“Newton’s practice was to write hymns to be sung following his sermons. When he preached on 1 Chronicles 17:16 –17 in January 1773, he introduced his congregation to the hymn ‘Faith’s Review and Expectation’ (which was only later retitled ‘Amazing Grace’).
Newton wrote, “If the LORD whom I serve, has been pleased to favor me with that mediocrity of talent, which may qualify me for usefulness to the weak and poor of his flock, … I have reason to be satisfied.”
This hymn might have slipped into obscure, at least for a while, had it not been taken up by American revivalists and abolition movement, specifically Harriet Beecher Stowe.
Three verses of Newton’s “Amazing Grace” performed by Andrea Bocelli and Alison Krauss
In the days of our forefathers, when there was nothing but wretched boats up in Nordland, and folks must needs buy fair winds by the sackful from the Gan-Finn, it was not safe to tack about in the open sea in wintry weather. In those days a fisherman never grew old. It was mostly womenfolk and children, and lame and halt, who were buried ashore.
I thought I was buying a collection of north Norwegian folk stories when I purchased (OK, it was free) Weird Tales of the Northern Seas, by Jonas Lie (considered one of the “four greats” of Norwegian literature in the National Romantic period, along with Ibsen, Bjørnstjerne Bjørnsson, and Alexander Kielland [whose writing retreat near Stavanger I visited this summer]). What I got was something somewhat different, and in some ways better. It certainly left its impression on this reader.
Jonas Lie wrote novels in the “realistic” style (I’ve never read any of them), but he didn’t mind incorporating a folk tale or two into them, as sort of psychological local color. He also assembled some collections of genuine folklore stories. It from both of these categories that the editor (and translator? I’m not sure) R. Nisbet Bain collected this volume in 1893.
These stories are grim. They mirror the attitudes of a culture that learned to eke a marginal existence from the cruel sea at the cost of perpetual danger and human tragedy. The monster that shows up most often here is the draug. The name refers to a kind of revenant in other parts of Norway, but in the north he was a sea-troll who had a head like a seal’s (or a lump of seaweed), who took ruthless, often long-delayed revenge on those who offended him. Most often the lesson of the story is that you will pay for your sins, and nothing can be done about it.
Probably the most famous of the stories is the first, “The Fisherman and the Draug,” which is exactly the sort of thing I just described. The one that impressed me most was the next, “Jack of Sjöholm and the Gan-Finn,” probably the weirdest of the collection. It shows the most obvious marks of literary craftsmanship, especially in its poetic, dream-like quality, and ends in an obscure manner that you never find in real folk tales.
But all in all, these stories are genuinely atmospheric and haunting. If you like this sort of thing, I recommend it. The translation isn’t bad – a little stilted, but that very likely echoes the original text. This was the 1890s, after all. The worst problem is that the footnotes at the end of each story aren’t linked, which creates a difficulty for non-Norwegian readers.
“My Soul’s Been Anchored,” performed by Moses Hogan Chorale & Singers during the Moses Hogan Reunion Concert, 2013
This folk song is rare among hymnals, and the arrangement above comes from Moses Hogan (1957-2003). Not something we would sing together as a congregation, but we could sing along with the choir and have it stick in our ears for the week.
Refrain: In the Lord, in the Lord, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord; In the Lord, in the Lord’ My soul’s been anchored in the Lord.
1 Before I’d stay in hell one day, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord; I’d sing and pray myself away, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, O Lord! My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, O Lord! My soul’s been anchored in the Lord. [Refrain]
2 I’m born of God, I know I am, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, I’m purchased by the dying Lamb, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, O Lord! My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, O Lord! My soul’s been anchored in the Lord. [Refrain]
3 Going to shout and pray and never stop, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord; Until I reach the mountain top, My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, O Lord! My soul’s been anchored in the Lord, O Lord! My soul’s been anchored in the Lord. [Refrain]
No matter where they are in the world, when someone refers to the Queen, they almost always mean Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith.
This photo of the young queen hangs in Nottingham’s Council House (Lee Haywood/Flickr).
C.S. Lewis watched Elizabeth’s coronation on TV and wrote this in a letter:
. . . the Queen herself appeared to be quite overwhelmed by the sacramental side of it. . . .
The pressing of that huge, heavy crown on that small, young head becomes a sort of symbol of the situation of humanity itself: humanity called by God to be his vice-regent and high priest on earth, yet feeling so inadequate. As if he said, “In my inexorable love I shall lay upon the dust that you are glories and dangers and responsibilities beyond your understanding.”
Celebrities: “But over time, it seemed, the fallen leaders managed to accrue immense social power without true proximity. They cultivated an image of spiritual importance while distancing themselves from embodied, in-person means of knowing and being known.” Gina Dalfonzo reviews Celebrities for Jesus: How Personas, Platforms, and Profits Are Hurting the Church by Katelyn Beaty.
A Writer’s Regrets: A.N. Wilson, who has published over 40 novels and other books, has released a memoir. He “says that he cannot believe that the ‘young fogey’ of the 1970s and 1980s, dapper, elegantly suited, was him. He describes himself as thrustingly ambitious, full of himself and unfaithful not only to his wife but to his own better nature.”
Stolen Books:Joel Miller has a roundup of stolen book news, such as the Gospel manuscript that was taken during WWI and how Bibles were a common stolen good when he worked at a bookstore in California.
“Growing up, I often heard that the medieval church used to chain up Bibles so average people couldn’t read it. It’s a common myth. The reality is that illiteracy was the norm, average people had better things to do than read, and books were only chained to keep clerics, monks, and visiting scholars from stealing valuable property—or reading in the latrine.”
Religious History:“. . . the more you got to know the men, the more human did they become, for better or worse; you were more concerned to find out why they thought as they did than to prove it was wrong.”
Photo: 7-Up Building, Portland, Oregon. 1976. John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.
Dennis Carstens is not a very good prose stylist. His diction can be awkward, even confusing, and his punctuation is best described as whimsical. But I like his characters, he poses very challenging moral problems to the reader, and he’s not politically doctrinaire.
At the beginning of Desperate Justice, Minneapolis attorney Marc Kadella is enjoying an upswing in his business fortunes. His success in his last big case has brought in needed clients. But when a prominent local defense attorney asks him to come on to defend his client’s co-defendant in a linked case, Marc is suspicious. Still, he takes the job, and soon regrets it. He and his client have been set up to take a fall, and Judge Gordon Prentiss – whom we remember with distaste from the last book – does not hesitate to take his personal rancor out on Marc’s client, who goes to prison.
So Marc is astonished when Judge Prentiss is himself charged with murder, and asks for Marc to defend him. Marc has no objection to representing a guilty man (and Prentiss looks guilty as sin), but he considers him a complete sleazeball. Which, the reader soon learns, is entirely correct. Perhaps the man ought to go to prison on general principles.
Desperate Justice is a kind of a diffuse story, which heads off in several directions before bringing it all together in the end. But I very much enjoyed the ethical dilemmas raised. What does “presumption of innocence” really mean? How do you defend a man you despise? How do you respond when even the good guys lie to you?
Stories of moral ambivalence can be corrosive and depressing, if they’re done nihilistically. But the Marc Kadella books never fall into nihilism. They ask honest questions, leaving the reader to draw judgments.
The politics seem pretty moderate to me, but the very fact that Democrats in Minnesota get criticized at all (Republicans come in for it too) is a breath of fresh air.
Cautions for language, sexual situations, and themes of extreme perversion.
As you’ve no doubt heard by now, Queen Elizabeth II, by the grace of God Queen of England, died today at the age of 96. She was the longest reigning monarch in English history, and the second-longest reigning in any country that we know of. Old and full of days, as the Bible says.
It’s yet another melancholy landmark in the lives of us oldlings. I was alive before Elizabeth reigned, just as I was alive during the Truman administration, but I remember neither. I recall being a child, and never having known a president other than Eisenhower. Today, in my dotage, I have no memory of a world without Queen Elizabeth.
What do I think of monarchy? I’ve flirted with monarchism as a political cause from time to time in my life, but I wouldn’t want it for the US. However, I’m an anglophile and a Norgephile (I don’t think that’s an actual word, but I mean a lover of Norway), and they’re both monarchies.
There’s an old conservative argument that monarchy is a stabilizing institution, one that binds a country to its traditions.
But I’m leery of what the new generation of monarchs will do.
Ah well, it’s all in the hands of God.
Speaking of England, everybody’s talking about the new Rings of Power TV series on Amazon Plus. I’m surprised, honestly, at the number of my Facebook friends who speak highly of it, so far.
Will I watch it? No, I don’t think so.
Here’s why.
I’m willing to watch a Middle Earth movie that’s based directly on a Tolkien story. I’ll give the producers the benefit of the doubt until I learn better (as you may recall, I liked the LOTR trilogy, did not like the Hobbit movies).
But if what I understand is correct, this series is based only on general outlines of events in the Silmarillion. That – in my view – grants the filmmakers too much freedom to pursue their own agendas.
Let’s not forget, Tolkien was a Catholic writer. His whole purpose in creating Middle Earth was to recreate a lost English mythology. Because he believed that mythology prefigured Christian truth (C. S. Lewis was converted on this argument), he believed that a faithful mythology would lead hearts to the Christian faith. He and Lewis invented the concept of “mythopoeia” for that very purpose.
The Amazon Plus series has not been conceived for that purpose. Therefore, in my view, it cannot be faithful to the author’s vision.
I enjoyed the first book in my friend J. L. Curtis’ The Bell Chronicles, Showdown on the River, so I picked up book number two, Ranching in Colorado. The title’s a little generic, but the story was excellent.
Rio Bell, gunslinging Texas rancher’s son, survived the dangers of a trail drive and a range war, and now he has his reward. He’s married and owner of a large spread in Colorado. He wasn’t entirely prepared for mountain life or for northern winters, and when his wife gets pregnant he really feels out of his depth.
But he has some his hands with him, along with the crew of old mountain men who helped so much in his earlier adventures. He’ll learn the business, survive a stampede, and face back-shooting rustlers before he’s done.
I don’t know why I don’t read more westerns. I have an infinite taste for cowboy stories. This book was a little less bombastic than the first one; not much gunplay until the last third of the book or so.
I have quibbles, of course. Wedding dresses were not, as a rule, white in the 1870s. A woman we’re told is Scandinavian uses German words like “mit” (with) and “danke,” rather than “med” and “takk.” Some of the English diction is distractingly modern, like, “this baby is an affirmation of our commitment.”
But those are small things. Enjoy the story. Recommended.
In our degenerate times, claiming that you’ve read the Bible multiple times through sounds like bragging (it wouldn’t have been as much of a big deal when I was starting out). That said, I’ll make so bold as to say that I’ve read the Bible, Old and New Testaments, multiple times. I’m pretty familiar with the narrative.
But I was intrigued by the premise of Frank Viola’s The Untold Story of the New Testament Church. The idea is to straighten out the chronological problems. The Old Testament isn’t laid out in order of events, but the historical books are generally chronological, which is helpful to the reader. But the New Testament is arranged by genre and book length. I won’t say that causes confusion, but it makes the message less coherent than it might be.
What author Viola has done here is to tell the story on a timeline, explaining the historical context (this is very valuable) and then inserting the various books (or rather, descriptions plus reading prompts) in their proper order, based on critical opinion and (sometimes) the author’s personal choices.
It’s a little humbling to admit that the book helped me understand New Testament history better, but it did. Some of the author’s choices are subjective and could be disputed, but all in all I thought the thing as a whole very helpful.
And I learned stuff. I was not aware that Titus was (arguably) Luke’s brother. Or that Gallio, the governor of Corinth, was brother to the philosopher Seneca.
The prose was occasionally a little awkward, and there’s a lamentable tendency to employ exclamation marks. But still, I recommend The Untold Story of the New Testament Church. I think it would be a great project for a Bible study group to work through this book, reading the scriptural books as they come up.
These commanders who made such good use of archery as a national tactic had no real conception of the fact that in terminating the ascendency in war of the mailed horseman they were putting an end to the feudal regime and all that it entailed.
When you and I think of the medieval English bowman, we (unless you’re very weird) always think first of Robin Hood, in whatever cinematic or literary incarnation we know him. And there’s good reason for that. Robin Hood became an English national legend because he symbolized an important – and uniquely English – historical phenomenon. The English yeomanry enjoyed a very special status in Europe because they provided the manpower for English military archery, which made their country almost invincible on the battlefield for several centuries. Donald Featherstone’s Bowmen of England probably qualifies as a “classic” treatment of the subject, as it was first published 1968. No doubt some of the facts he cites represent scholarship that has since been revised or debunked. But as far as I can tell, the book remains a valuable introduction to the subject.
It opens with a fictional, dramatized scene of classic longbow tactics in battle. This part, I must admit, is rather badly written, and made me wonder what I was getting into as a reader. However, the author hits his stride when he moves on to plain exposition.
The longbow (traditionally, but not always, made of yew, usually imported) was first developed by the Welsh. But King Edward I (one can’t help thinking of Braveheart, but Edward is an admired figure here) recognized its value and adopted it for his own armies. He instituted universal archery practice for all common men, legislation that continued in force in various forms up into the Renaissance period.
Most of the book consists of a historical survey, especially of the Hundred Years’ War, in which the author describes the chief battles in which the longbow was decisive. The pattern is repetitive, and almost comic in a dark way. Again and again the English bowmen slaughtered massed French cavalry, at tremendous cost in lives, equipment and fighting expertise. And yet the French never learned. Every time they were certain that, given enough chivalry and valor, they’d whip the English this time.
Along the way we learn a fair amount about the construction of bows and the training of bowmen. We learn only a little about the military tactics of the time, but that’s only because they barely existed. There are also a lot of casualty figures, which are kind of depressing. It’s saddening to think how many lives were wasted in war in those days. (Sadder still to know that the situation hasn’t improved with time.)
There’s been a fashion in recent decades for publishing books about “The [fill in the blank] that changed the world.” If it had been written later, that title could have been applied to Bowmen of England. The longbow killed chivalry, altered the social order, and laid the groundwork for tactics in the Age of Gunpowder.
The book shows its age through its unabashed patriotism, but that’s just refreshing nowadays.
A few years ago, someone wanted to buy Anthony Sacramone’s old bookcases and gave praise to the universe for the opportunity. He bit his tongue in order to avoid saying something like:
“You put it out to the universe? The universe is concerned that your shelving needs are met? Do Neptune and Pluto fret over your interior design? Does Alpha Centauri pine for our pine? Does some kamikaze comet threaten cosmic doom if a couple of 84” bookcases do not materialize with relative alacrity?
… Does the Universe ever feel iffy? Does it ever sit on the fence? Ever put a request out there and get a big fat maybe?”
We can read what Anthony might have said in First Things.
