All posts by philwade

Sunday Singing: My Times Are in Your Hand

Today’s hymn of humble reliance on the Lord comes from an Englishman who was devoted to Sunday School. William Freeman Lloyd (1791-1853) was born in Uley, Gloucestershire and worked in Oxford and London. The tune is an adaptation of an aria from Giovanni Paisiello’s opera La Molinara (The Miller Girl).

“But I trust in you, O LORD;
I say, ‘You are my God.’
My times are in your hand;
rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!” (Psalm 31:14–15 ESV)

1 My times are in Your hand;
my God, I wish them there!
My life, my friends, my soul, I leave
entirely to Your care.

2 My times are in Your hand
whatever they may be,
pleasing or painful, dark or bright,
as You know best for me.

3 My times are in Your hand;
why should I doubt or fear?
My Father’s hand will never cause
His child a needless tear.

4 My times are in Your hand:
Jesus, the Crucified;
those hands my cruel sins had pierced
are now my guard and guide.

5 My times are in Your hand;
such faith You give to me
that after death, at Your right hand
I shall for ever be.

The Vietnamese Love Edgar Allan Poe

A hundred years ago in Vietnam, when the French controlled their education, Edgar Allan Poe was believed to be “America’s literary giant.” They were familiar with eerie stories of supernatural beings, which a long-standing Chinese genre gave them, so discovering Poe was like grandkids discovering Mam-ma.

Poe’s name evoked liberation of the mind, and he was praised as someone who had ascended from the mundane by the power of imagination,” Nguyễn Bình writes for Literary Hub, offering several examples of Poe’s influence on the nation’s literature.

In 1937, author Thế Lữ began writing detective fiction. “In the story “Những nét chữ” (Letter Strokes), [Hanoi-based hero] Lê Phong told the Watson-like narrator: ‘The stuff about reading people’s thoughts from their faces like Edgar Poe and Conan Doyle said… I’m only more convinced that they’re true. Because I just did so.'” (via Prufrock)

A couple more links for today.

Ted Gioia says the big guys are out to get independent creators. For example, Apple is squeezing Patreon. Google says it can’t find select websites. It’s ugly. Gioia writes, “I’ve been very critical of Apple in recent months. But this is the most shameful thing they have ever done to the creative community. A company that once bragged how it supported artistry now actively works to punish it.”

And is this the best sci-fi classic most fans have missed? “Though it routinely ends up on best-of-all-time lists, somehow, the 1974 science fiction novel The Mote in God’s Eye never actually seems to get read.” A quick glance at the first of 2200 reviews on Goodreads suggests the book hasn’t aged well.

Photo: Dinneen Standard station, Cheyenne, Wyoming. (John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.)

Phantom Thriller: Review of Phantom Orbit by David Ignatius

Guest review by Adam H. Douglas

David Ignatius’ new novel, Phantom Orbit (2024), is like a Zen koan asking: When is a thriller not a thriller? 

Let me explain.

Those of you familiar with Mr. Ignatius know he is a renowned reporter for the Washington Post who writes a twice-weekly column there. He is also the author of several works of fiction, mostly thrillers. Personally, I wasn’t familiar with his creative writing until I picked up this new novel. 

As you might expect, his writing skills are very good. The man can craft the textures of a wide variety of global cultures and wield national idioms with a time-honed and deft ability. His professionalism shines through on every page. 

That’s the good part. 

On the flipside, this was a frustrating, meandering read that I would’ve given up on about a quarter of the way through if not for a sense of masochistic curiosity that made me wonder how long it would remain so pointless.

Three Decades of Backstory 

The story of Phantom Orbit follows three characters over three decades, from the mid-90s to the current time. 

Our first hero is Ivan Vladimirovich Volkov, a one-time student of astronomy and astrophysics at Tsinghua University (Beijing), who is feeling the effects of the dissolution of Soviet Russia. As a young man studying hard, he hooks up with a visiting American woman named Edith Ryan—our second heroine. The two have an intense romantic relationship that ends in a tearful separation. 

Ivan greatly regrets the breakup yet wonders if he might’ve dodged a bullet. After all, there were subtle indications that the young woman might’ve been a CIA operative. 

Our third character is Professor Cao Lin, a distinguished researcher and member of the Academy of Sciences who eventually becomes head of a committee on “special projects” that reports to the Central Military Commission. Essentially, he’s there to get China’s spy/intelligence space program working, including attacking the Americans by whatever means they can manage. 

Promises to Keep

Phantom Orbit commits what I consider to be one of the most grievous sins for thriller novels (or indeed any novel genre if you get right down to it): Failing to follow through on its promises. 

The book is marketed as a taut page-turning thriller that is part The Martian, part The Da Vinci Code. The dust jacket teases us with the story of a Russian student (Ivan) stumbling upon an “unsolved puzzle” contained in the writings of the famous 17th-century astronomer Johannes Kepler. Ivan brings this puzzle to a prominent scientist within China’s space program, expressing his determination to find the solution that could have “significant implications for space warfare.”

Sounds intense and dynamic, right? Moreover, the book’s prologue is practically textbook-format for attracting thriller aficionados. Here’s a summary:

Continue reading Phantom Thriller: Review of Phantom Orbit by David Ignatius

Sunday Singing: My Heart Is Filled with Thankfulness

Today’s hymn is a new one from the great Keith Getty and Stuart Townend. “My Heart Is Filled with Thankfulness” was completed in 2003. The video above is a 2020 evensong version. The lyric is still copyrighted, but it is displayed in the video.

“I will give to the LORD the thanks due to his righteousness, and I will sing praise to the name of the LORD, the Most High” (Ps 7:17 ESV).

Don’t Worry about the News

Over the past several days, I’ve looked for peaceful, beautiful images or videos to share on Twitter in an effort to calm people down. No doubt dozens of readers had a momentary sigh because of it. Not a long enough sigh to like the tweets. Of course not. That would be too much like making eye contact on the street.

But I have tried to share peace on Twitter, the primary social media I use, because what Thomas Kidd says about news consumption is true. “News Anxiety Is a Waste of Time.”

He recommends dialing back your daily news calories to almost nothing, giving this detail on contextual reporting. “Newspapers are generally better at telling readers what’s going on – normally with some hours or days of time to digest events – than the insta-reactions of cable tv and social media.” Add to that good magazines and podcasts, like the good people at World News Group.

A 24-hour news cycle should not be the soundtrack of our day. Let’s set it aside and take up good and praise-worthy things instead.

Sunday Singing: Shall We Gather at the River

For an All Saints hymn today, let’s meditate on “Shall We Gather at the River” by Philadelphia-born minister Robert Lowry (1826-189). The Biography of Gospel Song and Hymn Writers praises his musical work.

“His melodies are sung in every civilized land, and many of his hymns have been translated into foreign tongues. While preaching the Gospel, in which he found great joy, was his life-work, music and hymnology were favorite studies, but were always a side issue, a recreation.”

“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.” (Revelation 22:1–2 ESV)

1 Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

Refrain:
Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river;
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

2 On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy golden day. [Refrain]

3 Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we ev’ry burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. [Refrain]

4 Soon we’ll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease;
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. [Refrain]

Is Evil Merely Banal or Profound?

Douglas Murray discusses the success of Hannah Arendt’s “banality of evil” and its failure of as both a concept and a conclusion from the trail of Adolf Eichmann.

“Together with Eichmann’s contemporary attempts at memoir-writing—which were known about by the time of the trial—an Eichmann entirely different from Arendt’s emerges. Wonder of wonders, it is the Eichmann that the world knew existed until Hannah Arendt came along.”

He wasn’t “a mere bureaucrat” but a man who was proud to be a part of the murder of six million Jews. Nazis in Argentina wanted to believe the Holocaust was a hateful lie. “To Eichmann, these efforts to minimize the Holocaust were offensive—something like spitting on his life’s work. Eichmann knew that the six-million figure was accurate, and he seems to have only realized gradually that his audience was hoping for something quite different from him.”

Murray then describes the use of evil banality by contemporary journalists as a way to wave away the acts of terrorists.

“Pure evil. Terrible evil. Unfathomable evil—all of these things for sure. But ‘banal’? No—nothing could be further from the truth. And yet today, the idea of pure evil seems unavailable to many cultured minds. Perhaps it is too theological. Or perhaps we think such terms come from a metaphysics that we have abandoned as insufficiently subtle for our more enlightened times.”

(Photo of Eichmann trail by Israeli GPO photographer/ Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain)

Reformation Sunday: My Hope Is Built on Nothing Less

This classic hymn comes from the London Baptist minister Edward Mote (1797-1874). It was first published in 1836 under the title, “The immutable Basis of a Sinner’s hope.” The tune in the video above is not familiar to me, but I assume it’s traditional in some circles. It’s not the most common tune, which was written for the hymn in 1863.

“The Rock, his work is perfect,
for all his ways are justice.
A God of faithfulness and without iniquity,
just and upright is he.” (Deuteronomy 32:4 ESV)

1 My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ Blood and Righteousness;
No merit of my own I claim,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ Name.

Refrain
On Christ, the solid rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

2 When long appears my toilsome race,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every rough and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
Refrain

3 His oath, His covenant and Blood
Support me in the raging flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.
Refrain

4 When the last trumpet’s voice shall sound,
O may I then in Him be found,
Robed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.
Refrain

Conclave: Misunderstanding the Stated Theme

The new movie Conclave has a lot going for it — story tension, performances, a natural gravitas of habit and habitat — but it doesn’t take its theme deep enough to stir the soul.

Acton’s Joseph Holmes writes, “The film is visually mesmerizing and the acting is superb. . . Every liturgical and ritual observance is infused with weight and drama, from the prayers to the manner in which ballots for the new pope are submitted.”

But the leader of the conclave, Cardinal Lawrence, is burdened by doubt, at least, that’s what we’re told. He speaks of doubting God and the church but never doubts its politics.

“This lets the air out of much of the story’s drama. Because the film never shows the ‘conservative’ side, those struggling to retain the old ways, as being sympathetic in any way, we never get to see Lawrence struggle with the rightness of his own position. Ironically, he never doubts himself.”

World‘s Colin Garbarino notes another kind of shallowness. “These churchmen have surprisingly little to say about the Bible’s teachings or church tradition during their debates. Even the conservatives seem more concerned with cultural tradition than doctrinal conviction.”

Photo by Ran Berkovich on Unsplash

The Diary of a Country Priest by Georges Bernanos

How hard it is to avoid offending somebody! And however hard you try, people seem less inclined to use goodwill to their advantage, than unconsciously eager to set one goodwill against another. Inconceivable sterility of souls — what is the cause of it? Truly, man is always at immunity with himself — a secret sly kind of hostility. Tares, scattered no matter where, will almost certainly take root. Whereas the smallest seed of good needs more than ordinary good fortune, prodigious luck, not to be stifled.

Parisian author Georges Bernanos published Journal d’un Cure de Campagne (The Diary of a Country Priest) in 1936. It’s a quiet, at times devotional, novel about a young priest eager to serve his parish while his superiors on all sides tell him to calm down. The scant story consists mainly of a few lengthy conversations and a few more brief scenes, the climax of all of them coming in chapter 5 of 8.  

A fictional diary has a natural dramatic resistance to overcome. It’s a secondhand account from a first-person narrator, so you know it isn’t happening as you are reading and the narrator makes it through to write it down. I found it helpful that the priest acknowledged this by confessing he couldn’t record his conversations exactly as they occurred, which was good because it meant he could write more of what he intended to say than what he spat out at the time. 

The book begins with the unnamed priest describing his parish “like all the rest” and “bored stiff.” In almost every character, we can see a spiritual apathy, which he describes as a “cancerous growth” and “like the fermentation of a Christianity in decay.”  Even his superior preach hope only “by force of habit.” Few of his congregation faithfully attend mass, and some have lifestyles that violate God’s moral laws, but they all believe they are Christians in good standing and should be treated as such. As one holy man put it, the priest of our book shouldn’t disturb them by spurring them to greater faithfulness. If they are bitter, conniving, or perverted, what of it? Why risk a scandal by calling them out? 

But our priest does risk a scandal. As he spurs himself into visiting every house in the parish over a period of one-to-three months, he cannot refrain from saying what needs to be said. At least, I think that’s what we’re told he does. We don’t see much of that, and what he says in the larger recorded conversations doesn’t touch on the gospel (at least not clearly enough). Many good lines about our need for the Divine and the uselessness of life without the Father, but nothing about Christ’s atonement. As a soldier in the book says, the church has defined a secular space for the world and stepped away from it, leaving most people to wait on a curb and wonder what to do. 

Our priest does record his desire to uphold church doctrine through catechizing children and pressing adults in matter of the faith. When someone from the community dies of suspected suicide, he’s the one who raises the question with an elder priest. The response he gets is that God is the only judge and what’s the use of saints if just men can die without some grace to justify them. 

One of the best threads in this book is the priest’s wrestling with prayer, feeling completely worthless half of the time, and coming out of it after arguing about it with someone else. Have monks who spend most of their days in prayer confessed it was a waste of time? No. That communion has sustained them, because the Lord’s grace is tangible sustenance.  

There are a few pages of distinctly Catholic flavor, which I imagine helps push this book into the favorite category for many readers.  

There are no time markings in the narrative, so it’s hard to tell whether even a year passes between these covers. Whatever the amount of time, our priest suffers with a restricted diet for most of it, subsisting on bread and sour wine and painting a bold parallel to Christ. But in the final chapter, he appears to learn a profound lesson in grace from an unlikely source. 

Photo by Free Nomad on Unsplash