How 'bout some folk music?

I was reading an article and it was kinda cool. So I'm sharing it.

Here's the first video mentioned in the article:



Here's the second:



I especially like the line in "Roots" "And we learn to be ashamed before we walk, of the way we look and the way we talk." That's what multiculturalism does. It's not about appreciating other cultures it's about being ashamed of your Western cultural roots.

I can't believe I hear people say things to the effect of "Yeah, they may have believed that at the time the Bible was written but it is impossible to believe in this day and age." As if time makes any difference in what's true or not!

But seriously shouldn't we be more credulous in this age when what was impossible yesterday may just be possible, and even simple today or tomorrow?

And, when you give it serious thought do you think the people in first-century Judea were really unaware, for instance that it was impossible for a virgin to conceive? It sure seems like Mary was aware of that. Joseph too, for that matter.

The only reason they believe miracles and we don't is that we have long ago written off miracles. We can explain everything. And if we can't explain it; it didn't happen. Because we really understand why physics works. And why we're here. And all the rest.

Chicken fried

You know I like my chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up

Well I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine
And that`s home you know
Sweet tea pecan pie and homemade wine
Where the peaches grow
And my house it`s not much to talk about
But it`s filled with love that`s grown in southern ground
And a little bit of chicken fried

(Chorus)

Well its funny how it`s the little things in life that mean the most
Not where you live or the car you drive or the price tag on your clothes
There`s no dollar sign on a piece of mind this I`ve come to know
So if you agree have a drink with me
Raise you glasses for a toast
To a little bit of chicken fried

(Chorus)

I thank God for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring.
Salute the ones who died
The ones that give their lives so we don`t have to sacrifice
All the things we love
Like our chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I`ve seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman`s eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother`s love

-The Zac Brown Band, Chicken Fried; Here's the music video.

The bolded text shocked me the first time I heard it. My goodness, is he saying he's glad people died so that he could have the following things?!?! Obviously, it's figurative- they didn't die for that. All the same it would appear that he is saying it was for that lifestyle, etc. How pathetic, doesn't he know that they died for freedom, and justice, and humanity?

Then again, what does that even mean? Those are abstractions. Maybe it's better to die for chicken fried.

Utilizing words

A pet peeve of mine is people who employ the word "utilize" when they could save a few syllables and use "use." Not that it matters any more, but they aren't the same.
I found this on Dictionary.com

tr.v. u·til·ized, u·til·iz·ing, u·til·iz·es
To put to use, especially to find a profitable or practical use for.
Usage Note: A number of critics have remarked that utilize is an unnecessary substitute for use. It is true that many occurrences of utilize could be replaced by use with no loss to anything but pretentiousness, for example, in sentences such as They utilized questionable methods in their analysis or We hope that many commuters will continue to utilize mass transit after the bridge has reopened. But utilize can mean "to find a profitable or practical use for." Thus the sentence The teachers were unable to use the new computers might mean only that the teachers were unable to operate the computers, whereas The teachers were unable to utilize the new computers suggests that the teachers could not find ways to employ the computers in instruction.

Does it matter? Not in the grand scheme of things. Do I care? You bet your fuzzy pink socks I do!

Thank you and goodnight,
Sarah R, Deputy Commander, Vocabulary Police

Whose wish?

"'I see,' said John, 'But what was the second interpretation?'
'In the second,' said Reason, 'the bridge signifies the giant's own favorite doctrine of the wish-fulfillment dream. For this he also wishes to use and not to use.'
'I don't see how he wishes not to use it'
'Does he not keep on telling people that the Landlord is a wish-fulfillment dream?'
'Yes. Surely that is true- the only true thing he did say.'
'Now, think. Is it really true that the giant and Sigismund, and the people in Eschropolis, and Mr. Halfways, are going about filled with a longing that there should be a Landlord, and cards of rules, and a mountain land beyond that brook, with a possibility of a black hole?'
Then John stood still in the road to think. And first he gave a shake of his shoulders, and then he began to laugh until he was almost shaken to pieces. And when he had nearly finished, the vastness and impudence and simplicity of the fraud which had been practiced came over him all again, and he laughed harder. And just when he had nearly recovered and was beginning to get his breath again, suddenly he had a picture in his mind of Victoriana and Glugly and Gus Halfways and how they would look if a rumour reached them that there was a Landlord and he was coming to Eschropolis. This was too much for him, and he laughed so hard that the broken chains of the Spirit of the Age fell off his wrists altogether. But all the while Reason sat and watched him
'You had better hear the rest of the argument,' she said at last, 'It may not be such a laughing matter as you suppose.'
'Oh yes- the argument, said John, wiping his eyes.
'You see now the direction in which the giant does not want the wish-fulfillment theory used?'
'I'm not sure that I do,' said John.
'Don't you see what follows if you adopt his own rules?'
'No,' said John very loudly: for a terrible apprehension was stealing over him.
'But you must see,' said Reason, 'that for him and all his subjects disbelief in the Landlord is a wish-fulfillment dream.'
'I shall not adopt his rules.'
'You would be foolish not to have profited at all by your stay in his country,' said Reason, 'There is some force in the wish-fulfillment doctrine.'
'Some, perhaps, but very little.'
'I only wanted to make it clear that whatever force it had was in favour of the Landlord's existence, not against it- specially in your case.'
'Why specially in mine?' said John sulkily.
'Because the Landlord is the thing you have been most afraid of all your life. I do not say that any theory should be accepted because it is disagreeable, but if any should, then belief in the Landlord should be accepted first.'" C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim's Regress, Book 4, Chapter IV

To reason or not to reason

"In the warmth of the afternoon they went on again, and it came into John's mind to ask the lady the meaning of her second riddle.
'It has two meanings,' said she, 'and in the first the bridge signifies Reasoning. The Spirit of the Age wishes to allow argument and not to allow argument.'
'How is that?'
'You heard what they said. If anyone argues with them they say that he is rationalizing his own desires, and therefore need not be answered. But if anyone listens to them they will argue themselves to show that their own doctrines are true.'
'I see. And what is the cure for this?'
'You must ask them whether any reasoning is valid or not. If they say no, then their own doctrines, being reached by reasoning, fall to the ground. If they say yes, then they will have to examine your arguments and refute them on their merits: for if some reasoning is valid, for all they know, your bit of reasoning may be one of the valid bits.'"
C. S. Lewis, The Pilgrim's Regress, Book 4, Chapter IV

What is the colour of things in the dark?

"'You said that there were two things to say,' said John, 'What was the second?'
'The second was this. Did you think that the things you saw in the dungeon were real: that we really are like that?'
'Of course I did. It is only our skin that hides them.'
'Then I must ask you the same question that I asked the giant. What is the colour of things in the dark?'
'I suppose no color at all.'
'And what of their shape? Have you any notion of it save as what could be seen or touched, or what you could collect from many seeing and touchings?'
'I don't know that I have.'
'Then do you not see how the giant has deceived you?'
'Not quite clearly.'
'He showed you by a trick what our inwards would look like if they were visible. That is, he showed you something that is not, but something that would be if the world were made all other than it is. But in the real world our inwards are invisible. They are not coloured shapes at all, they are feelings. The warmth in your limbs at this moment, the sweetness of your breath as you draw it in, the comfort in your belly because we breakfasted well, and your hunger for the next meal- these are the reality: all the sponges and tubes you saw in the dungeon are the lie.'
'But if I cut a man open I should see them in him.'
'A man cut open is, so far, not a man: and if you did not sew him up speedily you would be seeing not organs, but death. I am not denying that death is ugly: but the giant made you believe that life is ugly.'
'I cannot forget the man with the cancer.'
'What you saw was unreality. The ugly lump was the giant's trick: the reality was pain which has no colour or shape.'
'Is that much better?'
'That depends on the man.'
'I think I begin to see.'
'Is it surprising that things should look strange if you see them as they are not? If you take an organ out of a man's body- or a longing out of the dark part of a man's mind- and give to the one shape and colour, and to the other the self-consciousness, which they never have in reality, would you expect them to be other than monstrous?'
'Is there, then, no truth at all in what I saw under the giant's eyes?'
'Such pictures are useful to physicians.'
'Then I really am clean,' said John. 'I am not- like those.'
Reason smiled, 'There, too,' she said, 'there is truth mixed up with the giant's conjuring tricks. It will do you know harm to remember from time to time the ugly sights inside. You come of a race that cannot afford to be proud.'" C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim's Regress, Book 4, Chapter III

Scheduled Posts

From henceforward I shall make scheduled posts whenever I feel like it. This way I can save up material instead of dumping it all at once. So I tell blogger when I want it to post a post and it does so.
No, I did not get up at 4:30 to make this post.

Brief Update

On Resident Aliens, I read chapter 2 and it is becoming evident that it's a liberal book, but I still think there are quite a few pearls of wisdom in there. It is somewhat a matter of presuppositions, though; it's the sort of thing where you'll tend to read in your own views when the author is using words quite differently.

My little sister meanwhile is a budding classics scholar, she said something like this the other day, "Aeneas is the slave of duty, just like Frederick from Pirates of Penzance."

Worth noting

``Sir Jasper Finch-Farrowmere?'' said Wilfred.
``ffinch-ffarrowmere,'' corrected the visitor, his sensitive ear detecting the capitals." P.G Wodehouse, A Slice of Life

If you don't know the mistakes of the present you're doomed to...?

The most appalling thing about reading history or at least about reading a good history is that you discover that people don't think the same way now that they used to, and back then they didn't think the same way as their ancestors. It makes you somewhat suspect that perhaps Reason isn't Supreme after all. I mean, the ancients had reason, the medievals had reason, and the enlightenment philosophers had reason, but reason never brought them to the same point.
The frightening thing is that we can't see the past the way those living in it saw it, and we never will. It makes you wonder if you're just a product of your age just as they were products of theirs. Then you say "Nah" and go back to watching the presidential debate.
Postmoderns would say that there's no way out. You're trapped. You can't think differently if you try, and you're not to be blamed, unless you are a white, male, capitalist oppressor. That is your fault.
But if you really know your history, it will do something for you. You may be able to see more than just the mistakes of the past. You may see the mistakes of the present.
Oh, and back to my other point about Reason. A modern examining the past ought to despair because he has been led to believe that it is pure Reason that makes him think what he thinks. He may, if he is honest, discover that it isn't.

Real Christianity

I've been reading bits and pieces of a book we have floating around our house called Resident Aliens, which claims in it's subtitle to be "A provocative Christian assessment of culture and ministry for people who know that something is wrong," and it may well be just that. I've only made it through the first chapter and so far it's been insightful. I know nothing about it's authors, had never heard about it before, but it's first chapter is certainly enough to keep me reading. I'll probably post more about it; it's quite quotable.

Who cares, modern theologians asked, whether or not Jesus walked on water, or Moses split the Red Sea, or Christ bodily rose from the dead? The important matter is not these prescientific thought forms but the existential reality beneath them. Everything must be translated into existentialism in order to be believed. Today, when existentialism has fallen out of fashion, the modern theologian is more likely to translate everything into Whiteheadian process theology, the latest psychoanalytic account, or Marxist analysis to make it believable.

"We have come to see that this project, though well intentioned is misguided. The theology of translation assumes that there is some kernel of real Christianity, some abstract essence that can be preserved even while changing some of the old Near Eastern labels. Yet such a view distorts the nature of Christianity. In Jesus we meet not a presentation of basic ideas about God, worlds, and humanity, but an invitation to join up, to become part of a movement, a people. By the very act of our modern theological attempts at translation, we have unconsciously distorted the gospel and transformed it into something it never claimed to be- ideas abstracted from Jesus, rather than Jesus with his people." Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon

Objective Observer, my foot!

I'm reading Winston Churchill's History of the English Speaking Peoples and finding that, regardless of anything, I'm loyal to jolly old England (at least so far-I suppose that'll change when the US comes on the scene.) Anyway, I can't help but wonder at how different the world would look to me if I were raised in France, or Italy, or Russia, or anywhere but here.

I suppose it's the same thing that goes on during the Olympics. I still want the US to win. I don't think I could help it if I tried. I can despise our government, hate our stupidity, look down on most of our citizens, but I couldn't really hate the whole thing if I tried. And if I was in a foreign country for an extended period of time, I don't suppose much would make happier than meeting another American. Funny how that works.

There was certainly a bit of arrogance in the Renaissance that was so quick to dub the years preceding it the "Middle Ages" as if everything was leading up to the time directly following them and there's a similar arrogance in so-called postmodernism. How do we know that this is where things are going? In any case I would be surprised if future generations think the line between modern and postmodern is a bit blurry or perhaps non-existent, since today all the years through the 17th century are often cavalierly lumped together into the Middle Ages.

A Song - Thomas Carew

This is a convenient place for dumping poems I like so I don't forget them.

A Song

ASK me no more where Jove bestows,

When June is past, the fading rose ;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day ;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale, when May is past ;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars 'light,
That downwards fall in dead of night ;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The phoenix builds her spicy nest ;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

"'How wonderful,' says the poet, 'is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!' And having asked whether Ianthe will wake again and being assured that she will, he proceeds to weave many beautiful thoughts about Ianthe's sleep. From this we may fairly deduce that he (like Henry who kneeled in silence by her couch) felt tenderly toward Ianthe. For another person's sleep is the acid test to our own sentiments. Unless we are savages we react kindly to death, whether of friend or enemy. It does not exasperate us; it does not tempt us to throw things at it; we do not find it funny. Death is the ultimate weakness, and we dare not insult it. But sleep is only the illusion of weakness and, unless it appeals to our protective instincts, is likely to arouse in us a nasty, bullying spirit. From a height of conscious superiority we look down on the sleeper, thus exposing himself in all his frailty, and indulge in derisive comment on his appearance, his manners and (if the occasion is a public one) the absurdity of the position in which he has placed his companion, if he has one, and particularly if we are that companion." -Dorothy Sayers, Gaudy Night

Anglicans have more fun

It is often a lot of fun to read a book by an Anglican/Episcopalian author (Dorothy Sayers' books, or even Jan Karon's Mitford series) because liturgy ends up in the mouths of the characters. Occasionally I even recognize it because we sometimes use the same prayers in our church, although I'm sure an actual Anglican would catch more references. Anyway it gives one the feeling of a sort of "in-joke" as well as making one see that, since they have scripture and prayer always on the tip of their tongue (no matter how interesting the application must be) that liturgy cannot be all bad.

A quote from (the fictional) Lord Peter Wimsey: "I have the most ill-regulated memory. It does those things which it ought not to do and leaves undone that which it ought to have done. But it has not yet gone on strike altogether."

The italicized portion is adapted from a prayer of confession. Typing it out, after the last 'done,' I nearly typed 'And there is no health in us.' which is what comes next.

For pondering

I'm currently reading the book Original Sin by P. D. James. It's a mystery novel and a good one at that. James is brilliant really. She brings out human misery so naturally; I'd have to say she's got a very good grasp of the human condition really. Anyway, a paragraph about belief that caught my eye, this from the perspective of a Jewish police officer.

"His mother, of course, would never bring herself to say, 'I don't care whether you believe or disbelieve, I want you to be here with us on the Sabbath. I want you to be seen in the synagogue with your father and brother.' And it wasn't intellectual dishonesty, although he tried to tell himself that it was. You could argue that few adherents of any religion believed all the dogma of their faith except the fundamentalists and, God knew, they were a bloody sight more dangerous than any non-believer. God knew. How natural it was an how universal to slip into the language of faith. And perhaps his mother was right, although she would never bring herself to speak the truth. The outward forms were important. To practice religion wasn't only a matter of intellectual assent. To be seen in synagogue was to proclaim: This is where I stand, these are my people, these are the values by which I try to live, this is what generations of my forebears have made me, this is what I am. He remembered his grandfather's words, spoken to him after his bar mitzvah: 'What is a Jew without his belief? What Hitler could not do to us shall we do to ourselves?' The old resentments welled up. A Jew wasn't even allowed his atheism. Burdened with guilt from childhood, he couldn't reject his faith without feeling the need to apologize to the God he no longer believed in. It was always there at the back of his mind, silent witness of his apostasy, that moving army of naked humanity, the young, the middle-aged, the elderly, flowing like a dark tide into the gas chambers."

One Good Reason to Sing the Psalms

The warnings of Psalm 78 still apply today, but we don't know the warnings of Psalm 78 because we don't know the Psalms. Hmm.

Surprised by Joy

"In reading Chesterton, as in reading MacDonald, I did not know what I was letting myself i for. A young man who wishes to remain a sound atheist cannot be too careful of his reading. There are traps everywhere-- 'Bibles laid open, millions of surprises,' as Herbert says, 'fine nets and stratagems.' God is, if I may say it, very unscrupulous."

I just finished reading Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis's telling of his early life. It's very interesting (and closely related to his book The Pilgrim's Regress). It isn't child friendly actually, because Lewis's life was not G rated. But it's full of insights and quotable quotes like the above. It's definitely worthwhile in helping to understand how the great man thought.