer in Jewish history than the one expressing our yearning to return to Jerusalem. To many theologians, is IS Jewish history, to many poets, a source of inspiration. It belongs to the Jewish people and is much more than a city, it is what binds one Jew to another in a way that remains hard to explain. When a Jew visits Jerusalem for the first time, it is not the first time; it is a homecoming. The first song I heard was my mother’s lullaby about and for Jerusalem. Its sadness and joy are part of our collective memory.
...
   Today , for the first time in history, Jews, Christians and Muslims all may freely worship at their shrines. And contrary to certain media reports, Jews, Christians and Muslims ARE allowed to build their homes anywhere in the city. The anguish over Jerusalem is not about real estate but about memory.
   What is the solution? Pressure will not produce a solution. Is there a solution? There must be, there will be. Why tackle the most complex and sensitive problem prematurely? Why not first take steps which allow the Israeli and Palestinian communities to find ways to live together in an atomosphere of security. Why not leave the most difficult, the most sensitive issue, for such a time?
—Elie Wiesel, quoted by Jennifer Rubin at Commentary.

Buechner on grace

2010-04-15T13:34:00.001-04:00

After centuries of handling and mishandling, most religious words have become so shopworn nobody's much interested anymore. Not so with grace, for some reason. Mysteriously, even derivatives like gracious and graceful still have some of the bloom left.
   Grace is something you can never get but can only be given. There is no way to earn it or deserve it or bring it about any more than you can deserve the taste of raspberries and cream or earn good looks or bring about your own birth.
   A good sleep is grace and so are good dreams. Most tears are grace. The smell of rain is grace. Somebody loving you is grace. Loving somebody is grace. Have you ever tried to love somebody?
   A crucial eccentricity of the Christian faith is the assertion that people are saved by grace. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do.
   The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you.. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you.
   There's only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace is yours only if you reach out and take it.
   Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.
—Frederick Buechner, from Wishful Thinking, a Seeker's ABC.

Merton on Mercy and Worthiness

2010-04-08T10:35:00.000-04:00

In the true Christian vision of God's love, the idea of worthiness loses its significance. Revelation of the mercy of God makes the whole problem of worthiness something almost laughable; the discovery that worthiness is of no special consequence (since no one could ever, by himself, be strictly worthy to be loved with such a love) is a true liberation of the spirit. And until this discovery is made, until this liberation has been brought about by the divine mercy, man is imprisoned in hate.

Humanistic love will not serve. As long as we believe that we hate no one, that we are merciful, that we are kind by our very nature, we deceive ourselves; our hatred is merely smoldering under the gray ashes of complacent optimism. We are apparently at peace with everyone because we think we are worthy. That is to say we have lost the capacity to face the question of unworthiness at all. But when we are delivered by the mercy of God the question no longer has a meaning.
Hatred tries to cure disunion by annihilating those who are not united with us. It seeks peace by the elimination of everybody else but ourselves.
But love, by its acceptance of the pain of reunion, begins to heal all wounds.
—Thomas Merton, in A Thomas Merton Reader

An amazing choir

2010-04-05T07:00:00.001-04:00

A choral work performed by over 200 singers, each sitting at their own computer.

The real point of Easter

2010-04-03T14:00:00.002-04:00

The logic, for want of a better term, of Christ dying for our sins is lost on most unbelievers for several reasons. One, they do not see themselves as sinful enough to warrant a sacrifice on their behalf. Two, they cannot fathom why Jesus dying counts, or what it counts for. And they refuse to use the word sacrifice accurately.

In Romans 5, Paul tells us this: “Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned—“ (v. 12). Paul is making a fundamental statement: everyone is a sinner. It wasn’t a new idea; King David said in Psalm 51:5: “Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin my mother conceived me.” This concept of Original Sin (the belief that Adam’s original sin has been passed down to all his offspring, i.e., you and me) has a strong Biblical basis, as well as a practically observable one. G. K. Chesterton once remarked: “Certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved.” You may have trouble with it emotionally, and even cognitively, but if you have lived past the age of two, when you first told your parents “No!” then you have your own sin, and the point is moot.

This pervasiveness and egalitarianism of sin not only escapes modern man; it sometimes even escapes modern Christianity. Think of it this way: Next time someone asks you what your church is like, tell them it is a wonderful community made up of murderers, adulterers and thieves. Strong words but true. Most likely, the differences between me and Ted Haggard, the recent president of the National Association of Evangelicals who had to step down because of sexual impropriety, are more ones of action than attitude. As C. S. Lewis discovered, “For the first time I examined myself with a serious practical purpose. And there I found what appalled me; a zoo of lusts, a bedlam of ambitions, a nursery of fears, a harem of fondled hatreds. My name was legion.” He perfectly describes what faces those earnestly seeking forgiveness and restoration:

“When you know you are sick, you will listen to the doctor…. Of course, I quite agree that the Christian religion is, in the long run, a thing of unspeakable comfort. But it does not begin in comfort; it begins in…dismay.”

This is our dilemma. Sin has destroyed our relationships with one another, our relationship with the natural world, our relationship with ourselves and, most importantly, our relationship with God. I find it curious that most, if not all, of the humanitarian programs and activist groups around the world, from Greenpeace to the Red Cross and even the PTA, are all seeking to heal these fractures. Yet all but a few ignore the root cause. And the thing to remember is it isn’t whether we feel guilty or not: we are guilty. Is there a remedy, a relief from this hopelessness and helplessness?

A few verses later in Romans 5, Paul gives us the answer:

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous. (vs. 18-21).

Most of us know and believe this: that Jesus died on the cross, taking our sin guiltiness with Him, and healed the separation between God and man. And hopefully, that healing leads to other healings—within us between our spirits and our bodies and minds; between husbands and wives, parents and children, one nation and another; even between man and the environment.

But here is where I think many believers stumble: they think somehow that, having accepted Christ’s atoning sacrifice for their sin, they are better than those who have not. This is a deadly notion—deadly not only to those you are trying to reach who have not yet come to faith, but deadly to your own humility and usefulness. In his first letter to Timothy, the Apostle Paul, obviously a devoted, informed and thoroughly saved Christian, said, “It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost of all.” (1:15)

Notice the tense: “I am.”

Charles Spurgeon suggests that you can never experience the fullness of forgiveness until you realize the fullness of your sinfulness: “There never was a man yet who was in a state of grace who did not know himself, in himself, to be in a state of ruin, a state of depravity and condemnation.” Again, C. S. Lewis strikes just the right tone when, in writing to Sheldon Vanauken, he said, “Think of me as a fellow patient in the same hospital who, having been admitted a little earlier, could give some advice." We are not better than anyone else. We are still as helpless and sinful as ever; we are simply forgiven, and expect God to better us. We cannot do it ourselves. Without Christ, we can do nothing.

I love the terms “lost” and “saved.” We’ve twisted them a bit, made them religious words, but in their primary uses, they illustrate so well what grace truly is.

Picture this: You take a small sailboat out into the Gulf of Mexico. What started out as a lovely morning turns nasty. There is a terrible squall, and the boat is torn in half. You survive the storm, but are left adrift, clinging to a decreasingly buoyant piece of flotsam. You have no idea which way is shore, and no way to summon help.

Just as you are about to surrender to the darkening sky and cold water, a deep-sea fishing boat comes by and hauls you to safety. Soon you are on dry land.

You are incredibly grateful to your rescuers. You are exhilarated. You were facing sure death, and someone snatched you to safety.

A year later you hear of another weekend sailor who has become lost in the Gulf. The circumstances are eerily similar. But now that you are on solid ground, what do you think: That you are a better sailor? That you always knew which way the shore waited?

If you’re wise, you’ll realize the only difference between you and the lost mariner (and you and a lost soul) is that you know where you are. It is place you could not find on your own, and could not reach on your own. And you still can’t. The only thing for sure is that you will not ever again risk death at sea. But if you have a heart at all, you’ll aid in the search for all those who are still lost at sea.

It is no small thing to have your sins forgiven. What love it is to be spared an eternity of suffering and separation (and no doubt much in our earthly lifetimes as well). And you can be freed from that constant wondering of whether you are “good enough” to please God. But don’t think you can take credit for it. And don’t think it makes you better than anyone else. If you do, even a little bit, you don’t understand grace. All of what is good and true for us is true and good only because Jesus died in our place, to pay the price we owed. Those who haven’t figured this out are not stupid but, as you once were, merely ignorant. They do not know what they do not know.

In 1981, Harold Kushner, a Reformed Jewish rabbi, published a very popular book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. The premise was that that God has arranged the universe in such a way that even He cannot solve all of its dilemmas, but that He also, due to his caring nature, suffers along with his creatures.

While I’m sure the book brought comfort to many, it seems to me that it must be a sentimental comfort, not a real one. More important than God suffering along with His creatures is the truth that he suffered for His creatures. That’s the point of Easter.

Why do bad things happen to good people? With apologies to Rabbi Kushner, it is both to our sorrow and our gladness that, in fact, they don’t.

Well, once.

—W. S.

Lenten Reading, Saturday, April 3

2010-04-03T07:00:00.001-04:00

Lent Reading: Alive in Christ. Ephesians 2:1-10

And you were dead in your trespasses and sins,
in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience.
Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.
But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us,
even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved),
and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,
so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.
For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God;
not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.
For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

The Blood Flows

2010-04-02T14:00:00.000-04:00

Here is a video I created for our Good Friday service at Roswell Community Church. It is based on a poem I wrote several years ago. The music is "Prelude" from John Michael Talbot's The Lord's Supper.

Lenten Reading, Friday, April 2

2010-04-02T07:00:00.003-04:00

Lent Reading: The death of Jesus. John 19:16-42

So he then handed Him over to them to be crucified.
They took Jesus, therefore, and He went out,bearing His own cross, to the place called the Place of a Skull, which is called in Hebrew, Golgotha.
There they crucified Him, and with Him two other men, one on either side, and Jesus in between.
Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It was written, "JESUS THE NAZARENE, THE KING OF THE JEWS."
Therefore many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, Latin and in Greek.
So the chief priests of the Jews were saying to Pilate, "Do not write, 'The King of the Jews'; but that He said, 'I am King of the Jews.'"
Pilate answered, "What I have written I have written."
Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took His outer garments and made four parts, a part to every soldier and also the tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece.
So they said to one another, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, to decide whose it shall be"; this was to fulfill the Scripture: "THEY DIVIDED MY OUTER GARMENTS AMONG THEM, AND FOR MY CLOTHING THEY CAST LOTS."
Therefore the soldiers did these things. But standing by the cross of Jesus were His mother, and His mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.
When Jesus then saw His mother, and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to His mother, "Woman, behold, your son!"
Then He said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother!" From that hour the disciple took her into his own household.
After this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished, to fulfill the Scripture, said, "I am thirsty."
A jar full of sour wine was standing there; so they put a sponge full of the sour wine upon a branch of hyssop and brought it up to His mouth.
Therefore when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, "It is finished!" And He bowed His head and gave up His spirit. Then the Jews, because it was the day of preparation, so that the bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day), asked Pilate that their legs might be broken, and that they might be taken away.
So the soldiers came, and broke the legs of the first man and of the other who was crucified with Him;
but coming to Jesus, when they saw that He was already dead, they did not break His legs.
But one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out.
And he who has seen has testified, and his testimony is true; and he knows that he is telling the truth, so that you also may believe.
For these things came to pass to fulfill the Scripture, "NOT A BONE OF HIM SHALL BE BROKEN."
And again another Scripture says, "THEY SHALL LOOK ON HIM WHOM THEY PIERCED."
After these things Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but a secret one for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus; and Pilate granted permission. So he came and took away His body.
Nicodemus, who had first come to Him by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds weight.
So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews.
Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid.
Therefore because of the Jewish day of preparation, since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

Lenten Reading, Thursday, April 1

2010-04-01T07:00:00.000-04:00

Lent Reading: Great Love of God. Psalm 57:7-11

My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast;
         I will sing, yes, I will sing praises!
    Awake, my glory!
         Awake, harp and lyre!
         I will awaken the dawn.
    I will give thanks to You, O Lord, among the peoples;
         I will sing praises to You among the nations.
    For Your lovingkindness is great to the heavens
         And Your truth to the clouds.
    Be exalted above the heavens, O God;
         Let Your glory be above all the earth.

Lenten Reading, Wednesday, March 31

2010-03-31T07:00:00.001-04:00

Lent Reading: Riches of God's Grace. Ephesians 1:3-14

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ,
just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love
He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will,
to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.
In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace
which He lavished on us. In all wisdom and insight
He made known to us the mystery of His will, according to His kind intention which He purposed in Him
with a view to an administration suitable to the fullness of the times, that is, the summing up of all things in Christ, things in the heavens and things on the earth. In Him
also we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will,
to the end that we who were the first to hope in Christ would be to the praise of His glory.
In Him, you also, after listening to the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation--having also believed, you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise,
who is given as a pledge of our inheritance, with a view to the redemption of God's own possession, to the praise of His glory.

Lenten Reading, Tuesday, March 30

2010-03-30T07:00:00.002-04:00

Lent Reading: Eagerly wait. 1 Corinthians 1:4-9

I thank my God always concerning you for the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus, that in everything you were enriched in Him, in all speech and all knowledge,
even as the testimony concerning Christ was confirmed in you,
so that you are not lacking in any gift, awaiting eagerly the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who will also confirm you to the end, blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.
God is faithful, through whom you were called into fellowship with His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Lenten Reading, Monday, March 29

2010-03-29T01:08:00.000-04:00

Lent Reading: Power of His Resurrection Philippians 3:7-11

But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ.
More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ,
and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith,
that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death;
in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.

Lenten Reading, Saturday, March 27

2010-03-27T07:00:00.000-04:00

Lent reading: Lives to intercede. Hebrews 7:22-28

[S]o much the more also Jesus has become the guarantee of a better covenant. The former priests, on the one hand, existed in greater numbers because they were prevented by death from continuing,
but Jesus, on the other hand, because He continues forever, holds His priesthood permanently.
Therefore He is able also to save forever those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them.
For it was fitting for us to have such a high priest, holy, innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners and exalted above the heavens;
who does not need daily, like those high priests, to offer up sacrifices, first for His own sins and then for the sins of the people, because this He did once for all when He offered up Himself.
For the Law appoints men as high priests who are weak, but the word of the oath, which came after the Law, appoints a Son, made perfect forever.

Lenten Reading, Friday, March 26

2010-03-26T07:00:00.001-04:00

Lent reading: Wisdom of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18-31

For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
For it is written,
"I WILL DESTROY THE WISDOM OF THE WISE,
AND THE CLEVERNESS OF THE CLEVER I WILL SET ASIDE."
Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?
For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not come to know God, God was well-pleased through the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe.
For indeed Jews ask for signs and Greeks search for wisdom;
but we preach Christ crucified, to Jews a stumbling block and to Gentiles foolishness,
but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.
Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.
For consider your calling, brethren, that there were not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble;
but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong,
and the base things of the world and the despised God has chosen, the things that are not, so that He may nullify the things that are,
so that no man may boast before God.
But by His doing you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification, and redemption,
so that, just as it is written, "LET HIM WHO BOASTS, BOAST IN THE LORD."

Lenten Reading, Thursday, March 25

2010-03-25T07:00:00.000-04:00

Lent reading: Radiance of God’s glory. Hebrews 1:3-13

And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the word of His power When He had made purification of sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high,
having become as much better than the angels, as He has inherited a more excellent name than they.
For to which of the angels did He ever say,
         "YOU ARE MY SON,
         TODAY I HAVE BEGOTTEN YOU"?
         And again,
         "I WILL BE A FATHER TO HIM
         AND HE SHALL BE A SON TO ME"?
And when He again brings the firstborn into the world, He says,
         "AND LET ALL THE ANGELS OF GOD WORSHIP HIM."
And of the angels He says,
         "WHO MAKES HIS ANGELS WINDS,
         AND HIS MINISTERS A FLAME OF FIRE."
But of the Son He says,
         "YOUR THRONE, O GOD, IS FOREVER AND EVER,
         AND THE RIGHTEOUS SCEPTER IS THE SCEPTER OF HIS KINGDOM.
    "YOU HAVE LOVED RIGHTEOUSNESS AND HATED LAWLESSNESS;
         THEREFORE GOD, YOUR GOD, HAS ANOINTED YOU
         WITH THE OIL OF GLADNESS ABOVE YOUR COMPANIONS."
And,
         "YOU, LORD, IN THE BEGINNING LAID THE FOUNDATION OF THE EARTH,
         AND THE HEAVENS ARE THE WORKS OF YOUR HANDS;
     THEY WILL PERISH, BUT YOU REMAIN;
         AND THEY ALL WILL BECOME OLD LIKE A GARMENT,
     AND LIKE A MANTLE YOU WILL ROLL THEM UP;
         LIKE A GARMENT THEY WILL ALSO BE CHANGED
         BUT YOU ARE THE SAME,
         AND YOUR YEARS WILL NOT COME TO AN END."
But to which of the angels has He ever said,
         "SIT AT MY RIGHT HAND,
         UNTIL I MAKE YOUR ENEMIES
         A FOOTSTOOL FOR YOUR FEET"?

Lenten Reading, Wednesday, March 24

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Lent reading: Image of the invisible God. Colossians 1:15-22

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities--all things have been created through Him and for Him.
He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.
He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything.
For it was the Father's good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him,
and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross; through Him, I say, whether things on earth or things in heaven.
And although you were formerly alienated and hostile in mind, engaged in evil deeds,
yet He has now reconciled you in His fleshly body through death, in order to present you before Him holy and blameless and beyond reproach--

Lenten Reading, Tuesday, March 23

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Lent reading: Man of sorrows. Isaiah 53:1-7

Who has believed our message?
         And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
    For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot,
         And like a root out of parched ground;
         He has no stately form or majesty
         That we should look upon Him,
         Nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.
    He was despised and forsaken of men,
         A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
         And like one from whom men hide their face
         He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.
    Surely our griefs He Himself bore,
         And our sorrows He carried;
         Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,
         Smitten of God, and afflicted.
    But He was pierced through for our transgressions,
         He was crushed for our iniquities;
         The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him,
         And by His scourging we are healed.
    All of us like sheep have gone astray,
         Each of us has turned to his own way;
         But the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all
         To fall on Him.
    He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
         Yet He did not open His mouth;
         Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,
         And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,
         So He did not open His mouth.

Lenten Reading, Monday, March 22

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Lent reading: Very nature of God. Philippians 2:5-11

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped,
but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men.
Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus EVERY KNEE WILL BOW, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Lenten Reading, Saturday, March 20

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Lent Reading: Healing on the Sabbath. Luke 13:10-17

And He was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath.
And there was a woman who for eighteen years had had a sickness caused by a spirit; and she was bent double, and could not straighten up at all.
When Jesus saw her, He called her over and said to her, "Woman, you are freed from your sickness."
And He laid His hands on her; and immediately she was made erect again and began glorifying God.
But the synagogue official, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, began saying to the crowd in response, "There are six days in which work should be done; so come during them and get healed, and not on the Sabbath day."
But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites, does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the stall and lead him away to water him?
"And this woman, a daughter of Abraham as she is, whom Satan has bound for eighteen long years, should she not have been released from this bond on the Sabbath day?"
As He said this, all His opponents were being humiliated; and the entire crowd was rejoicing over all the glorious things being done by Him.

Lenten Reading, Friday, March 19

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Lent Reading: Faith of the centurion. Matthew 8:5-13

And when Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion came to Him, imploring Him,
and saying, "Lord, my servant is lying paralyzed at home, fearfully tormented."
Jesus said to him, "I will come and heal him."
But the centurion said, "Lord, I am not worthy for You to come under my roof, but just say the word, and my servant will be healed.
"For I also am a man under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to this one, 'Go!' and he goes, and to another, 'Come!' and he comes, and to my slave, 'Do this!' and he does it."
Now when Jesus heard this, He marveled and said to those who were following, "Truly I say to you, I have not found such great faith with anyone in Israel.
"I say to you that many will come from east and west, and recline at the table with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven;
but the sons of the kingdom will be cast out into the outer darkness; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."
And Jesus said to the centurion, "Go; it shall be done for you as you have believed." And the servant was healed that very moment.

Lenten Reading, Thursday, March 18

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Lent Reading: Do you want to get well? John 5:1-14

After these things there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
Now there is in Jerusalem by the sheep gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew Bethesda, having five porticoes.
In these lay a multitude of those who were sick, blind, lame, and withered, [waiting for the moving of the waters; for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool and stirred up the water; whoever then first, after the stirring up of the water, stepped in was made well from whatever disease with which he was afflicted.]
A man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.
When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he had already been a long time in that condition, He said to him, "Do you wish to get well?"
The sick man answered Him, "Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I am coming, another steps down before me."
Jesus said to him, "Get up, pick up your pallet and walk."
Immediately the man became well, and picked up his pallet and began to walk. Now it was the Sabbath on that day.
So the Jews were saying to the man who was cured, "It is the Sabbath, and it is not permissible for you to carry your pallet."
But he answered them, "He who made me well was the one who said to me, 'Pick up your pallet and walk.'"
They asked him, "Who is the man who said to you, 'Pick up your pallet and walk'?"
But the man who was healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had slipped away while there was a crowd in that place.
Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, "Behold, you have become well; do not sin anymore, so that nothing worse happens to you."

Lenten Reading, Wednesday, March 17

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Lent reading: "Unless the Lord..." Psalm 94:17-19

If the LORD had not been my help,
         My soul would soon have dwelt in the abode of silence.
    I$f I should say, "My foot has slipped,"
         Your lovingkindness, O LORD, will hold me up.
    When my anxious thoughts multiply within me,
         Your consolations delight my soul.

The Celtic Cross

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The most enduring symbol of the Christian religion is the cross. In reality, of course, the cross is much more than a mere symbol, but it’s representation graces many things—from churches to hospitals and ambulances, to fine chains hung around the necks of people around the world.

One of the most beautiful representations of cross symbology is the Celtic Cross. Most distinctively, a circle is centered around the intersection of the cross. Examples hundreds of years old exist in abundance across England and Ireland. Many symbologists have found examples of the basic shape (cross over the circle) from even pre-Christian times, but the ornate versions we call Celtic Crosses have their genesis in the earliest days of Christianity in Wales, Scotland and Ireland.

Also called High Crosses (presumably because many were carved from tall standing stones left by the Druids and other ancient societies), there are still examples dating back to the 7th Century, such as the Cross of the Scriptures (pictured left) on the banks of the Shannon River in Ireland.

Characteristic of Celtic art is a highly ornamental style, with an avoidance of straight lines and, even occasionally, symmetry. While some Celtic crosses do incorporate frescoes, most display runes or symbolism that is undecipherable, far from the classical tradition of the Greeks or Romans.

Many traditions exist as to why this particular shape of cross has come to be associated with the Celtic tradition, with explanations running the gamut from pagan symbol to navigational aid. In the absence of consensus, perhaps the favorite one of native sons will suffice: It is said that St. Patrick, preaching to some soon-to-be-converted pagans, was shown a standing stone marked with a circle, symbol of their moon goddess. Partick drew the sign of the Latin cross across the circle and blessed it, making it the first Celtic Cross.

—W. S.

Lenten Reading, Tuesday, March 16

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Lent Reading: Healing the blind and mute. Matthew 9:27-33

As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed Him, crying out, "Have mercy on us, Son of David!"
When He entered the house, the blind men came up to Him, and Jesus said to them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" They said to Him, "Yes, Lord."
Then He touched their eyes, saying, "It shall be done to you according to your faith."
And their eyes were opened. And Jesus sternly warned them: "See that no one knows about this!"
But they went out and spread the news about Him throughout all that land.
As they were going out, a mute, demon-possessed man was brought to Him.
After the demon was cast out, the mute man spoke; and the crowds were amazed, and were saying, "Nothing like this has ever been seen in Israel."

Lenten Reading, Monday, March 15

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Lent Reading: "Someone touched me." Luke 8:40-48

And as Jesus returned, the people welcomed Him, for they had all been waiting for Him.
And there came a man named Jairus, and he was an official of the synagogue; and he fell at Jesus' feet, and began to implore Him to come to his house;
for he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, and she was dying. But as He went, the crowds were pressing against Him.
And a woman who had a hemorrhage for twelve years, and could not be healed by anyone,
came up behind Him and touched the fringe of His cloak, and immediately her hemorrhage stopped.
And Jesus said, "Who is the one who touched Me?" And while they were all denying it, Peter said, "Master, the people are crowding and pressing in on You."
But Jesus said, "Someone did touch Me, for I was aware that power had gone out of Me."
When the woman saw that she had not escaped notice, she came trembling and fell down before Him, and declared in the presence of all the people the reason why she had touched Him, and how she had been immediately healed.
And He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace."

Adeline Grace

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Age three days. Oh, yeah, I've got plenty more.
--"Papa" Wayne S.

Lenten Reading, Saturday, March 13

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Lent Reading: Enter that rest. Hebrews 4:1-11

Therefore, let us fear if, while a promise remains of entering His rest, any one of you may seem to have come short of it. For indeed we have had good news preached to us, just as they also; but the word they heard did not profit them, because it was not united by faith in those who heard.
For we who have believed enter that rest, just as He has said,
         "AS I SWORE IN MY WRATH,
         THEY SHALL NOT ENTER MY REST,"
         although His works were finished from the foundation of the world.
For He has said somewhere concerning the seventh day: "AND GOD RESTED ON THE SEVENTH DAY FROM ALL HIS WORKS";
and again in this passage, "THEY SHALL NOT ENTER MY REST."
Therefore, since it remains for some to enter it, and those who formerly had good news preached to them failed to enter because of disobedience,
He again fixes a certain day, "Today," saying through David after so long a time just as has been said before,
         "TODAY IF YOU HEAR HIS VOICE,
         DO NOT HARDEN YOUR HEARTS."
For if Joshua had given them rest, He would not have spoken of another day after that.
So there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God.
For the one who has entered His rest has himself also rested from his works, as God did from His.
Therefore let us be diligent to enter that rest, so that no one will fall, through following the same example of disobedience.

Lenten Reading, Friday, March 12

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Lent Reading: Better is one day. Psalm 84

How lovely are Your dwelling places,
         O LORD of hosts!
    My soul longed and even yearned for the courts of the LORD;
         My heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God.
    The bird also has found a house,
         And the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young,
         Even Your altars, O LORD of hosts,
         My King and my God.
    How blessed are those who dwell in Your house!
         They are ever praising You. Selah.
    How blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
         In whose heart are the highways to Zion!
    Passing through the valley of Baca they make it a spring;
         The early rain also covers it with blessings.
    They go from strength to strength,
         Every one of them appears before God in Zion.
    O LORD God of hosts, hear my prayer;
         Give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah.
    Behold our shield, O God,
         And look upon the face of Your anointed.
    For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand outside.
         I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God
         Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
    For the LORD God is a sun and shield;
         The LORD gives grace and glory;
         No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.
    O LORD of hosts,
         How blessed is the man who trusts in You!

Lenten Reading, Thursday, March 11

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Lent Reading: No Separation. Romans 8:37-39

But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers,
nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Lenten Reading, Wednesday, March10

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Lent Reading: "Come unto Me..." Matthew 11:28-30

"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS.
"For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."

Welcome, Adeline Grace

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Our first grandchild entered the world today. Her name is Adeline Grace. Her nickname will be Addi, and her street name (so says her aunt) will be Addi-G. Her parents are my son, James, and his wife, Bernnie. Adeline was born around 2 AM, weighs 7 pounds, 6 ounces, and is 20.25 inches long. Cheryl, the proud grandmother, was in the delivery room and said both James and Bernnie performed flawlessly.
I have often said most newborns look like little red raisins with eyes, but I feel I must say this is a beautiful girl. And she has spent all of her life, so far, looking around, taking in her new world (and all these strange faces--mom, dad, aunt, uncle, great-uncle, both grandmothers, and me, Papa.).
Thanks be to God for this wonderful gift.