Forms, Frames and Fermata

When it comes to English poetry, Shakespeare is the best partially because he operated in a world of forms. Rhymes, rhythms, syntax, length...everything had to fit into this context, and within this framework he still expressed. His poems are musical because like music he has a finite number of notes, certain keys and definite line lengths. (Once you get beyond 16th notes in a music setting faster than a moderate tempo, you're basically asking people to fake it.)

I do not operate in that world of forms. I operate with free verse. (Shameless self-promotion:my poetry. Forms make me a better poet, but they are not my specialty.

It really takes more than mere practice, but the reason forms help so much is because they force you into wordplay, into understanding how you structure things, they teach you how to dance around words, to taste on your tongue the movement, feel the cadence as it drips by. It's not just sonnets. Sestinas, haiku, limericks...being given a box and transforming it. A canvas has edges, a finite space to create in. Master painters work within a frame. Master poets do the same.

A bedroom becomes your room when you express yourself within the confines of that room: a picture here, books there, stuffed animals...repaint the walls blue and gold or black and pink! But if you had no walls, no ceiling, you could not make it your own. It would merely stretch endlessly.

This is the service of forms to the free verse poet. It gives you a canvas, a space in which to operate and transform according to definitive rules. No matter what you do, blue and red will always make purple. Picasso may have been a cubist and rebelled against traditional rules of art, but he could not change this underlying rule. Neither can the poet change how language operates, and like Picasso, even the boldest among us must learn to operate on a canvas.

With that said, I want to talk about music for a second. Music operates in a world of rules beyond anything imaginable. Famed Briton Stephen Fry said he realized that words could be musical when he first heard Oscar Wilde's writings, and as a poet, I know how to love wordplay. Despite that, however, you cannot with words find a fermata over a note and simply pause on a sound. There are no crescendo and decrescendo. There are no moderate tempos and lively tempos, 70 beats per minute to 120 beats per minute, on the written page. It is merely according to the interpretation of the reader. A good writer might be able to structure his language accordingly, to imbue the pace of his writing with the excitement necessary to build to an exclamation point. (As an aside, this is why I love many of the romance languages in written form: the fact that a Spanish exclamation starts with an upside down exclamation point "¡" tells the reader how to read the sentence.)

But music--music!--operates in forms. It has keys in minors and majors and scales within keys, octaves and intervals, harmony and dischord, heterophony and homophony. Even non-Western music has forms in which to operate: the middle eastern makam, the Indian raga, Chinese pentatone (as you can imagine, five sounds, not our seven). And it is these forms that are such a clear reflection of our culture, of what we love.

Western music operates in triads, groupings of three notes that reflect medieval theology and the emergence of mass literacy recognizing the Trinity. During the Renaissance, you saw a move from heterophony and independent polyphony to homophony. Now, I love Renaissance music. Polyphony is gorgeous, but hard to follow. What we like and what we dislike are often matters of taste. One will like the meter-centric composition of hip hop, whereas others will love the soaring, flowing melodies of Andrew Lloyd Weber, and some will love the melodic intensity of Bach chorales.

What we can do, however, is judge music as better or worse cross-culturally. Music may not be a universal language (like language, it is defined according to its culture, constantly morphing--one who reads Western scales cannot necessarily read the Indian ragas, just as one who reads English cannot necessarily read Sanskrit), but it does have a universal function. Because music is built into a culture and finds its roots in that culture's philosophy, it follows that music is a reflection of a culture's understanding of truth.

Now, if we believe for a moment that the world has a certain order to it--and whether you're a theist or not, this is rather difficult to deny, given gravity and DNA and magnetism and the water cycle and heat dissipation and ionic bonds--then music which best reflects the order of things will be the best music. Gothic architecture is often philosophically praised because it is naturally elevating to the human spirit, draws the eyes upward to the heavens, regardless of its function as theology. I mean here to be talking of abstracts.

If Christianity is true, then the artistic offspring of its core philosophy will be more beautiful than lesser attempts at seeking the truth. For all my cynicism, I do believe that people, no matter how evil, are ultimately questing after what is true. People who do despicable acts do so out of a sincere interest or belief in their own righteousness. Hitler was an evil man, and deserves whatever punishment he finds in eternity. But I do believe that he honestly felt that the Aryan race was the ultimate realization of evolution, that the extermination of political and philosophical opponents (as well as the eugenics programs) was for the good of the German people, and that claiming a European sphere of influence dominated by Germany was a noble goal, albeit a selfish one for his own ends. I merely speak here about what Hitler believed, no matter how flawed he was.

So my great faith in humanity comes down to comparing cultural philosophies. C.S. Lewis observed that all religions share elements of the truth. Of course, he went on to argue that Christianity was the fullest realization of all these little truths into the one True Myth while discarding the wrong, but my point here is that cultural philosophies all have their merits. The fact that certain Indian ragas cannot be used except during funerals, and some cannot be used in the summer, is a recognition that "there is a time to every purpose under Heaven." Every cultural institution has its values. This is why it's more than okay to like various musical disciplines. Michael loves traditional Japanese music despite it not being Western music.

Can we judge the value of art? Absolutely. Working within a framework is the natural consequence of an ordered world. That which is closest to the truth is the most beautiful to the human soul, for we seek truth. Is Western music the best in the world? I don't know the answer to that question. It's a broad thing to say "Western" music because that includes so much--the joy of the Celts, the somber liturgies of the Slavs, the romanticism of the Germans. What I do know is that mere enjoyment is not criteria for judgment. I do know that there is an order to the world, that humans quest after what is true, and that God is a god of order, a god of divine logic (Greek: logos, i.e. The Word, that is Christ). To see his reflection in music is to see as in a mirror darkly. But there is the darkness of midnight and the darkness of the clouded noon-day sun. Would that the daylight is what we judge and deign to choose.

Perhaps this is why Beethoven's 5th symphony is the most widely performed and most frequently recorded piece of music in the world--in all cultures where it has been disseminated, it has taken hold for something within it, within the order of intervals and the key changes and the orchestration of various instrumental voices--because there is something true and good in the music of Beethoven. This is why Bach wrote laus deo (or was it Mozart?). Music can and should be enjoyed. It also can and should be judged according to its benefit for our souls, the truth it reveals.

Every art has a form. God, the ultimate artist, has imbued the world with laws. His own infiniteness has spawned a measurable universe. God, who could have worked his majesty across an endless canvas, has crafted rules in which to operate. This is the function forms. This is why poetry cannot be music, though it can be musical. And this is why even I, the free verse poet, will always come back to forms, will always search through music.

A general PS:
This does not just apply to music, poetry and visual art. Every artistic presentation has a canvas, limitations. An actor must utilize the body he is given, the capabilities of his voice, to express. He does so within the confines of a camera's range of vision (for film acting) or within the stage. Every art form has limitations, and our job is to fill to the edges--or to successfully leave certain parts unfilled, negative space, to preserve the beauty of what is there. (This is done a lot with Chinese art scrolls.) The vocal musician also has a certain range, and of course has all the rules of his musical discipline to follow.

The Pen, the Sword and Canada

Some posts brought back from writing Facebook notes.

This is dated December 2, 2008

In October, Canadians participated their 40th parliamentary election and the Conservatives won 143 parliamentary seats, a clear majority. To wit, the two primary opposition parties (Liberals, New Democrats) combined for only 114 seats. Ergo, the Conservative Party is the majority party and party leader Stephen Harper is a re-elected Prime Minister.

Now, the Canadian Parliament seats 308 Ministers of Parliament (MP) in the House of Commons. The 143 seats controlled by the Conservative party is only 46%, not a percentage majority of 50%+1. Therefore, the New Dems and the Liberals have signed onto a formal coalition soliciting the Governor General (an appointed representative of the Queen, and as the Queen is the supreme monarch of the Commonwealth, a figurehead with immense ceremonial power, though it is often never used) to fire Prime Minister Harper. This is technically licit, as Harper and the Conservatives do not hold percentage majority, and the Governor General can in fact overturn his position in the absence of Parliamentary majority.

However, it is clear that the Coalition is in the minority--with only 114 seats to the Conservatives 143. And those seats are conglomerated of individual parties which the Canadian people did not, in fact, vote for. In other words, Canadians as a majority rejected the New Democrat platform and the Liberal platform in favor of the Conservative platform. Likewise, those who did vote for the Liberals did not vote for New Democrats, and those who voted for New Democrats did not vote for Liberals. This is a cynical ploy by parties leadership to subvert their constituency in favor of power--the Liberals become New Democrats, the New Democrats become Liberals, in rejection of their voters clearly stated preference.

Add to the mix the Quebecois Bloc party with 49 seats, and the three "minority" parties combine for a grand total of 163 seats. This is a majority number--but it's comprised of three parties! The Quebecois have promised their support for the coalition to oust Harper and the Conservatives.

Can you say coup? Except there are no tanks; it's all on pretty letterhead. Truly the pen is mightier than the sword--especially in the hands of sore losers.

And you thought American politics were bad.

Here's hoping that Governor General Michelle Jean doesn't succumb to the ridiculous pressure and upholds the vote of the Canadian people for Harper and the Conservatives.

New Orleans

Hey! If anybody's out there in blog-land, I should have sent you here earlier.

I went to New Orleans a few weeks ago as part of a mission trip. You can read our teams' adventures (or not) by going to the blog. Click here! We split up writing duties to the team: I wrote day one, Greta wrote day 2, Tom wrote day 3, Katherine wrote day 4, Jaye wrote day 5 and Heather wrote day 6. Chris, being lazy, didn't write anything.

Knowing God

...or, "Why You Should Study Theology"

When I was four years old, I met my best friend. I didn't know at the time that he would become my best friend; he just the kid who sat two tables over in preschool. That was almost seventeen years ago.

I met God the same way. I wasn't four; I was 44 days old and I was baptized on a Sunday morning in front of my congregation. So I suppose God entered my life then, for baptism is the washing of sins (Greek baptizo="to wash") and the gift of God, that is, His Holy Spirit. I was hardly cognizant of that fact, let alone anything else—few infants are. I attended preschool at St. Luke’s, where I’m sure there was prayer, and most definitely sure there was singing; singing seems awfully important for preschoolers. Somewhere in all that, I learned the mantra “Jesus died for me” because I was “sinful”—and it was obvious that I was sinful, because everyone is sinful, whatever that means, because the teachers told me so, and teachers do not lie.

I fell into a realtionship with God by degrees, just as I did my best friend. Not only can I tell you my best friend's name and God's name, but I can tell you facts about my best friend: his birthday, what his favorite color is, his blood condition. If I didn't know any of these things, he would be the same person and I would love him immensely. But can you imagine someone turning to you and asking "What's your best friend's birthday" and you answered "I'm not sure." Gasp! What a terrible best friend! You don't know that and you're best friends!?

So why do we accept that from people who get into God? I can tell you His name, but I can't tell you anything else about Him--His nature, His habits. I know facts about my best friend that are way more inane that what his birthday is, but this is a mark of our friendship.

I can't tell you when I learned that he talks in his sleep or when I learned he had claustrophobia. This is knowledge I stumbled into; a relationship I fell into by degrees--but I pursue that relationship. We go bowling together, we go to the movies, we just sit and talk. I learn new things about his life as, though we are best friends, our relationship becomes stronger and stronger the more love, trust and time we invest in it.

We should treat our Creator, our Lord, our Savior the same way. We should spend time learning about Him. We should ask Him His greatest fear, whether He talks in His sleep. What is the nature of God? He is loving, yes, but how does that affect church doctrine? Why is baptism designed a certain way? If God is Truth, and we pursue Truth, we are then pursuing God. I want to know God like I know my best friend. I want to know facts about Him as much as I know Him. His hair color, the way He smiles.

A phonecall doesn't do that. Studying Him does. Committing His nature to memory, knowing His history of interacting with people does.

That's why you should study theology--to know God more perfectly, you must know about Him all the more. You don't know God's birthday!? What kind of best friend are you?

Modern Times

Wrote this piece a while ago for a film studies class. It's a thematic look at Charlie Chaplin's quintessential Little Tramp film Modern Times. Enjoy.

The Catholic writer G. K. Chesterton once remarked that the problems of the world could be condensed into two root issues: the recognition of man as an animal and the rejection of such a fact. The opening act of Modern Times hews closely to the former issue. The Little Tramp's employment in a factor assembly line is closely linked to the efficiency ideals of Andrew Carnegie, a social Darwinist. As a sight gag, the continuously accelerating production belt, upon which Chaplin's character endlessly and evermore hopelessly tightens bolts to widgets intended for God-knows-what provides humor at the expense of human ineptitude. However, as the indignities increase, including a pre-Orwellian (and yet undeniably Big Brother-esque) video screen upon which an apparent superior appears to chastise and fire the Little Tramp, the viewer is asked to participate in his sorrows—sorrows created by an impersonal, demanding job.

At present, it is difficult to imagine a person in the job market with no prospects. In our highly mobile society, experience and education lead to prospects across the country. It is easy to forget that no more than, and quite reasonably less than, 50 years ago, people still tended to remain in a regional job market. The melancholy of Chaplin's character is easier to understand with this in mind. Absentmindedly getting caught up in a communist political protest, the Tramp is arrested by the local police. In an era when people were looking so much for an alternative to the dog-eat-dog capitalism, the hold on capital by the upper echelon insured likewise social enforcement by said echelon. It is sad to see the Tramp imprisoned for what is an honest mistake, and sadder still to see his naïveté also be the reason for his release.

Chaplin's interaction with the street waif (apparently named Ellen, cf. IMDb) throughout the movie is a demonstration of the inability to initiate and maintain upward mobility in the early 20th century. When Ellen introduces the Tramp to a shackwork home on an empty lot, she dismisses it as "not Buckingham Palace," and yet it suffices for them as a home. Chaplin subtextually requests that the viewer be satisfied with this happy home established after so much hardship, but, this story is a tragicomedy, and of course it cannot last. The Dust Bowl displaced hundreds of Midwest farmers, and bank foreclosures put many families out on the street during the era. These long-established simple family homes were of course replaced with the commercialized megafarm. Thematically, it is little wonder that Modern Times relates to its contemporary audience.

Finally, as an indictment of capitalism, there is little else to point to than the Tramp's employment at a department store. Though trusted with responsibility, Chaplin has his signature character freely open the store to his fellow riffraff. The distribution of goods to the general populace is the definition of the proletariat revolution. We are to take this act of subversion as an act of altruism, and our sympathy for the Little Tramp is only meant to increase when he is once again arrested and fired from a job. And for what? Being compassionate? And so Chaplin's character, perhaps acknowledging that it was his final film, walks off into the sunset, but in so doing he is leaving behind the town that has brought him nothing but trouble and indignities in a social Darwinist work model. Of course, he is not alone: the heroic prince gets his pauper beauty—Ellen, of course, goes with him.

War is Peace

I took up writing web devotions for my church. My first batch isn't due up 'til the week of June 22nd, but since I'm here, and like to imagine that my writing is fairly clever, I decided I'll be sharing them with you. The title here is the title to the devotion for June 22nd. This devotional is on the passage of Jeremiah 28:5-9. Read the text, and proceed:

It’s easy to predict trouble. We tell children “life isn’t fair” and “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” These phrases assume that we encounter unfairness and that hurtful words are spoken to us. Jesus Himself told His disciples: “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33a). But what he said after that is more important. He uttered this command: “Take heart, I have overcome the world” (John 16:34b).

Hananiah was a false prophet who came to the Jews in exile claiming that God was going to “break the yoke of the king of Babylon” (Jeremiah 29:4). It sounds familiar. Politicians tell us that they will fix our lives, end our wars and stabilize our economy. They’re going to free us from all the troubles of the world. And this is what we love to hear—that someone, be it God or Congress—will make life easier.

Jeremiah’s responses to Hananiah were probably some of the most heartbreaking the Jews ever heard. He went back soon after this reading to relay a message from God: “I will put an iron yoke on the necks of all these nations to make them serve Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon, and they will serve him” (Jeremiah 28:13, 14). God promised Israel a life of struggle and of hardship. Hananiah promised the Israelites another life of struggle and of hardship. How did he think the rule of Babylon would be broken, because Nebuchadnezzar grew fond of daisy-picking?

When something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. The Christian life is full of the hardships that the prophets and Jesus talk about, as Jeremiah reminds us. But the prophet who prophesied peace has come. And we should take heart, for He has overcome the world.

Prayer:

Dear God, This life is full of hardships. Sometimes it’s easy to put my hope in the promises of people. Help me to remember that Jesus has overcome the world, and that the life of peace has come. Amen.

White People, Terrorism...

...and what it is

Engadget.com has a nice little news story about some Malaysian telecom company linking mosques together with a 224Mbps Internet connection at the low, low price of $1.57 (US) per month. Of course, someone was quick to observe "terrorists" at Muslim mosques, which prompted another commenter to ask why "white people" call other people terrorists. I had no idea terrorism was a race thing. I also had no idea that Islam was a racial group. I was pretty sure it was a religion.

I consider a lot of tactics employed by the IRA to be "terrorist" in nature. They're white folks. Timothy McVeigh? Terrorist. Ted Kazynski? Terrorist. White folks can be terrorists, too. And this white guy ain't afraid to say so.

But let's be straight for a minute. "Ethnic cleansing" genocides are markedly different from terrorism. Morally disgusting, straight-up wrong, reprehensible? Yes, but not the same. "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter" is a tired, tired cliche, and more importantly, a patently ignorant one at that. "Terrorism" describes tactics--the use of violence against a civilian populace in order to inflict fear (or "terror," if you will) and therefore coerce a governmental power to acquiesce to a set of wishes. A freedom fighter is one who fights for freedom, and his tactics need not be terrorist in nature. A freedom fighter can be a politician, a soldier in a regular militia or, yes, even a terrorist. But one man's freedom fighter can also be his terrorist, because it's about tactics, not ends.

Do genocides inflict terror? Absolutely. But the goal of genocide is rarely to inflict terror. NAZI germany looked to "purify" themselves. Absolutely wrong, and their leaders and followers deserve whatever punishment is due such despicable actions in Hell. Communist Russia looked to remove political enemies and establish a stronger central government. The establishment rarely, rarely seeks to inflict terror as an end in and of itself. I see your 6 million Jews, and I raise you one million Chinese. QED.

Why do we call others terrorists? I call it like I see it. Call me when American churches network and encourage suicide bombings in Egypt. I don't think I'll ever get that call. The simple fact is not every Muslim is a terrorist, but in terms of a percentage of the group, Islam is far and away a more violent religion than any other in the world.

What!? But Islam means peace! Actually, no it doesn't. It means "submission." It is etymologically linked to a Semitic word meaning peace ("Salem"), but the idea of Islam is to bring peace by bringing all the world under the hegemony of Allah, represented on earth by his political caliphate. They want us to submit. Their idea of religious freedom is the jizya, a tax all non-Muslims must pay while living in a Muslim country. I have to pay to be a Christian? I'll pass, thanks.

Finally, dear God, can we stop being political? This post was about the tech, as its engadget, not "en-politic." I want 224Mbps broadband, please.

A Short Post...

...for the Mariners fans

Fire John McLaren. Yesterday would have been fine. That is all.

The Most Inglorious Return

...of the Most Glorious Blogger!

It has been over a year since I updated this precious little trove of my ramblings, and somehow I feel like I've cheated the reading world of a few things. It is not that I suddenly ceased having thoughts over the last year; I simply desisted typing them up with a flare of sarcastic panache. I'll spare you my fully ramblomatic thoughts on all that has been going in the past year for some other time--namely the next several days when I'm posting such thoughts--for a thought I had today.

I read. A lot. Fiction books I've read over the last year:

• Emma by Jane Austen
• The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
• Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
• A laundry list of Star Wars books
• Last Days of Summer by Steve Kluger
• The Hunchbak of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
• Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
• After Dark by Haruki Murakami
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling
• Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
• American Gods by Neil Gaiman
• Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
• Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

I've only listed books that a) I hadn't read prior to 2007 and b) readily came to mind while typing up this list. I generally finish a new book in about 3-4 days, over about 10 hours of cumulative reading time. There are more than this list, along with some non-fiction.

I digress, though. This post is entirely about Murakami's After Dark. I finished reading it at about 12:30 this afternoon. I don't know what made me check out the book from the library. I recognized the Murakami's name from somewhere at the time (since, I've come to realize it was from Ananth Panagariya's blogging on applegeeks.com), and the local library had his novel South of the Border, West of the Sun on display.

Murakami is, apparently, hailed as a modern master. I haven't read his other works (I'm reading South of the Border... right now), so I cannot attest to or deny this label. I can understand the praise, however, in that he is a talented writer. He knows how to vary sentence length and select words appropriate to the tone he is trying to capture, often using screenplay-esque sentence fragments ("The Skylark. Big neon sign. Bright seating area visible through the window.") to set up a primarily descriptive chunk of the book. He displays a great range of voice.

What he doesn't do, however, is finish his story. My creative writing teacher from fall quarter intimated that a story, whether it be in a novel, a piece of short fiction, or even a trilogy, does not convey a life story. It only presents something that happened within a specific window of time in a specific place to specific people. The one caveat I add to this is that a story has a conclusion. I'm sure everyone saw something like this in elementary school. Note the final part: resolution.

Murakami weaves a multi-thread narrative up until the final few chapters. He ends the story when daylight comes, so that the entirety of the book takes place, as the title says, "after dark." There's one problem though: it doesn't conclude any of the narratives.

A Chinese prostitute is mugged, and the organized crime group she works for promises to hunt down the assailant.

A damn-she's-fine Japanese girl has been sleeping for two months and gets sucked into a nightmare reality inside her TV.

Said damn-she's-fine Japanese girl's younger sister runs into some guy who plays trombone.

The publisher's summary, found on the front flap of the dust jacket, reads thus:

These "night people" are haunted by secrets and needs that draw them together more powerfully than the differing circumstances that might keep them apart, and it soon becomes clear that Eri's slumber--mysteriously tied to the businessman plagued by the mark of his crime--will either restore or annihilate her.

Okay, fine. Except we never learn how Eri's slumber is tied to the businessman, only that it is. We don't know if it restores or annihilates her. We dont' know what becomes with this businessman. The novel ends (it doesn't resolve or conclude, it just stops): "The night has begun to open up at last. There will be time until the next darkness arrives."

Murakami, "modern master." Let's take a look at the "old" masters: Shakespeare, Dickens, Hugo, Austen. Or the great legends: The Odyssey, The Aeneid. You know what? Shakespeare's plays have a final act. Dickens' novels have a definitive conclusion. Hugo's books finalize the social injustice. Austen's novels resolve the love disputes. The Odyssey doesn't end with Odysseus landing on Ithaca; it ends with him banishing the vulture suitors to his "widowed" wife. The Aeneid doesn't end when Troy falls; it ends when Aeneas kills Turnus--but we know that Virgil didn't finish the poem, 'cause he died.

The masters resolve their loose ends, tie up their conflicts. Murakami is a great writer, but a master he is not. So the fact that he garners such high praise baffles me when you put him next to the standards. Clearly the standards have been lowered or completely schucked aside. Somewhere, we stopped caring about standards, and it leads to a disturbing dissatisfaction with the world. We, as people, crave a complete story. Story is what drives us in everything, even in a day-to-day job, it is the story of tasks assigned and completed, the triumph of providing for a family. When we ignore our deepest desire because someone once told us that there is no end, that is something wrong with the world. We need to seek an end.

I'm usually not so crass as this, but when I boil everything away, all that needs to be said is this: f*@! postmodern literature.

First Principles

Bill Vallicella (better known as the Maverick Philosopher, blog linked at right) posted this interesting tidbit on a quote attributed to Martin Luther in Table Talks. You can click on the link, but I will summarize and address my concern anyway, so you don't need to.

The quote is this: contra negantem prima principia non esse disputandum. In English: one should not dispute with those who disagree on first principles.

In context, Luther was referring to arguing with those who disagree on Biblical authority. The Maverick criticizes this take on theological debate, but goes on to apply it to the nature of truth. There is an absolute truth, and anyone who disputes that ought to be ignored, as arguing is merely a waste.

I agree with Dr. Vallicella on his second point, but I can't help but be irked at the simplistic response to the first. Luther was hardly an intellectual lightweight, and it does not seem particularly charitable to characterize this as a misapplication, and I have lately been exposed via experience to the wisdom of this quote of Luther's.

I belong to TheologyWeb where "we debate theology...seriously!" I am fascinated by apologetics, ethics and the nature of theological (and by correlation philosophical) truth. It was therefore hardly a surprise that I ended up finding myself drawn to discussions on the nature of God with Muslims, who explicity deny the Trinity and Christ's divinity. Now, I am okay with this if they are willing to debate from a Biblical foundation. The catch is that they are not.

It has been my observation that the entirety of Christian doctrine is principally a straw man Islamic construction. For example, in a thread on the Trinity, I invoked the Narnian Trilemma citing Jesus explicit and implicit claims to godhood in the Gospels, saying that Muslims could either revoke Jesus as a prophet of Islam or accept Christianity. Naturally, if they chose the former, the claim to Abrahamic succession falls flat and Muhammad becomes a standalone prophet. In response, a member effectively said "Muslims don't believe in the Gospels, so your argument doesn't count." He then went on to speak of gnostic writings and pseudepigrapha which are historically removed from the life of Jesus by at least a hundred years, whereas the Gospels are removed from Jesus by at most 50 years.

So, here is Islam saying they reject the most historically reliable sources, and when Old Testament is cited instead, they state that the Old Testament was corrupted by Jewish tradition instead of faithfulness to the actual revelation of God, therefore it was unacceptable. Try applying the same argument to the Koran, and you get shouted down because the Koran is the word of God.

I have since started to ignore any posts challenging Christian theological constructions from Muslims. When someone disputes first principles, it can be addressed such that this first principle can be shown to be true or false. (For example, I can disagree whether the Bible is true or false.) However, once a person denies first principles, it is pointless to argue with them as no argument, even from an Islamic contextual understanding (e.g. that all Biblical prophets are prophets of Islam), proves useful.

One really should not dispute with those who deny first principles. It's a waste of time.

From the Mouths of Babes

Wow, two posts in one week, let alone one day! How impressive am I today!?

The mention of "existential angst" in my previous post brought to mind something that had me suppressing my own laughter in church this past Sunday. I was using my audial aptitude and technical skills to master the sound during service (in non-geek terms: running the "sound board"), which included singing by our church's children's choir.

Now, I wish for a moment I could remember the title of the song, or even more of the lyrics, but there was something immensely humorous about hearing first- thru sixth-graders utter the words "I cannot do this alone / Say I'm forgiven." What incredible existential angst from elementary schoolers! I doubt any of them realized the gravitas of the song, or why that guy in the back who was controlling their soloists' microphones was hunched over with a gentle rolling motion running through his body from stomach to shoulders, but upon reflection, there is something more heartbreaking than humorous about this song.

These kids do not at present understand the grave theological truth that they indeed "cannot do this alone." They don't realize how true it is that their sins cry out to the Living God of their own humanity, of the brokenness they have existed in since the moment they were conceived. Now, it is heartbreaking, the human condition, but what makes this song heartbreaking is that our children do not understand. They utter empty words, they sing, and their parents smile and clap...but no one cried, and I think now crying may have been a more appropriate response to the song's sentiment.

We say we want to protect our children's innocence, but the truth is, the very concept that they are innocent is a standing fallacy, if not an outright lie. Thankfully, the gift of the Spirit and baptism (Greek baptizo, the washing) is a "gift for you and your children." Does that mean we should expose them to all the more sin? Indeed not, as Paul notes in Romans. Yet I think we ought to instill in everyone the sad truth of their being.

I will attempt to the get the lyrics to the song they sang so I can post them in the near future.

I Deny the Holy Spirit...

...Now Give Me My Free DVD!

The Blasphemy Challenge is fairly old news for the religion/philosophy blog circuit, but I've been wasting time at work today and it involved a good deal of incidental reading of material regarding it on various blogs and even news sites. I think it started at IrContent where Doug Beaumont chided the "Rational Response Squad" (the group person behind the Blasphemy Challenge) as being "too stupid for Hell" due to the apparent lack of understanding as to just what "blasphemy of the Holy Spirit" means.

First of all, blaspheming the Holy Spirit in the context it appears in the Gospels is the attribution of Jesus' divine authority to the power of Satan. That is to say Jesus drove out demons and healed people by the power of God and the direction of His omnipotent Spirit; but a blasphemer would say Jesus ordered about demons and cured diseases because the Devil gave Him this power. But there is something more to it than that, insofar as something that has been revealed as True (note capital T) is denied by one who knows it to be true. Essentially, it would be an effective an exercise of doxastic voluntarism (if such a thing can/does exist) against the One True God. It would be akin to me saying, having read Scripture, prayed, seen the work of God, come to believe and know His Truth, that He does not exist at all.

However, this post does not concern definitions and how silly the aforementioned Rational Response Squad is being. I actually wrote this fine monologue. See, the RRS says the video must explicitly state "I deny the Holy Spirit," using those exact words, to claim a free DVD of The God Who Wasn't There. If I am to read this exhortation correctly, it requires a declarative statement in that exact sentence structure. So, for anyone with a webcam who feels like getting a free DVD and perhaps subverting the Blasphemy Challenge from within, perhaps you can say this:

The God my church taught me about in Sunday school doesn't exist. He didn't pour out a million dollars when I prayed for it, even though it says "anything you ask in my name will be given to you." He doesn't "love the little children, all the children of the world." I remember the story of Noah that they taught: flooding the world, which must have involved in some dry, rocky locations flash floods, sweeping small children out of the arms of their mothers, only to dash them, terrified and screaming, against craggy rocks to instantaneous death. But that would require that book being true, which it isn't, because that god doesn't exist.

I deny the Holy Spirit.

[Beat.]

If you thought that was the end of my video, where I stared intently at the web camera as if to convey my teenage rebellion and existential angst in a moment of silent, solemn certainty, you were wrong. The God I learned about in Sunday school doesn't exist. That much is true. My God isn't a childhood image concocted to make me feel good.

He is a God of Wrath and a God of Love. He sent a flood into the world that really did dash screaming children against craggy rocks. But then He sent another child into the world, His Son. Jesus did worse than suffer instantaneous death after a brief, terrified moment. He endured agony on a cross, a crown of thorns affixed to His head, the strain on His arms tearing open the barely scabbed over wounds of being whipped as blood and sweat flowed commingling down His back, gasping for air, nails in His hands and feet. How much worse than that baby in the age of Noah!

This is not a children's story, this is not foolish. This is what is to understand reality--the need for a Creator God, further on to the need for a moral force, which requires something intensely personal. And since this world is so screwed up, it seems intellectually (and personally) convenient to think that God loves enough to save us.

Now give me my free DVD for saying "I deny the Holy Spirit."

Classics and Me

Ladies and gentlemen, honored readers, I am looking to you for advice. After letting myself wallow in cultural degeneration during the early part of this year, I have decided my book a week resolution from last year must be reborn in another form. Therefore, I am declaring this year to be The Year of Classics™. That is to say that for the remainder of the year, I shall select one well-regarded classic author per month and read selected works, preferably two or three of their better-known and/or best-regarded works. The schedule currently appears as follows:

1. January -- Not part of resolution.
2. February -- Not part of resolution
3. March -- Dostovesky Depression Month®, consisting of The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment and The Idiot
4. April -- Austen Acrimony Month®, consisting of Emma, Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice
5. May -- Tolstoy Tedium Month®, consisting of War and Peace (duh, hence the tedium) and Anna Karenina
6. June -- Someone Something Month
7. July -- Someone Something Month
8. August -- Hugo Social Justice Month® (I couldn't think of a fair synonym for Hugo's thematic sentiment that started with H), consisting of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Les Miserables and Last Days of a Condemned Man
9. September -- Someone Something Month
10. October -- Someone Something Month
11. November -- Someone Something Month
12. December -- Dickens Dreams Month®, consisting of Oliver Twist, Great Expectations and A Christmas Carol (duh, December)

What do you think? I need five authors comprising 10-15 books from the vague category "classics." Let me narrow it down. Whereas I consider writers like James Joyce to offer amazing classics, and I consider Dante Alleghieri's Divine Comedy to be a classic piece of poetry, I keep these fine authors-cum-poets off the list for specific reasons. For Joyce, it is because he is a well-regarded twentieth century author, and I would very much like to dedicate a year for twentieth century writers in the future (Rand, Joyce, Faulkner, Kerouac, et al.). And for Dante, it is because I would like to read his work in accordance with a poetry year in the future, suffused with Longfellow's Hiawatha, Milton's Paradise Lost, the Homerian epics and Virgil's Aeneid. In many ways, poetry is a whole other category to novels, despite that they are both literature.

So here is the criteria: authors from between 1500 and the early 1900's (Twain would qualify if you would think he was recommendable, but I've never actually finished one of his books, so I kept him off the list off-hand) writing on periods in that time frame, or, say, Jules Verne with sci-fi writing in that era. They must be fairly well-known to the general public, not just in academic cricles (say goodbye to most Gothic authors) and their works must be fictional novels or novellas written in prose.

Let the recommendations flow!

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue...

...Shakespeare is art,
...and Sixpence, too!

About a week ago, the fine blog Mere Comments (linked at the right) offered this post regarding love poetry through the ages. Anthony Esolen, the contributer who made the post, questioned whether his selections from the past were useful in measuring popular culture and comparing those cultures with this. I immediately cried foul when he selected What a Girl Wants (lyrics here) by Jessica Simpson as our modern representative.

The problem with bubblegum pop typified in Brittney Spears, Jessica Simpson, Jennifer Lopez and the general hip crowd c. 1999 is that their songs are mass-produced by a few common writers. My Backstreet Boys albums' liner notes list the songwriter Max Martin on almost every track from their first three discs (Backstreet Boys, Millennium and Black & Blue) before Brian Littrell took on more songwriting duties for Never Gone. Therefore, we do not consider this the poetry of the masses, but the poetry of one individual put into mass production. For true popular poetry, we have to turn to rock music, a few pop groups (Sixpence None the Richer, Five for Fighting) and even hip-hop.

Consider even further this notion: it has been 500 years since Shakespeare. What crap from his generation has been filtered out of our cultural memory over that time? More importantly, with the advent of acid-based printing in the late 18th century, the mass publication of written material went too whole new heights. Prior to this era, that which was valuable survived in quality print and nothing else. Now, anyone can print something. So, in 500 years, what musical lyrics will survive? Will Jessica Simpson be filtered out? God, I hope so. In 500 years, I want my great-great-[...]-grandchildren to know I listened to stuff like this:

I packed his books up, left the office
Went to tell the wife the news
She fell in shock, the baby kicked,
And shed a tear inside the womb
I breathe in, I breathe out
Soak the ground up with my eyes
It's hard to say a healing word
When your tongue is paralyzed
(Sixpence None the Richer, "Paralyzed," Divine Discontent, 2002)

Babies underneath their beds
(In) hospitals that cannot treat them
All the pain that money causes,
All the comfort of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children,
This is our inheritance,
All the rage of watching mothers,
This is our greatest offense
(Jars of Clay, "Oh My God," Good Monsters, 2006)

I was just guessing at numbers and figures,
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
And tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
(Coldplay, "The Scientist," A Rush of Blood to the Head, 2002)

And I am nothing of a builder,
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And I built this balustrade
To keep you home, to keep you safe
(The Decemberists, "Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect," Castaways and Cutouts, 2002)

Little boy prays to God to answer his song
To hold her hand when everyone else's are gone
Time goes by and the wounds slowly turn into scars
So he makes his final wish on the midnight stars
(Vertical Horizon, "Children's Lullaby," There and Back Again, 1992)

Meta-Ethics!

NaturalismYou scored 75 Objectivism, 68 Naturalism, and 73 Cognitivism!

There are moral facts, they can be reduced, and they can be the subjects of true or false propositions. You are probably a Naturalist. "Different philosophical doctrines travel under the heading of “naturalism.” We can usefully distinguish two broad and important categories: methodological (or M-naturalism) and substantive (or S-naturalism) (Leiter 1998; cf. Railton 1990 and Goldman 1994). Naturalism in philosophy is most often a methodological view to the effect that philosophical theorizing should be continuous with empirical inquiry in the sciences. Such a view need not presuppose a solution to the so-called “demarcation problem”—i.e., the problem of what demarcates genuine science from pseudo-science—as long as there remain clear, paradigmatic cases of successful sciences. Some M-naturalists want “continuity with” only the hard or physical sciences (Hard M-naturalists); others seek “continuity with” any successful science, natural or social (Soft M-naturalists). Soft M-naturalism is probably the dominant strand in philosophy today."

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 99% on Objectivism You scored higher than 99% on Naturalism You scored higher than 99% on Cognitivism

Link: The Meta-ethical Theories Test written by jacostyle on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

And we wonder why our kids are confused! I scored 68% on Naturalism, but I'm still a naturalist and I scored higher than 99% of my age group in all three categories.

That said, let's examine something and see if I am still a "naturalist" in regards to ethical theory:

There is an absolute, natural Moral Law that applies to all humanity vis-a-vis some god-force. That said, this god-force is necessarily good. There is no bad in it. Therefore, that Moral Law which it implanted in us could not have possibly been bad. Perhaps the Law is not to murder because of its benefit for society (bene from the Latin root for good and fit from the Latin root for act) in sustaining the population, or perhaps even for the good it does for our personal soul as it maintains our equity with human life, as social creatures we naturally crave human contact. That said, the Moral Law is in us naturally, but it is the Moral Law because it is good.

I surmise I am a cognitive naturalist. However, I believe that morality is an objective truth. It is not at all subjective. Murder is wrong no matter who you are or where you live; to Hell with the law of the land in which you are living.

Becky...

..and why her kids hate church

ThinkChristian (blog linked at right) posted this scathing commentary by music critic Lou Carlozo of the Chicago Tribune about the sad, sad state of editorial integrity in the world of Contemporary Christan Music (CCM). A commenter, in turn linked to ChristianMusicToday.com where an ongoing series of posts are dealing with a similar issue: the state of modern Christian radio.

Modern Christian radio, as we read in the second post in the series, markets to "Becky" a 40-something soccer mom with penchants for reading and simplistic volunteerism. The local station, "Spirit 105.3" KCMS even gets a nod in this post. I once listened to modern Christian radio a lot, but then I went to concerts and festivals and learned something devastatingly true, something that destroyed my thoughts of the radio station I enjoyed: there was Christian music that wasn't adult contemporary!

And they were better. And I began to detest Christian radio because it built up this absolutely stupid image of Christians in the world. I once belonged to Spirit's "listener advisory board", an open circle of people that advise Spirit on their musical programming direction. After months of complaining--via votes and ratings on songs--I couldn't understand why I still had to hear "I Can Only Imagine" three times per hour. Wasn't there another sane person out there who comprehended that this song was old after its first ten plays?

Becky wants her soccer-playing Timmy and Ashley to love Christian music, to love God even when they're not at church. But they won't, and Becky doesn't understand why. It's because Timmy and Ashley go to school, see the world, hear other music and understand that the Christian subculture is a facade for people that are just as broken as everyone else. That whole concept of "living abundantly" plays nice on paper, but Christians still go through struggles. But Becky smiles as she listens to the tacky morning show where they have kids say the Pledge of Allegiance over the air, a testament to the falsehood that her life has become: she's stressed out going to three soccer practices a week for each kid, having laundry to do, errands to run and little personal peace and quiet.

Timmy and Ashley begin to detest the Christian subculture, and they begin to realize how much it affects church itself. After all, didn't Pastor Mike say last week God has blessed them, and wants to do incredible things with them, and how joyful the life of a Christian is. Then why is Ashley crying when that cute new kid Joel dumps her? She thought life was supposed to be joyful. What rubbish! And so Timmy and Ashley hate church, because the kids who actually show up to youth group are just like their mother: two-faced, always cheery and heart-wrenchingly lost.

I eventually ended up writing the aforementioned local station this e-mail:

To be perfectly honest, when I think of a radio station for people "like me," I question what people "like me" are. In one sense, I could say this is a form letter and the entire LAB got it, in which case the responses will inevitably vary vastly from my own--I tend to disagree with the LAB on a lot of things, not the least of which is the music choices reflected in airtime for certain songs. I'm 17, and I'm a student, as are most of my friends. I'm under the impression that the vast majority of the LAB is probably 20 years older than me working 9-5 jobs with kids at home, which is fine, but leaves a broad social gap.

I do not know what I'd call a radio station designed to my tastes, but I know what I'd do with it. There is a Christian radio network called The Effect. Here in Washington, they broadcast out of Everett on KEFX 88.1 FM. They're a listener-supported radio network, meaning that the station is commercial-free, because the broadcast costs are covered by listener donations--for which they offer incentives, such as CDs as "thank you" gifts for the donation. I love the concept of listener-supported radio stations not just because of the commercial-free nature, but because it is invariably survived based upon its loyalty. If listeners like it, it will stay; if not, it'll go under. So there's the first thing: the listeners have to contribute, but not just in taste.

Secondly, as I said, I am a student by occupation. Yet, being a student isn't limited to the classroom, and this holds true for the vast majority of my youth group. My best girl friend, who incidentally is also my best friend's romantic girlfriend, used to be a leader for the Auburn chapter of Young Life. I support Young Life's ministry, but the thing is, kids are ready for something more than "Jesus loves you, let's play games" before going home. She quit because she wanted more substance to her spiritual growth. A radio station needs to be spiritually challenging and not just encouraging. Encouragement for something that is not a challenge (and yes, this is an indictment against Spirit) is useless. Students want to learn. Greg Stier gave a talk at Creation Fest West this year about this concept, citing the Mormon practice of morning seminary for high school students where they are taught Mormon theology.

I want a radio station that isn't 90% music, 10% "let's pray together." I love good music, sure, and praying together is an awesome spiritual act, but I'd love talk shows where listeners can call in, DJ's with serious spiritual knowledge, to discuss what is going on in the Church, to learn their faith inside-and-out, and talk shows addressing social issues from a Church perspective--not from a politically driven perspective, but just looking at Scripture, knowing that the Church is about the Gospel, not the law, and looking at our stance on things. Something on the entertainment and theological level of The Wittenburg Door in broadcast form. Something that says as Christians we can accept homosexuals because homosexuality is but a symptom of the fallen world, of sin, and we need to address the deeper, spiritual issue at hand, while at the same time say "gay marriage is not okay because it's not in accordance with Scripture." The faith is a paradox, it's a challenge, and a good radio station should reflect that.

Finally, let's talk about the music. About 10 years ago or so, KOMO AM 1000, the radio sister station to KOMO 4 News on TV, didn't do all news and traffic and talk. They used to play music, too with news and talk. That's what a good radio station should be. Something that's just as stimulating as it is entertaining. So, the music, to be honest, needs to come from a more diverse artist group than Sparrow Recording artists. There are two Christian music charts, right? I can't remember the two, but what if a station actually gave airtime to both. I want bands from Tooth & Nail Records played on a station: Anberlin, Pillar, Seventh Day Slumber, Brave Saint Saturn (by the way, love having Caroline on Spirit), or bands from Fervent Records like Exit East or even rappers like KJ-52, Big Unc, the classic Gospel Gangstaz. And I want Michael W. Smith and Jars of Clay and Sixpence None the Richer. I just don't want them on mutually exclusive segments of programming. They should be inerspersed. Don't limit Anberlin to Saturday nights with Mike and Matt or that Studio B program you have now.

Christian music is so much broader than what people actually realize, and good music even goes beyond record labels. There's a band called Vertical Horizon signed to Hybrid Recordings, used to be signed to RCA, and listening to any number of their songs and you notice such an underlying Christian theme to the songs. If the Church wants to break down the wall between Christians and culture, it needs to look at even what culture has that is good. Why not play good Christian music and acceptable secular music, music that didn't discourage the Christian lifestyle or support something other than it, but music that pointed to a Christian lifestyle?

And speaking of the music, don't cut out the electric guitars. I believe in artist purity. There is something wrong with Audio Adrenaline's Hands and Feet played with violins. There's no audio adrenaline to it. Or Sanctus Real's Everything About You stripped of its screaming energy on the vocal bridge. And on LMP, don't limit it to worship groups from different churches. In 2001, Overlake Christian Church put on a New Year's Eve party. They had local bands there. One of them, I remember very vivivdly, was called Shale. They were an incredible band, but they weren't a worship group. They were like a local Switchfoot (better than Switchfoot in my opinion), and I doubt I'd ever hear them on LMP. Or Cloud2Ground, sure, they're electronica, very free form lyrics, but at the end of every symphony, Mozart wrote two words: Laus Deo. It's Latin for "Praise to the Lord!" The most abstract art is still worshipful, like a Lincoln Brewster guitar solo.

To be honest, a lot of this is why I rarely listen to Spirit anymore. I don't want a baby faith. I want an effectual faith. Stimulating and entertaining, challenging and encouraging, are not mutually exclusive. We need a radio station for my generation that can be both. Our battle in this "culture war" isn't against the people or what's going on with them. It's Spiritual. "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12)

With all this in mind, maybe we could steal from Mike Yaconelli's magazine and call this station The Door, like The Wittenburg Door, the place where Martin Luther stepped up and challenged something that he knew was wrong with Catholicism at the time, where someone stood against fallacy for the sake of scripture, and at the same time challenged a generation to take up their own faith instead of the faith of the priest to intercede for them, but also a door--a door between Church and culture, a door to Heaven in the metaphorical sense, and a door to a far deeper knowledge of the Lord.

We have met the enemy...

...and he is us.

The Maverick Philosopher (blog linked to the right) pointed me toward this article at the New English Review on the evil of humanity. A particularly poignant quote:

I would once have taken the opening sentence of Adam Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments for a truism:

"How selfish soever man may be supposed, there is evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure of seeing it."
But now I no longer think it is even a truth, let alone a truism. I would be more inclined to write:

"How good soever man may be supposed, there is evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the suffering of others… etc., etc."

However, at the same time, I read this post at Signs of the Times (also linked on the right). Another poignant quote:

The enemy...is evil with its expansive kingdom...with [its] disposition inclined toward the domination of others and the exaltation of the self, barely able to see what is true and good. (emphasis added)

Dr. Dalrymple is moved by a shattered world to believe that man is evil. That the existence of evil is the existence of man and man is evil given flesh, that there is no natural good in him, despite what we might like to think of him. In other words, man is essentially inseparable from evil. (Here we must note that "essentially" is derived from the word "essence," meaning the core reality of a being.)

Thankfully, Matt over at the Crux Project knows something else. Man is not evil. Evil is the enemy of man, the thing that we have been at war with since the dawn of time. Further, he notes that evil is aware of "what is true and good." This recalls to mind a passage from the book of James: You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe--and shudder! (James 2:19, ESV) Demons recognize good. They recognize the truth of one God, and they shudder. They shudder because judgment is coming and they live in open rebellion, by choice. They shudder because they hate truth; they hate what is good.

But man does not hate what is good and what is true. Man is fallen, and to be fallen, there had to be a point from which he fell. Man has a natural state that is free from evil, free from all its deceptions. I believe in man's total depravity. But this is not his essential nature. Man was not made this way. The modern man is born into it, but man is not merely the physical body which goes through birth and death. Man is soul, man is spirit. And though the soul comes with the body, though the spirit enters into sin with the body, we know that eternally, man is not like this. He has fallen from grace into it.

So we turn to the cross. Jesus was 100% man and 100% God. If he led a sinless life, he did not do it simply as God. He did it frought with all the temptations and weariness of man as well. There is something essential in Christ that is also essential in us. If humanity is de facto evil, then Christ would have been as well. But this is not the case. Man is de jure evil--by the Law. The Law is there to convict us of our wrong. We disobeyed once God's command, and therefore we are evil. It is not a matter of fact; it is a matter of consequence.

We continually subsist in this state by our actions, by our choice. Our actions are contrarian, and they force evil upon us. But without these choices made, we are not evil. Unfortunately, having made the choice once, we continue to make it over and over again. Thankfully, we can see what is good and true: that 2000 years ago, on a small hill overlooking the city of Jerusalem, one man, one God, surrendered His blameless life on a cross, and by His choice, we are de jure made whole again.

We live in a fallen world. We are evil, disgusting creatures. Thankfully, we are not necessarily so. This can be separated from our nature by the blood of Christ.

Indeed it is true: "When our depravity meets His divinity, it is a beautiful collision." ~David Crowder

New Year's Resolutions

It is now the year 2007, and as such it is time to come up with resolutions, goals to obtain in the coming year. But before I do that, I would like to do a review of my 2006 resolutions:

1. Read one book per week.
   
   This resolution was intended as a means to edify myself in various disciplines. I read some philosophy, some sociology and a lot of fiction, but I predominantly read Christian works: studies of the church, commentary on Christianity and "spiritual autobiographies" (my favorite, of course, being Blue Like Jazz, which was the first book I read last year).
   
   Did I achieve the resolution? Strictly speaking, no. Not only did I fail at reading one book PER week but I did not even read one book FOR every week of the year. That is, I didn't even read 52 different books.
   
   However, in many respects, I consider this resolution to be successful. Much like we talk about "letter of the law" versus "spirit of the law," I can speak of the spirit behind the resolution. I easily read over 40 books this year, and I consider that an achievement in its own right. I consider myself bettered because of this effort. I learned history from Citizen Soldiers and Team of Rivals. I had my Christian view put in check by Blue Like Jazz and Total Truth. There are of course many other books I read, including finally finishing the Star Wars New Jedi Order series, which strongly dives into philosophical and political implications in the Force and the Jedi.
2. Learn to play the piano.
   
   Unequivocally a failure.
3. Enroll in a four-year college.
   
   A failure. Partly my own fault for not following up on something filed with Decatur, and partly Decatur's fault for mismanagement of the request filed with them. This is hands down the most disappointing reality of 2006.

On to the resolutions for 2007:

1. To read the complete Summa Theologica of St. Thomas Aquinas.
   
   Luckily, I wll not need to buy this in a ridiculous set of a dozen or so volumes for a few hundred dollars. On the contrary, it is completely available online, along with countless other theological resources.
2. Once again, I am resolving to learn to play the piano.
   
   This time I might just do it.
3. Start a fairly consistent running/exercise pattern.
   
   I had originally intended to run 30 minutes every week day, but upon review I can say pretty definitively that this will not happen, and even if it did, it doesn't seem entirely practical. As I improve in running, the distance I run in a half hour improves, whereas the calories I burn remain mostly static.
4. Enroll in some four-year college, preferably Seattle U or Gonzaga, fairly local Jesuit schools for which I have much respect academically. Plus, their core curriculum includes theology classes.
   
   This does not mean I will start classes this year, merely that I am enrolled so that I may start classes. Ergo, I may start attending in 2008. But by 2007, my name will be on a student list at a four-year school.
5. Finish a full manuscript of a standalone work.
   
   I have written what seems like dozens of books, mostly for series, most of which I have scrapped or given up on or (in the case of what would undoubtedly be my most successful commercially excepting publishing) handed off to a partner. I intend to finish a complete novel this year that is not part of a series.
6. Begin keeping a journal/diary of sorts.
   
   If you think about it, most famous or respected invidiuals have memoirs or chronicles of their non-public life. C. S. Lewis' letters to friends have been compiled in various volumes. Winston Churchill's World War II chronicles are highly respected. Nietzche's random thoughts became Gay Science. I do not intend to be dishonest. There was a time I was arrogant, and I am past that, but I am still far from perfectly humble and still ambitious. One day, I hope to be famous or at the very least well-respected in whatever field I end up going into. Therefore, I am writing this for the sake of posterity. I am not perfect, I am not humble and I do not intend to disguise it.
7. To, in all things, aim to please God first and society second and myself last.
   
   This may seem like it should be "Number One," but I saved it for last to remind myself that this should always be the end of my actions. Also, it is number seven, God's holy number.

This seems to be a particularly ambitious year for me, not to mention incredibly challenging. I implore anyone who reads this blog to hold me accountable. Check on the status of new applications to colleges. Ask me about my exercise regimen. Call me out when I am acting in a matter unbecoming of a Christian. When we're around a piano, ask me to play something I've learned. (If I haven't learned anything, obviously how embarrassing!) Ask for updates on my writing. Ask about interesting things in my life so I will remember to write them in my journal.

Cheap Shots Holiday Edition

Most of these will have absolutely nothing to do with "the holidays."

• Y'all know about Canada? That country north of here we all pretend to like, but as soon as they're out of earshot we immediately go back to assessing how fantastically irrelevent they are? Yeah, well, their Prime Minister is awesome--the lone voice of sanity in a sea of diplomatic posturing. See why here. Soundbite: Stephen. Harper. Is. My. Hero.
• Youth Specialties gets noticed by CBS. Last time a packed Christian event was in the mainstream media news (reference GodMen in the previous Cheap Shots), it wasn't so pretty, and it looks like another comment war arose at CBS. The chase: To my fellow Christians: will the real apologist please stand up; the rest of you, just shut up--it's kinda embarrassing.
• ThinkChristian has an interesting letter from God about the "War on Christmas." Fascinatingly, the author apparently wasn't quite as inspired as St. Paul. Otherwise, he may have known that putting Christmas in place of a pagan holiday is one of many theories about the date's origin. For next time: Wikipedia is your friend.
• The bookstore at which I am employed sold a book to Anne Rice. Yes, that Anne Rice. But, in case you don't know, she is now this Anne Rice. For the gossip page of People: she ordered a 1908 edition of the classic Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ.
• It is now 2:30 AM on Friday, December 22nd which means the Uganda mission team is on their way home. So far as I've heard, there have been no deaths, Tanner (unfortunately) is not returning with tribal tattoos and extended ears and 'Dra did not get to adopt her foreign child.

This concludes this edition of Cheap Shots. Tune in next time (whenever that is) to find out about the things you already learned from the local news channel.

Miscommunication in Tips

I was at Starbucks today and left a $0.96 tip for the baristas. I had ordered a grande white chocolate mocha, totalling a bill of $4.04 and thus the $0.96 was my change. Therefore, when you consider that you tack gratuity before tax, I had tipped nearly 25%. No. I had tipped more than that. This is a ridiculous percentage, especially for those drink monkeys at Starbucks who aren't waiters at Black Angus.

Ah, and here is the point of this whole thought process: tipping is not gratuity. There is a grave misconception in the service sector that a person who does not leave a tip is a dick. But, frankly, why should he leave a tip? He has paid for his order and has every reason in the world to believe that his server (barista, waiter or whatever) is being reimbursed for services rendered by the establishment. That is to say, the server is an employee and therefore paid for the work they are doing by the employer.

The word "gratuity" is derived from the Latin word gratia, which is literally translated as "grace." Any hack can define grace as "unmerited approval." Nothing merits "gratia." You don't earn grace. You do not earn a tip. A tip is something given out of the genuine compassion of an individual.

Why, then, do we have a "customary" tip level? Because somehow grace became a social institution. For some bizarre reason a person is expected to be kind with his money even if he can bark at a waitress for getting his order wrong. Getting an order wrong earns no tip, but getting an order right--something the waitress is already paid to do--earns her extra cash. There is something wrong here.

And I think I know what's wrong. The whole idea of customary tipping is based on a--wait for it--Christian view of society. For 1500 years in Europe, Christianity was the unquestioned supreme religion. Islamic imperialism knocked on the doors a few times, even overran a good deal of Christendom (it's Istanbul, not Constantinople), but Christianity remained at the heart--both physically and metaphorically--of Europe and therefore the Western world.

Central to the worldview cultivated by this society was that a person, Christian or not, lived in a state of perpetual grace. They were given life that they did not deserve, got a day of life-giving rain they did not deserve, and a day of sunshine to dry the wet land that they did not deserve. The response to such divine benevolence was to respond in kind by imitating that grace and bestowing on others that which they did not deserve, such as a tip for services rendered.

And then came this strange age in which the whole of Christian philosophy is swept aside, but the social institutions it left behind are gobbled up by the secularists.

I am not sure what this all means, but it is thoughts I have on "tipping." I never calculate a tip because I think it's an insult to the concept of gratia.