Religion

Egalitarian gnosticism?

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This will be a short (as short as I can make it) meditation on a subject that deserves a far more comprehensive treatment. Chances are the idea I’ll raise isn’t original to me, and somebody else has already written about it, probably far more sensibly.

I was recently sent .pdfs of a couple open letters from prominent figures in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. The first was this letter, written by former presiding bishop Herbert Chilstrom. In it he defends recent ELCA decisions that placed a blessing on the practice of homosexuality. The decisions, he says, are consistent with a Lutheran understanding of the Word of God. He quotes in particular the theologian Carl E. Braaten, writing, “The ultimate authority of Christian dogmatics is not the biblical canon as such, but the gospel of Jesus Christ to which the Scriptures bear witness—the ‘canon within the canon.’”

I was also sent Prof. Braaten’s response, which you can read here. Although Prof. Braaten is not someone I myself have ever looked to as a model in matters of scriptural interpretation, there are some things that can still make even an advocate of the higher criticism gag. Prof. Braaten answers, “You are right that the Word of God can mean one of three things, the incarnate Word, the written Word, or the proclaimed Word. In this case, the context makes it clear that it means the written Word of God, the Bible. I do not believe that the other two meanings of the Word of God diminish by a single iota the authority of the written Word of God.” Continue reading Egalitarian gnosticism? →

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Saved by the Dead Ringer on the Graveyard Shift

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Cemetery with old headstones

Did you know this? I quote from An Authoritative Source. “England is old and small, and they started running out of places to bury people [back in the 1500s]. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a ‘bone-house’ and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, one out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they thought they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the ‘graveyard shift’) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be ‘saved by the bell’ or was considered a ‘dead ringer.'”

That’s “true,” folks, as true as it gets, in some circles.

But let’s talk about those phrases again, okay? Saved by the bell, dead ringer, and the graveyard shift. Continue reading Saved by the Dead Ringer on the Graveyard Shift →

Authors, Non-fiction

An Interview with Hunter Baker

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To the Source, a weekly email on cultural issues, has interviewed Hunter Baker about his new book, The End of Secularism. Hunter says:

I think Christians should kindly refuse the invitation to take their religious activity and speech private. They should maintain the validity of the faith for their approach to community life and politics. They should point out that secularism provides little guidance for dealing with big political questions and that the values have to come from somewhere. Too often, secularists selectively crib Christian values without acknowledging the source. We didn’t just get here by accident. We don’t appreciate things like liberty, equality, and democracy by sheer accident. Christianity has been a major civilizational force.

Religion

On not being afraid of the dark

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Back in my low-rent Christian singing group days, we met a pastor who ministered in a southern Minnesota town. He was a fascinating fellow, an eccentric dresser, and a great extrovert with many wild stories to tell. He’d been a hippie before his conversion, and he told stories of his adventures with some occultists he’d lived with for a while in California. (Rory Bohannon in Wolf Time is based, in part, on him.)

Thinking back on our acquaintance, I don’t believe he was a fraud. His stories were sometimes spooky, but they lacked the self-aggrandizement of Mike Warnke‘s fabulations. I believe he was seriously trying to convey spiritual truth, and using the stories to draw us in.

And there’s one thing he said that I’ll always remember. “When you talk to people about the occult,” he said, “they almost always respond in the same way. They say, ‘I don’t believe in it—tell me about it.’” Continue reading On not being afraid of the dark →

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Relative Maxims

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I have learned that both of these maxims have been employed over the years:

  • The best defense is a solid offense.
  • The best offense is a strong defense.

Which do you think is true or stronger, if both are true? I usually think of this the first way and in terms of a chess game. Your object in chess and any competitive game is to win, not to avoid losing too badly. I suppose in other conflicts you must be careful to avoid taking too much damage so that any victory would be hollow and sorely won, but even then defeating the opponent quickly will keep him from hurting you.

The page I link to above has a quote from George Washington which I looked up for a bit of context. The first American president and great American general said:

It is unfortunate when men cannot or will not see danger at a distance; or, seeing it, are undetermined as to the means, which are necessary to avert or keep it afar off. I question whether the evil arising from the French getting possession of Louisiana and the Floridas would be generally seen, until felt; and yet no problem in Euclid is more evident, or susceptible of clearer demonstration. Not less difficult is it to make them believe, that offensive operations oftentimes are the surest, if not in some cases the only means of defence.

That’s generally the way I see it. What do you think?

Fiction

The Soul of Frankenstein

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Frankenstein's Castle. Photo by Yvo Geis

Burg Frankenstein in Darmstadt, Germany

This professor was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey hairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were nearly black. His person was short, but remarkably erect; and his voice the sweetest I had ever heard. . . .

“The ancient teachers of this science,” said he, “promised impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir of life is a chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature, and show how she works in her hiding places. They ascend into the heavens: they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.”

Such were the professor’s words–rather let me say such the words of fate, enounced to destroy me. As he went on, I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being: chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein–more, far more, will I achieve: treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.

From Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

Fiction, Religion

A couple of things

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Came across this in my reading today, and thought it was good:

I dreamt. Jeremy tells me that we all dream every night but we don’t remember our dreams. The trick to remembering is to wake up during a dream. Poets, he said, are particularly good at waking up during or immediately after a dream. Something lets them know some good stuff that they might be able to use has been going on. Jeremy’s current favorite poet was Byron. I read a few Byron poems. The guy had nightmares. I preferred the book of William Blake poems Jeremy had given me, though I didn’t understand most of them. I just liked the way they sounded and it was the only poetry book I’d ever seen with drawings in it.

(Stuart M. Kaminsky in Think Fast, Mr. Peters, p. 90)

I’m still not sure this story is authentic, but if true, it’s just delightful. Apparently Larry David did an episode on his Curb Your Enthusiasm HBO series about urinating on a picture of Jesus. Hilarity ensues as those stupid Christians react in their simple-minded, provincial way.

However, now the Council on American-Islamic Relations has sent a letter to HBO, expressing their offense at an insult to someone they revere as a great prophet.

What a dilemma for a citizen of Hollywood—“Do I apologize, and please Christians (which is unthinkable), or do I insult Islam (also unthinkable)? How can this have happened? I’m so sensitive!”

That sound you hear is me chortling. Chortling evilly. In a simple-minded, provincial way.

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In which I explain my crush on a younger woman who’s not actually younger, and died long ago

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Rita Hayworth

Sunday evening I watched my DVD of the movie, “You Were Never Lovelier,” starring Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth.

Now I’m not normally a huge musical fan. I find Fred Astaire’s movies entertaining, but I wouldn’t actually spend money to acquire one.

But Astaire and Hayworth? That’s a whole different matter.

It’s not the greatest musical. Only one song became a standard (“I’m Old-Fashioned”). A silly plot, worthy of a P.G. Wodehouse novel (not that there’s anything wrong with that). It has the added eccentricity of featuring band leader Xavier Cugat in his pre-Abby Lane, way-pre-Charro days. Although it’s set in Argentina, everybody speaks in American accents. Except for Cugat. Quick! Don’t think about it!

Astaire and Hayworth only did two films together (I’ve still got to acquire “You’ll Never Get Rich”). Though they were miraculous as a team, and Astaire said he’d never worked with a better partner, he refused to do another with her because, he said, he didn’t want to be permanently paired with anyone again, as he had been previously, first with his sister, and then with Ginger Rogers.

I’m sure it had nothing at all to do with the fact that when Rita’s dancing, it’s impossible to see anybody else.

I know it’s mostly illusion. I know her real name was Margarita Cansino, and that her hair wasn’t really red, and that the studio gave her electrolysis to raise her hairline. I know that she once said, “Men marry Rita Hayworth, but wake up with me.” I know about her alcohol problems, and the string of awful marriages. And the final tragic descent into Alzheimer’s.

But movies are illusion. Rita was born to be a movie star, and nobody was ever lovelier on screen.

Music, Non-fiction

Serious Biography on Louis Armstrong

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Terry Teachout has a copy in hand of his new biography on Louis Armstrong. He writes that his book is a bit different than other biographies on jazz musicians or popular figures. “I’ve sought to write a narrative biography of Louis Armstrong that is comparable in seriousness, scope, and literary quality to a ‘definitive’ high-culture biography of a great novelist–or a great classical composer,” he says. Bravo, sir.