Drawing Close to the Others

“Father Damien was a priest who became famous for his willingness to serve lepers.” Trevin Wax quotes a Christmas meditation from the life of a man willing to live close to lepers.

Also via Mr. Wax, Alan Jacobs’ essay, “Christianity and the Future of the Book.” If Christians are people of the book, how would we change if “the book” as we know it disappears? “This interweaving of technology and theology is extremely complex, and the arrows of causation run in both directions.* Christians adopted the codex before other groups — Jewish and pagan alike — for serious theological reasons…”

The best of Norwegian Christmas tradition

The devastatingly handsome figure you see above is a piece of lefse. I’m also in the picture, in the maroon sweatshirt. Last night I joined my friend in St. Paul, making lefse at his house for the second year in a row. I know how excited you already are about this, but this year it’s better because we have pictures!

This is what lefse looks like when it’s finished. My friend says it’s the best batch of lefse he’s ever made in his life (and he’s made a lot). On the basis of my own on-site research, I can’t dispute that.

Below, after the fold, a Christmas song from Sissel Kyrkjebø: Continue reading The best of Norwegian Christmas tradition

Flight out of Egypt, recommended

Sorry to post about bad news so close to Christmas. Tomorrow I promise a Sissel video.

Via my Facebook friend Josh Griffing, this report from a sympathetic Jew at Big Peace, on the plight of Christians in Egypt:

Gordon College is a Christian school between Salem and Rockport. A few weeks ago I spoke there at a commemoration of Kristallnacht, Germany’s night of broken glass, the first mass assault on Europe’s Jews and the harbinger of the Shoah. I told the Christian audience how good it was to feel Christian support for Jews in these times, and that even some of the most stubborn of my people were now appreciating Evangelical support for Israel. I also said that we felt this blessed support came from a spirit of Christian altruism. But given the news from the Middle East, concern for others is surely not the only reason Christians need to support Israel.

I asked how many in the audience of 250 knew of Anne Frank. Almost every hand shot up. Then I asked how many had heard of Ayman Labib. I got a mass blank stare. Ayman was a 17-year-old Egyptian Christian who just weeks ago was beaten to death by his Muslim classmates as teachers watched because he refused their demand to remove his cross necklace.

I asked how many knew about the Maspero massacre, which had left at least 24 Copts dead and 270 injured. And whether they knew that since January, there had been more than 70 attacks on Christian churches or institutions in Egypt.

While tonight you commemorate a Jewish pogrom, I told them, Christianity has just suffered its own “Kristallnacht” … and I have yet to see much of a Christian response.

If I were a utilitarian, I’d recommend that the Christians of the Middle East start demanding their own “homeland.” Unfortunately, the approved method of promoting such a policy, in our time, is suicide bombing, which is forbidden to Christians.

The blood of martyrs is the seed of the church, it’s true. But it would be pretty cold-blooded to look on complacently while our brethren are slaughtered, insulated by a conviction that “it can’t happen here.”

It’s also happening in Africa. Europe is next. Eventually, America will be in the cross-hairs, if nothing is done.

Deadly Stillwater, by Roger Stelljes

It’s generally a pleasure for me to read novels set on my home turf. Not only do I enjoy being able to visualize known locations as I follow the story, but for some reason I have a childish conviction that places are somehow validated, made more interesting, because they’ve been laminated between the covers of a book.

There was lots of that for me in Deadly Stillwater, by Roger Stelljes. The action ranges around eastern Minnesota and western Wisconsin, but most of it happens in the Twin Cities, and the climax is set near Stillwater, just to the east.

The hero is Mac McRyan, a St. Paul police detective. As one of the police chief’s “boys,” a decorated group of smart and effective cops, he’s called in from a vacation day (this all takes place over the Fourth of July holiday) when Shannon Hisle, daughter of one of the city’s most prominent—and wealthy—attorneys, is kidnapped. There’s added urgency because Shannon is a Type 1 diabetic. The police are already going all out when the criminals up the ante—they kidnap the police chief’s daughter as well. These are smart and organized villains who plan with military precision. It will take hard work, some luck, and a lot of ruthlessness to save the girls and bring a very motivated gang to justice. Continue reading Deadly Stillwater, by Roger Stelljes

On the Death of Christopher Hitchens

I always enjoyed what heard from Christopher Hitchens. As difficult to hear as some of his opinions were, he seemed to be an interesting, pleasant man at a distance, very smart and a great stone for sharpening one’s mental sword. Cal Thomas reflects on his death in this column, pointing to the truth that has endured centuries of caustic argument.

Hitchens’ brother, Peter, has written about him too, calling him courageous. “I offer it because the word ‘courage’ is often misused today. People sometimes tell me that I have been ‘courageous’ to say something moderately controversial in a public place. Not a bit of it. This is not courage. Courage is deliberately taking a known risk, sometimes physical, sometimes to your livelihood, because you think it is too important not to.”

Apologia

[If you’ve been following the discussion in the Comments on my “The dance of the straw men” post below, you’ll have noticed that I (and some others) have been carrying on a debate with a visitor named Brendan, a very intelligent, thoughtful and courteous Unitarian. I have just posted a comment in response to his question as to why one should believe the Bible, more than the scriptures of other religions.

My response is below. I think it’s worth giving it a blog post of its own. This is not my personal Christian testimony, and it does not delve into the mysteries of grace. It’s just an account of the line of reasoning that leads me to contemplate the Christian faith in the first place.]

As for believing in biblical Christianity, here’s my rationale.

It’s true that faith begins where reason leaves off. But the decision to take that step is itself a reasoned one. It’s as if I were to take a course in mountain climbing. When I decide to do that, I implicitly accept the idea that I will soon step outside my range of knowledge into territory where I’ve never been before, and do things that make no sense to me. I am prepared to follow my instructor’s commands, even though he tells me to do things that seem counterproductive or even suicidal.

As a Christian, I am obligated (and I’m happy about this) to accept the validity of reason. But I also understand that it takes more than reason to describe the universe I actually live in. Every person alive (unless they have a serious personality disorder) understands this. We accept, at some level, that men who live for possessions alone are living an impoverished life. We accept that beauty matters. We admire people who give up their lives (the only lives they’ll ever get, in the materialist view) for a principle or a loyalty. Continue reading Apologia

Ghost Stories

Andrew Klavan’s “Advent Reunion” ghost story is being anthologized by Vintage Originals.

Also, Loren and friends once again are observing an advent ghost story sharealong.

Bookstore Opened Five Years Ago

Boekhandel Selexyz Dominicanen in Maastricht, The Netherlands, opened for Christmas five years ago inside a former Dominican cathedral. See the beautiful photos. I hope they have a good church history section. (First seen here)

Snippet Three, Troll Valley

They were still discussing it around the wash table outside the mud porch when we got to the house. Bestefar was dipping water from a pail into the washbasin, and as he rolled up his sleeves, loosened his shirt and started to scrub the dirt off he said, “Peter, I think Otto’s got a point. The problem with you is you ain’t got brains enough to know when you’re smart.”

Papa folded his arms and twisted his mouth. “You know how many men try that sort of thing every year and lose their shirts?”

“Ja, some of them fail. But none of the ones who don’t try, succeed,” said Bestefar, lathering his arms with a cake of soap. His hands were red-brown as an Indian’s to the wrist, the arms paint-white from there on up. “Look at me. If I hadn’t been willing to take a chance, I’d still be fishing sild in Norway.”

“You tell him, Ole,” said Otto. Continue reading Snippet Three, Troll Valley