U2: 3D 2B Again

I wanted to write further on U2, having provided a cursory review of the movie U23D in my last post.

I just can't emphasize the effect this group has had on me over the past 20 years. I was a sophomore in high school when The Joshua Tree came out. "With or Without You" had been their big hit from that album, but I was drawn to the two follow-up songs: "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and "Where the Streets Have No Name," particularly the latter's incredible music video which featured a spontaneous concert on a Los Angeles rooftop.

Prior to The Joshua Tree the other great album of 1986-87 had been Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet. My friends and I spent hours listening to that one, and it set off a four year indulgence of hair-metal fandom. U2 gave me a chance to break away.

Here's why. In the way that every Bon Jovi or Def Leppard song was designed to stimulate my teenage hormones (granted, a relatively easy goal to achieve in 1987), U2's songs reached to the heart. In frequent moments of teen angst, I often retired to my living room, put The Joshua Tree in the stereo, turned out the lights, and felt my soul restored.

What was it about this music? Frankly Bono's voice wasn't the strongest in rock 'n roll (and his mullet hairdo was pathetic by 80s standards). U2 were a basic, four-piece band--without the regular keyboardist or two-necked, tricked-out guitars of other 80s rock groups. The Edge had a gift for soaring guitar solos and clever riffs--but he wasn't in a league with Eddie Van Halen or the guy from AC/DC.

I think that part of this was the songs--particularly those on The Joshua Tree where the production created layers of sound (including synthesizers) through which The Edge's riffs could dance and on which Bono's lyrics sailed. For some reason, this small group of Irishmen had crafted the greatest song ever written about Martin Luther King, Jr. (Pride) and the definitive post-modern spiritual, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

But an even more crucial element to the band's success was their prowess as a live group. They brought much more to a concert than any band of their era--this must have been what grabbed me about the "Streets" video, something I didn't recognize at the time.

That is why U23D is such a revelation. It is The World's Greatest Rock Band meets The World's Greatest 3D Spectacle. It is a union that pulled a lot of things together for me--about U2 and their music; about myself and my own deepest fears and desires.

Most of the reviews I read focued on the 3D tricks the movie used. Words fly off the stage and hypnotize the audience. The neck of Adam Clayton's base shakes in front of your nose like a wagging finger. Bono reaches out of the screen to draw you into the song.

I was more fascinated by the performance aspect. This was my second U2 concert film (I saw Rattle and Hum in theaters back in 1989), but the first full-length performance by the band I had witnessed. I remembered leaving Rattle and Hum and thinking, "I feel like I've been at church."

What a church it had been. Bono has that ability--all too rare among preachers but more common among rock stars--to deliver every word he says without the slightest hint of doubt or self-awareness.

The songs themselves focus unwaveringly on humanity. One reason reason U2 have stayed together for so long is because the message has always remained larger than the band. Whether they were protesting British police brutality in Northern Ireland in "Sunday Bloody Sunday," through the military excesses of Reagan's America in "Bullet the Blue Sky" to promoting alternatives to the madness of "pre-emptive war" in the present day.

The most significant set in U23D focused on the war/humanity theme. "New Year's Day" kicked off the set. I found myself thinking during this song about my New Year's tradition as a blogger: posting a video of "40." Yet here was another song, "New Year's Day," that seemed equally important. "I will be with you again," merges into "I, I will begin again" in the performances (I haven't found this switch in the recordings.

It's a great New Year's song. It's about renewal. It's post-modern spirituality at its most eloquent.

At the close of the song, Bono got a headband from the audience and put it on. "Coexist," it read, featuring the symbols of Islam, Judaism, and Christianity (see graphic). That moved the group into "Sunday Bloody Sunday." One thing I like about U2 is that they move around the stage well. (This stage features two arms that reach out into the audience.) At the end of "SBS," the drummer, Larry Mullen moved to the end of one of the arms where he played "Love and Peace" on a small drumset that had just one big drum and a cymbal. It was an awesome way to get some attention to the band's founder and key player instead of keeping him hid behind the drum set.

The most meaningful song of the movie for me was the Grammy-winning "Sometimes You Can't Make it One Your Own." Bono dedicated this song to his dad, and he delivered it without his trademark, wrap-around shades--virtually naked, if you will.

I had always interpreted this song in the context of a male-female relationship, but in this new context it became three-dimensional for me. "We fight all the time, you and I, we're the same soul," it says. As Bono sang, an image of a faceless company man appeared, walking in place on the five-story-tall board behind the stage. Bono's image was projected next to it--a lost son, singing to a father who died four years ago.

This was the most moving part of the concert for me. It made me think of my own complicated relationship with my daughter--of the distances that grow between people who should be close in spirit. Later it led to a fun conversation with Jenny about what it might have been like to raise a Bono back in the day!

The movie closed with a moving rendition of "Yahweh," accompanied by a cool cartoon that played in front of the screen, bringing together the themes of the show: humanity, coexistence, love. It was a powerful coda. As the screen went dark, we could hear Bono closing the concert in his traditional way: "Thank you. We will never forget this...ever. Thank you so very much."

It was I who was thankful, believe me.

I'll close with a link to a video of "Yahweh."

Man, I'm Old!

Yesterday was my birthday.

No wait, all of you know that. Some of you know that because you have loved me for a long, long time (thanks Norman, Julie, Mommily and others).

More of you know that because I am on Facebook and MySpace, community forums which publish my birthday and e-mail it to all of my friends. Honestly, I have never had so many happy birthday wishes. Umpteen discussion forums sent me automated e-mails. Marcos Madrid wished me happy birthday, which showed that he had finally forgiven me for giving him a failing grade in English his senior year at Superior High School (class of 1998).

I spent the day teaching--when your birthday is January 28, there is nothing to do outside of working a shivering in your bed. In the evening, Jenny took me to see U2-3D at the IMAX in Nashville. It was an awesome show and something that I completely enjoyed. I may write more about this experience later.

Today was my first chance to feel really old, though. Owen was talking about Lego Bionicles--his favorite toy, and his most recent obsession. He wanted to find out what Legos were like when I was a boy.

"Daddy," he said. "When you were a boy--you know, back in the 1900s--did they have Legos?"

The 1900s? I remember them well, I guess.

I'm beginning to really, really hate the 21st Century;)

My Primary Vote. What do YOU Think?

Tennessee's presidential primary is just over a week away (February 5), and I'm totally undecided on whom to vote for. Knowing that a third of my readers are ex-pat Americans who won't get to vote--and another third aren't American citizens at all--I'm going to ask for your help.

Here are some parameters. I will be voting in the Democratic primary, so don't recommend any Repugnicans. I'm still ticked at John Edwards for his failures in the 2004 presidential campaign (he failed to carry a single, Southern state for Kerry-Edwards), so it's hard for me to appreciate his hard-left turn--something I would usually applaud.

That leaves me with Hillary or Barack. I really can't choose. Either one would make a good president, in my opinion. Which one would be better?

Here's how I see it. I am enamored with Hillary's experience and competence. Don't forget, George W. Bush has been my country's president for the past 7 years. He has learned NOTHING on the job. He's as confused and clueless today as he was on 1/21/01. Somehow he couldn't see Islamic terrorism as a real threat until after 9/11. He still has a muddled view of the whole Hurricane Katrina disaster. He really, really, really wants just one more chance to make war (on Iran).

Hillary would get it. She would be ready on Day One. She wouldn't screw things up, and I think she would move the country forward again.

Obama's charisma is up against Hillary's competence. And what charisma it is! I listen to him, and I think, "This guy could unite the country. This guy could lead us to do great things." I mean, I could finally see a presidential candidate win more than 55% of the vote--something I fantasize about on a regular basis.

What do you think? Leave your comments--I'll give extra weight to those who are farthest away (and those who can't vote in the primary themselves). I'll be interested to see what you wonderful people have to say.

Thoughts on Einstein and Relativity

Einstein's theory of special relativity has been around for over 100 years now. Somehow, I think that people of faith are still about 100 years from really getting it or applying it.

We can't avoid it--that's for certain. Special Relativity explains the unique characteristic of light: that its speed is constant, 670,000,000 miles per second, relative to all forms of motion.

It works like this: Let's say I set up an experiment. I have developed two spaceships, each of which travels at 500,000,000 miles per hour. One will be speeding away from me. The other will be flying toward me from another star system. After five seconds, I will shoot laser beams in each direction, asking them to measure the speed at which light passes them.

Of course, the guy with the light meter, standing stationary next to me when I flipped on the laser would measure a speed of 670,000,000 miles per second.

The bizarre finding that Einstein discovered is that the guy in the spaceship traveling away from me, would also find that the light of my laser zipped past at 670,000,000 miles per hour. Moreover the ship coming towards me would also measure the same speed. This theory has been proven mathematically and physically time and time again.

That's what relativity is all about. Speed and time are not always constant. Relative to the speed of light, they are malleable, changing, capricious. That's why Einstein showed that speed and time are not absolute values but relative values which exist on a continuum--ergo, the space-time continuum which governs physical science today.

Of course, it wasn't long before Einstein's theories were applied in a variety of ways. Prior to 1905, prior to relativity, the world embraced absolutes. There was man and woman, good and evil, right and wrong, slave and free. No one considered these to be relative terms but absolutes. Like the old cigarette advertisements said, "We've come a long way, Baby."

Now everything is relative. Absolute man and woman? Tell that to the person who claims to be "transgendered." Good and evil? Maybe for folks like Hitler and Mother Theresa, but the rest of us fall somewhere in between--somewhere on that infernal continuum that relativity unleashed.

Relative to your political beliefs, you may believe that abortion is an absolute evil--or that the child's right to life is relative to its mother's health or ability to care for it. Relative to politics, you believe that the torture and sexual abasement of prisoners of war is either absolutely wrong or appropriate, relative to acts perpetrated against Americans by terrorists.

Everything is relative. Let's admit it and move on, shall we?

Really, relativity has thrown churches for a loop for over 100 years. It has been every bit as much a challenge to established religion as the discovery, 400 years earlier by Galileo, that the sun did not orbit around the earth.

I was in church a few weeks ago, singing along with the praise band. For some reason, my thoughts turned to Einstein and relativity. Suddenly, it hit me: the whole relativity thing and the whole Christianity thing suddenly wrapped themselves together and provided me with the answer. I am sharing this with you, just as I shared it with my fellow believers later that week in a sermon.

I mean, honestly, what are Christians to do with relativity? When we really look at what Einstein was saying--and how this theory was subsequently proved over the following century--will we find it to be compatible?

Does relativity wipe absolute-dependent Christianity right off the map, or does it provide an opening for something more? I think it does.

In fact, I think that relativity opens up the gospel--the very Bible itself--to the meanings that God intended. No, I'm not kidding. I haven't blown a mental gasket. Christ wrote the rules of the universe, didn't He? One of those rules was that light is constant. He knew this, and he taught it--so did St. Paul. It just took us a little over 1800 years to figure it out.

First, consider the Bible's teachings about light. "Your word is a...light for my path," the Psalmist says (119.105). John compares the life of Christ to "the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it" (1.4-5). There is much imagery in the Bible comparing light to the Righteousness that God wishes to instill in us--the Righteousness that was embodied in the life of Jesus Christ.

But does this Righteousness live up to Relativity? Of course it does! One of the things that Jesus rebelled against was the insistence on absolutes by the religious leaders of his day. One could boil down his teachings in Einsteinian terms: "There is one constant in the universe--that constant is God. There is no absolute Jew and absolute Gentile." How can you explain a gospel in which a Rich Young Ruler isn't rich or a destitute widow isn't poor? RELATIVE to God, these things were so.

I mean, think about it: the greatest teaching of Christ's life is this: death and life are not absolute, they exist relative to the righteousness of God, engendered in Jesus and fed by the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit. (That last sentence is the greatest testimony to the Trinity that I have ever written.)

Should Christians, therefore, whine and moan about the loss of absolutes? Of course not! They didn't belong there in the first place--they existed only so long as people didn't completely understand Christ's teachings. Good riddance!

My second finding was this: if Righteousness, like light, is a constant, then what does that mean? It means this. Whether we are running towards God as fast as we can or running away, His righteousness meets us at a constant speed. The believing Christian who seeks God through study and prayer basks in the same glow as that which warms the back of the unbeliever who has turned away. This is the truth behind the parables of the Prodigal Son and the Vineyard Workers.

All my life I have seen people who built rocket ships to God, claiming that this truth or that practice would speed up their faith to the point that they would be ahead of other believers. Pull out the light meter and measure the righteousness. It is constant. Praise be to God!

Finally, I wondered how a Christian would act if they accepted this belief that space and time didn't matter anymore. Well, first, for the time thing: I don't see time as a normal person sees it. I live relative to eternity. This shapes my worldview and my approach to time.

And what if distance doesn't matter either? How do I treat my neighbor or my enemy when there is not distance between us? How do I treat my fellow Christian when we are one in the Spirit? It's an amazing concept--one that Christ has tried to instill in Christians since his first sermon.

The Bible is filled with this new view of light and space and time. Look it up for yourself and leave me a comment to share what you have learned. A great place to start is Ephesians 3:17-21

"I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus thrroughout all generations, for ever and ever!"

How American Elections Work

I got an interesting question e-mailed by my mom's cousin, John Courtis, who lives in England (Suffolk).

I must confess to a longterm lack of understanding about these. What are your readings about the Iowa outcome? We only get our 'news' filtered through 'journalists' and 'experts' of mixed authority.

I just had to answer, and I liked my reply so much, I'll post it for you to enjoy, too (I hope).

Interesting question, John.

I have to admit that the thought of an 11-month election campaign is exhausting just to think about, and I haven't given it the scrutiny that it deserves. The presidential primary for Tennessee, the state where Patsy and I live, isn't until February 5, by which time there may be only one or two contenders left in each of the major parties--although this is the most wide-open primary season we have had since 1988.

The ingenious/frustrating thing that the framers of the US Constitution set up was a federated system that was really a United group of States rather than a single, centralized nation. For that reason, states choose delegates for the August nominating conventions through a system of primaries (secret ballot votes) or caucuses (public voting in a forum). The fact is that it is up to the states when they want to have their primaries. Basically the August nominating convention is the official stage where delegates from the states (elected in the winter) formally choose the nominee. I don't think a nomination has come down to the convention since the 1950s, and it is usually a foregone conclusion.

Traditionally, Iowa and New Hampshire have been the first two sites, but this year larger states like California and Florida moved their primaries up to February 5 in order to have a bigger impact on the nominating process. As a result, a half-dozen other states jumped in, and Iowa and New Hampshire moved their elections up to just a few days after New Year's.

I guess the comparison here would be for Brown and Cameron--in order to get their parties' nominations--would first have to win polls in places like Suffolk and Lincolnshire, competing against other members of their own party first.

As far as the results, I think that Barack Obama has a unique angle on the nomination (personally, I support Bill Richardson, governor of America's most beautiful state, New Mexico, and was Ambassador to the UN and Energy Secretary under President Clinton). He seems to be the only one from either party that seems intent on uniting the country. That's why he brought out such a strong independent vote in Iowa.

Personally, I find Hillary Clinton highly qualified (second to Richardson), and I would vote for her in a general election. But she has a lot of baggage, and doesn't inspire people in the way that Obama does. The Right hates her--and left-leaning Americans like me cringe at the thought of another anything-goes election scramble.

American elections since the Vietnam War have been similar to exercises in trench warfare. Both sides are dug in. No offensive against the other party is out of bounds--no means of attack too severe, and the electorate is split. An American president hasn't received a 50.1%+ majority of the nation's votes since 1988. The party most adept at this warfare is the Republican party. They have lost only three elections in 40 years: one two years after the infamous Watergate scandal (Jimmy Carter), and two when independent Ross Perot divided the vote (Clinton).

We saw how, in 2004, they attacked a decorated war veteran like John Kerry for cowardice, and elevated a glorified war evader in George W. Bush to re-election. Personally, I won't believe that they can lose this election until the last vote is counted--if it is counted at all.

I'm not sure if that answers all of your questions. I haven't written much about the Republican candidates, because I don't follow that side as closely. None of them are criticizing President Bush right now, because they are merely courting the votes of Republicans--the 27% of the populace that still seems to approve of the job he has done wrecking the country. That may seem surprising to those of you overseas, but it's very, very true.

Congratulations to Dorothy on her book deal! I'm quite jealous. Ironically, I'm listening to my iPod as I write this, and "Rule Britannia" just played (I had downloaded it for a lesson I taught on English patriotic songs at my high school last year). "Britons never shall be slaves!!" I love it.

Happy New Year!

It has been a busy Christmas break for me, getting caught up with work on my 2nd and 3rd jobs and too busy to blog.

I don't want to let the New Year pass without indulging in a tradition here on 'Point Pleasant:' posting U2's "40."

I love this song so much--and it's much better live than you'll find it on their album, "War!" The message is perfect for New Year's--and it comes straight from Psalm 40:

He put my feet up on a solid rock
to make sure I wouldn't slip.
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,
a praise-song to our God.
More and more people are seeing this:
they enter the mystery,
abandoning themselves to God. from The Message paraphrase

How long will it take until I can sing the song described by David in this psalm? I'm going to sing it now--and continue throughout 2008.

Another One Bites the Dust

I'm reading the book, Life of Pi, with my freshman honors students. It's a fascinating book--one that has burst onto many high school readying lists. I like it because it gives me two things: a chance to discuss faith/religion with my students.

We review the 20th Century. We talk about Einstein and how his Theory of Relativity opened the door to breaking all the rules. After all, if space and time is relative, isn't good and evil relative, too? If the speed of light was the only constant, I guess God/god was relative, too.

I had a great time today preparing my final lecture for this amazing group of students--a Top Three class of all the kids I've taught over ten years. We will study art, music, and architecture, following it from the Romantic Era (early 19th Century) to today. I'm grading their papers--topic: how I formed a belief I have today.

I'm still learning more. That's the cool thing. In her column in Salon.com, Camile Paglia made a profound statement. Paglia is a liberal, a feminist, and an outspoken lesbian (not that that matters much, I guess). She is one of the most outspoken people in Letters today.

In talking about Mitt Romney and the religious expectations Americans have for their politicians, she wrote:

Atheism alone is a rotting corpse. I substitute art and nature for God -- the grandeur of man and the vast mystery of the universe.... Secularism evidently cannot stimulate creativity as profoundly as religion does -- whether in the artist's soaring affirmation or angry resistance.

Paglia discusses Europe--a thoroughly secularized society. About the only thing she sees Europeans passionate about is soccer. Their art stinks, there is no moral authority in their actions. An emphasis on the environment or an open approach to sexuality only underscore the spiritual wasteland that it has become. Paglia calls it "a museum" where people from around the world can go to witness the grandeur of a society that once revered God and honored its kings.

What a fascinating thought. I don't think Paglia has been reborn as a Christian, nor do I expect her to become evangelical overnight. But here you have a confirmed atheist basically saying: "I don't believe in God, but I sure do want to live in a society where enough people believe in him to embrace life, to seek to create great works of art, who embrace the mystery of God through science and exploration.

Advent Music

Every year I try to buy one new Christmas album. It's fun to get a fresh take on the familiar Christmas songs. Last year I bought an album Christmas songs featuring obscure medieval instruments--"A Christmas Collection, featuring The Miner Museum of Vintage, Exotic and Just Plain Unusual Musical Instruments" by Gregg Miner.

Far and away, though, my favorite Christmas album is Andrew Peterson's "Behold the Lamb of God" (you can either stream it on your computer or just take my word and buy it for yourself). It is comprehensive, weaving the prophecies of the Old Testament into the joyful story of the Advent Season.

He now has a number of videos of his yearly concerts online. I'll post "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" below. For those of you who can't make it to Nashville this time of year, this is a chance to hear that Nashville Sound on an ancient Christmas Classic.

Baker Jo

For Thanksgiving Jonah baked a pumpkin pie in his pre-kindergarten class. They set him up with a baking hat and an apron. He was so proud.

My dad snapped this photo of Jonah and Owen in his piano studio at the school later that day. The pie (which tasted great, I can assure you) is covered by aluminum foil.

I just love the photo because it shoes two silly boys--my two silly boys. They really have a close brotherly bond, don't they?

Advent Reading

This morning for devotions I was reading out of The Message Bible paraphrase. Mary's visit with Elizabeth was vividly brought to life. I wanted to share verses 42b to 45 with you:

"Why am I so blessed that
the mother of my Lord visits me?
The moment the sound of your
greeting entered my ears,
The babe in my womb
skipped like a lamb for sheer joy.
Blessed woman, who believed what God said,
believed every word would come true!"

I just loved the line that the fetal John "skipped like a lamb" at the approach of Mary and the new-formed Jesus. It's a great foreshadowing of John's reaction when Jesus comes to be baptized.

This idea of sensing the incarnate God and 'skipping like a lamb' before him is echoed by St. Augustine, who wrote in The Confessions,

"...It is my belief in you that calls out to you--the faith that is your gift to me, which you breathed into me by the humanity your Son assumed, taking up his mission of proclaiming you."

It is also a reminder of the excitement of the Advent season, the enthusiasm with which we should welcome the Christ child into our lives this season. This time of year is a time to recapture the joy of Christ coming into my life--not only to celebrate Christ's birth but to be born again myself.

And those last lines: "blessed woman, who believed what God said, believed every word would come true!" That's the key to gaining this new birth--to receiving this Christmas gift that the Christian calendar provides for us year in and year out.

ROTF LOL

This comes courtesy of my very pregnant friend, Amanda's Shilling in the Serpentine.

I'm not a big fan of mimes or of elaborately rendered sign-language songs at church, but comic Johan Lippowicz just cracks me up every time I watch his "duet" with Natalie Imbruglia on her one-hit-wonder, "Torn." His facial expressions are hilarious, as are his motions (the one for 'man' gets me every time).



Don't worry, I have some awesome Christmas videos to send along, but I'll wait a little longer.

I hope you're all enjoying your first week of Advent!

Oh By the Way: The Gospel of Judas

Do you remember last Easter? The popular "discovery" about the Christian faith at the time was the newly discovered Gospel of Judas, featured in a National Geographic television special and numerous magazine articles.

At least I think it was last April. I get the whole Gospel of Judas hulabaloo mixed up with the "just discovered tomb of Jesus, James and Mary Magdalene" melee and all the new discoveries that tend to make the covers of TIME magazine and the schedules of Discovery Channel during Christianity's most precious holidays, Christmas and Easter.

The New York Times ran an Op-Ed piece today by Rice University's April D. Deconick which provides a vital 'second opinion' to the claims of Judas promoters.

After examining the evidence herself (which was a difficult task, considering that NGC slapped nondisclosure requirements on the scholars it quoted in the show, and it refused to share life-sized facsimiles of the documents to non-contracted Bible scholars.

Anyway, these are some of the mistakes Deconick finds in the NGC translation:

• NGC had implied that the Judas of the 3rd-centruy Gnostic gospel that bore his name was a hero. In fact this character is a demon.
• NGC had claimed that the documents called Judas a 'spirit.' In fact, the documents use the word daimon for Judas (which we translate as 'demon;' the Greek word usually for 'spirit' is pneuma.
• I know as a teacher of German that pronouns are hard to translate, but the key NGC claims had related Judas to a "holy generation," of which he was a part because he had a predestined role to lead Jesus to his own, messianic destiny. But the NGC had claimed that Judas was set apart for this generation, when the accepted translation shows that the demonic Judas was separated from it.
• NGC has already, since the airing of the documentary, admitted that the gospel in no way associated Judas with a holy generation; but the only explanation Deconick can find for such a mistranslation is that "the [NGC] scholars altered the Coptic original."

So will we see a TIME magazine cover this Christmas (or next Easter) that will admit all the chicanery that masquerades as New Testament scholarship these days? In recent years we have unearthed the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Gospel of Thomas, the hypothetical "Q" Gospel, and many other works of more-questionable origin. These have led us no closer to the real Christ than we could find in the Gospels; no closer to the true, orthodox Christian church than the writings of its founders, Paul and James.

For all the archaeology and pseudo-science that goes into a study of Christianity, we still have no better sources for the life of Jesus than the Gospels. These sources received plenty of vetting and scrutiny by scholars in the 200-odd years prior to the establishment of the Christian canon. If you want to learn about Jesus, turn off Discovery or National Geographic, and get into the Bible.

New Book: Passion and Principal

I just finished one of the most fascinating books I've read on the topic of American history: Sally Denton's, Passion and Principal, a biography of THE American power couple in the mid-19th Century: John C. and Jessie Fremont.

I was so inspired, I published a review on Amazon.com, which I will include below. Let me just say that I found a kindred spirit in Fremont: a man probably too adventurous for his own good--and one far too ahead of the curve to succeed as a military man or a politician. Perhaps it's a sign of my age that I find myself spending more time sympathizing with the flaws of the individuals I read about than I spend aspiring to copy their greater attributes.

Does anyone else find themselves reading biographies in this way?

Like Fremont, I also married a powerful woman, albeit one who lived in a culture that was more accepting of brilliance in women. Jessie Fremont excelled as a writer and political strategist long before such occupations were appropriate for her sex.

Anyway, here's the review:

His career wedged between two American titans, Andrew Jackson and Abraham Lincoln, John C. Fremont leaps into the his rightful place in history through this remarkable book.

Fremont's idealism both helped an haunted his career. He was the first American to systematically map the Rocky Mountains and the Great Basin, and he played a remarkable role in the Bear Flag Revolt and the conquest of California. But the "Pathfinder" often found himself too far in front of his contemporaries: his failure to adapt to the changing military change of command led to court martial within a year of his California exploits; his adamant opposition to slavery cost him first his senate seat and later his position as commander of the Union's Western forces in the Civil War (he issued the first Emancipation Proclamation in the state of Missouri in 1861, and Lincoln punished him harshly for this); finally, he invested the huge fortune he had made in the California gold fields in transcontinental railroads, only to fail at every turn and die in poverty.

No better example of both Fremont's strengths and flaws can be found than the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado: a rugged mountain chain he tried twice to traverse, ending in failure each time, the first time in the service of the U.S. Army and the second time in an attempt to survey a pass for the railroads through the mountains.

This is the first biography I have read of Fremont, and I felt that Denton's tone was sometimes overly sympathetic. She seemed to play down obvious indications of both Fremonts' extra-marital affairs and the personality tics that prevented Fremont from succeeding as a politician (despite runs for the presidency both in 1856 and 1864).

All in all, though, Denton does a wonderful job of bringing this power couple to life. From beginning to end, I was fascinated by these two individuals and their contributions during a critical part of American history.

Star Wars

"Dad, what's the name of the the pit that took 1,000 years to eat Boba Fett?"

"Dad, when did Luke find out that Leia was his sister?"

These questions and more have been echoing around my house as Owen develops a true love of Star Wars.

It's funny. I was Owen's age when Star Wars burst onto the scene in the late 1970s. It captured my imagination at the time: a universe far, far away with X-wing fighters, The Force, and Darth Vader, the most terrifying character I had seen in the movies.

Star Wars was the first movie I ever saw in the theater. I begged my mom to take me, almost from day one, but Adventists at the time frowned on visiting movie theaters. During it's second run in the Spring of 1978, she finally consented and took me, along with my best friend, Eric, to the theater in downtown Athens, Ohio. Afterward we went to Dairy Queen, and I had a Peanut Buster Parfait--it's amazing the things you remember thirty years later.

Owen took an indirect route to Star Wars obsession. He is currently fixated on Legos. At his birthday, recently, he received four or five different boxes of Legos. One Lego series is based on Star Wars. More importantly, they have a series of video games called "Lego Star Wars."

Owen is working his way through the movies. It's confusing now, because of course George Lucas released a three-part prequel to Star Wars between 1997 and 2004. Owen says that he likes Episode 1, but by that he means The Phantom Menace, not Episode 4, which was the original Star Wars. He likes to refer to the three movies of my childhood as "the original trilogy."

It is fun, though, seeing the movies through his eyes once again. Star Wars is for kids: the Jedi knights and droids and spaceships are tailor-made for a seven-year-old's imagination. As I grew older, I began to focus on the soap opera quality of the storyline. Watching the movie with Owen again, I realize, "there are worlds out there...all we must do is imagine them; there are monsters and heroes and robots and spaceships...all we must do is create them--and play, most of all."

Giving Thanks to God

I'll try to get caught up on my blogging this holiday weekend. Things have been tres busy here, and I need to recover!

If you're looking for something to be thankful for, look up. God has been great to my family this year. I'll enclose this new song from my favorite praise artist, David Crowder: "You Make Everything Glorious." Enjoy.

Political Endorsement

Heart Warranty

I'm the chairman of the men's group at my church. We call ourselves the Men of Bethpage, a.k.a. "the MoB."

One of the cool things that I get to do as men's group leader is ask people to have the devotional at our monthly meetings. I always make it a point to pray before I seek, and God has led me to some inspiring people. Today I had asked Mike J., the harmonicist for our church band and a man who has come back from valve-replacement surgery, which he had back in June.

"I've been praying for a new heart every week for years," I said. "Now Mike is going to tell us what it's like."

Mike S. piped up from the audience. He's an engineer, so he's all about the technology. "That's a refurb' you've got there," he said. "A refurbished heart." He paused to arrange the punchline: "Did you get a warranty with that?"

Mike J. didn't miss a beat as he walked up and took his place at the podium. He looked back and winked at Mike S. "A lifetime warranty," he said.

"When You Mix Religion and Politics..."

Fascinating story in the New York Times's Week in Review this weekend on the demise on the evangelical love affair with the Republican Party.

'The Evangelical Crackup" focuses on Wichita, Kansas, and the changing of the guard in the religious establishment there. Many of the ministers who led Kansas' backward political battles (closing a local abortion clinic and leading a statewide campaign against gay marriage) have either retired or been sacked by their congregations.

Those taking their place are younger, more moderate pastors who preach a holistic Christianity that focuses more on good deeds toward one's community and environment than on bad ideas. Consider this quote from Todd Walker, 42, who pastors the 7,000 member Westlink Christian Church:

“I don’t believe the problem of abortion will be solved by overturning Roe v. Wade. It won’t. To me, it is a Gospel issue.”

Walker's predecessor, Gene Carlson, who was a leader in the Rightist anti-abortion protests of the 80s and 90s, summed it up best, I thought: "When you mix religion and politics, all you get is politics."

I especially loved one nugget that David D. Kirkpatrick found. Considering how Wichita was ruled by right-wing Christian ministers for over a decade, the leader of the recent anti-lottery campaign turned out to be none other than the liberal minister of the First United Methodist Church! Well, the shoe is on the other foot, then, isn't it?

Clearly the blame for the popping of the Fundamentalist Bubble is the quasi-Fundamentalist Empty Suit elected to the White House in 2000 and 2004. Despite years of pandering, Bush's approval rating among evangelicals has fallen to 45% from 90% at the time of the 2004 election. (For the rest of the country, his approval rating is half of that.)

Questions remain, though. Will this affect the 2008 election with more-moderate evangelicals turning to Democrats? Is this "crack-up" due to the true demise of an unwieldy religio-political alliance or to the disheartening lack of quality among Republican candidates?

I remember one thing the late Molly Ivins said at a lecture I attended: "I've learned to never bet on politics." Of course after she said this, she went on to tell how unlikely it was that her close friend and Texas Governor would ever lose an election to a slavering incompetent like George W. Bush!

Thoughts on James

A few months ago I blogged about the trouble I was having with a belief in Satan. (Who speaks Latin here? Would that be an adiablist?)

I found some backing for this view as I was reading the Book of James. This is James 1.13-15:

Don't let anyone under pressure to give in to evil say, "God is trying to trip me up." God is impervious to evil, and puts evil in no one's way. The temptation to give in to evil comes from us and only us. We have no one to blame but the leering, seducing flare-up of our own lust. Lust gets pregnant and has a baby: sin! Sin grows up to adulthood and becomes a real killer. (The Message translation)

As I said in my earlier post, I consider myself to be the root of evil in my life. I have a natural bent toward a number of sins. When I am tempted to lust or tell a lie, that comes from inside me, not from Satan. When I take Jesus' body and blood at Communion, I pray that He will conquer the sin inside me--not the Satan somewhere, wherever he is.

Yes, James is writing to those who claim "God made me do it" instead of The Devil--perhaps a nascent group of predestinites/Calvinists. But I think the logic holds up.

Check out my school web site

I've been taking a learn-as-you-go course on Dreamweaver (a web design software). I'm lucky to have a number of web sites to try the stuff out on. My favorite is my teaching web site.

I'm really proud of this thing. If you cruise on over, you'll see movie-style banners on the home page and the English 1 Honors page. On the German I page, you'll see links to photos of our recent history project: "Crusading mit Barbarossa."

I worked especially hard this week on a 'paperless' research project for my English 1 Honors class. Students had to research social classes in the 19th century. I set up an HTML form for them to enter their answers. Then I installed a 'SEND' button. When they were done with the research, they clicked the button, and their research was immediately sent to my Inbox.

Now that's cool! Hopefully those of you who knew my teaching abilities way back in the 20th Century, will be impressed by the modern changes.

I'd Like to Thank the Nobel Committee

Since I won't ever get a Nobel Prize (unless they start a category called "Teaching Homer to High Schoolers"), I have to focus my excitement to the prize awarded today to a fellow Tennessean I have long admired: Al Gore.

Therefore, I would like to thank the Nobel Committee for choosing an American. For good and for evil, my country is a leading force in the world today, and I am grateful when Americans can be recognized for the good generated on behalf of other around the world. Gore joins political leaders like Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Jimmy Carter, along with cabinet members like Cordell Hull and George C. Marshall as recipients of this most esteemed of awards.

It is also as a Tennessean that I thank the committee. Gore is the 2nd Tennessean to win this prize--considering that my state is not among the most populated, I think that's pretty good. Cordell Hull, who made his home in Clay County, not 40 miles away from Gore's home in Carthage, won the Peace Prize in 1945 for his efforts in the founding of the United Nations.

Despite the common sense and clear science behind Gore's campaign to educate the world about mankind's impact climate change, he has certainly overcome great obstacles to do so. His own country has been misled into an abyss where contempt for fact and analysis is considered a political advantage. While no scientific studies have contradicted Gore's claims, he has weathered (pardon the pun) a string of personal attacks and hyperbole, designed to divert his American audience from his central message.

Frankly, if it had been easy, I guess he wouldn't have won the Nobel Prize. So maybe that's a good thing after all.

A Worship Tip

One of the priorities a Christian faces is how to make worship more meaningful. I wanted to pass along one that is meaningful to me.

I've been singing hymns and praise songs for so long, I don't think there are many that I don't know by heart. I've started singing everything by memory. It's better that way, and it seems like more of an expression of worship than if I'm reading off a screen or from a hymnbook.

(My church has a modern early service and a traditional second service. On days when I sing with the choir, I go to both services, so I get to sing both praise songs and hymns.)

As I sing the songs, I often find myself looking down, rather than up at the screen where the words are. I find that when I'm looking down and to the left--in the lower left quadrant of my vision, the words mean so much more to me. I feel much more worshipful.

Is there anything to this? I've read in the past that you can often figure out what someone is thinking by the direction their eyes look when they look away from you. I'm not sure if I've ever found a connection between worship and where one looks with their eyes.

Living Biblically for a Year

I have long enjoyed A.J. Jacobs work in Esquire magazine, as well as his book, The Know It All, about the year he read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica.

His latest book is called The Year of Living Biblically. Here's the plot: Jacobs spent one year following every single rule found in the Bible. He consulted with a Hasidic Jew, an Amish, and a Jehovah's Witness to make sure that he had all his bases covered.

How did it go? Jacobs grew out his beard (see picture right). He cut out the cursing and the coveting. He built a hut in the middle of his New York apartment and tried to wear white, as recommended in Ecclesiastes. He celebrated the Sabbath. And when he met a man who admitted that he had committed adultery, Jacobs politely asked to stone him.

I'll look forward to reading the book, although I'll probably wait to borrow it from my local library. When asked by MSNBC if the book changed him, Jacobs admitted that he changed from "an agnostic to a reverent agnostic."

Having grown up in Seventh-day Adventist communities, I know my fair share about living biblically: what food to eat, what I can (and can not) do on the Sabbath, what not to wear, etc. It's easy for me to eat & dress like a fundamentalist, but like St. Paul, I felt that "living biblically" was an imperfect route to the Father; furthermore, when I 'lived biblically' it empowered people around me to criticize my actions and motivations. Now that I live for Christ, I don't have to put up with that stuff anymore.

Jacobs, however, felt empowered by the experience:

The experience changed me in big ways and small ways. There’s a lot about gratefulness in the Bible, and I would say I’m more thankful. I focus on the hundred little things that go right in a day, instead of the three or four things that go wrong. And I love the Sabbath. There’s something I really like about a forced day of rest.... One thing I learned is that the outside affects the inside, your behavior shapes your thoughts. I also really liked what one of my spiritual advisers said, which was that you can view life as a series of rights and entitlements, or a series of responsibilities. I like seeing my life as a series of responsibilities. It’s sort of, "Ask not what God can do for you, ask what you can do for God."

The book comes out next week. Jacobs also has a feature story in the latest issue of Esquire about his one-year efforts.

A Collision Billions of Years in the Making

I found the following items in this week's TIME magazine:

New Look at Dinosaurs' Demise

A recent study pinpointed the interstellar collision that eventually led to the dinosaurs' extinction. The event was so deep in space that the meteorite it created didn't slam into Earth and kill off the dinosaurs until nearly 100 million years later. While the findings, if true, would "link the biological history of the earth to events far from earth," according to William Bottke, who led the study, they would also alter what we know about the history of dinosaurs:

(The pictures at right are of the Yucatan Peninsula, site of the Chicxulub meteorite site. In the top picture, a faint green line shows the extremity of the huge crater. The bottom picture has a white dot, which identifies the impact point.)

This brief was hard for me to really "get." My mind simply cannot conceive of the idea of one million years. I've tried. I couldn't. I guess my mind is just too small.

The article is based on science, however, so I try to understand. The timeline looks like this: 250 million years ago, dinosaurs become the dominant land animals.

Ninety million years later, on the other side of the Universe, two asteroids, one 106 miles in diameter, the other 37 miles, slam into each other and explode, creating a field of interstellar meteorites, The Baptistinas.

One of these meteorites, a six-mile behemoth, travels for 95 million years through desolate space. At the appointed time--the time mathematically destined since the collision that created it--it slams into earth, just off the shore of Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. Clouds of dust arise and blot out the sun for months, years. The dinosaurs go extinct.

Now, I said before that I can't comprehend one million years in time, much less the distances of time and space, the mathematical precision, and the tens of millions of years between explosion and impact that this study explains. Anything that vast, I tend to ascribe to the Mind of God.

I mean, think about it. According to this scenario, life on earth developed, existed, thrived under a death sentences. Tens of millions of years earlier, an explosion far across the universe doomed life on this planet. My bounded imagination cannot explain this without God.

But what would an event like this tell one about God? Here's what I think:

I think these adjectives need to be forever banned from discussions of God: impetuous, arbitrary, and capricious.

In fact, His will is so vast as to understand causes and effects when they are separated by the tens of millions of years, miles, units of energy, etc. Mankind cannot understand this, and we deceive ourselves if we claim to do so. When God creates, He does so in a way that is timeless and mind-blowing. When God destroys, that too is an event set in motion eons and light-years away from those ultimately affected.

With a God who spans tens of millions of ages, then, 'what is Man that [God] is mindful of him?' (Psalm 8). We are probably a lot smaller than we think! We are too willing to exalt ourselves, considering the actions that God set in motion before our lives that may or may not come to fruition during our days on earth.

I'm reminded of this exchange, found in the book of Job (40.2-4):

The Lord said to Job, "Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let him who accuses God answer him!"

Then Job answered the Lord: "I am unworthy--how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth."

My mind is still trying to take it all in. Maybe your minds can help me with this.

Speaking for the Dead

Her name is La Doncella. She has been asleep for over 500 years. Look at her. See the way her legs are crossed, her arms are wrapped around her tummy to ward off the cold. She looks as if she could awaken at any time, but she won't.

La Doncella was 15 when she went to sleep in a cave high in the Andes Mountains, along with a boy, 7, and a little girl, 6. They were willing, human sacrifices.

The best we can tell, the Incas needed guardians for their villages. Children, often the children of nobility, made great candidates. They were innocent, pure, almost godlike. They would be buried alive on a 22,000-foot peak overlooking the city of Salta, Argentina. They would join their ancestors, and their spirits would watch over their surviving kin.

The children were well dressed. They carried with them many artifacts to take into the afterlife. Their mummified remains show no signs of struggle. They squatted as the cave was sealed up, wrapped their cloaks tightly around themselves, and closed their eyes, never to awaken again.

What fascinates me about La Doncella and her tiny friends isn't the perfection with which they have been preserved at 22,000 feet: it's the unseen part of her--the spirit that allowed her to willingly offer up her life to be a guardian of her people, the spirit that cannot be found among the artifacts of her burial.

I know a little about the spirits and personalities of 15-year-old girls, and I wish that hers could be coupled once again with her body--to wake up, and see the world through Incan eyes. In some ways I hope her spirit can't see her remains, moved to a museum in Salta, and kept at 0 degrees Fahrenheit in a glass cylinder. From what I know, I doubt she would care anyway.

Our spirit is the only part of us that is eternal: it was created in the Mind of God before we were formed in our mothers' wombs. It is the only thing that will remain after our remains have rotted away--unless we can arrange ourselves a burial on one of those Andean peaks!

Of Daddies and Daughters

You're never too old to learn, never too old to realize how the world really works. I've spent the summer having a lesson seared into my mind--one which contradicts one of the greatest goals of my life:

The ideal that my daughter would grow to cherish me.

It was much harder for me to write the sentence above than it could have been surprising for you (especially if you're a father) to read it. I've found it to be one of the coldest and hardest facts of life to come to terms with, yet I ask you...

Can you think of a grown daughter who actually cherishes her father?

I think it's a myth--one that I fell for hard the minute Ellie was born on a bright Arizona day in May of 1997. We have all these niceties in our culture--the expression, "Daddy's girl," is a prime example--that deceive fathers like me into believing a Lie.

When Ellie was nursing, I spent every night reading The Odyssey to her and Jenny. We took her everywhere--to Grand Canyon, Calfornia, Vienna, Budapest, and Albania--and both Jenny and I dreamed of raising a girl who would share our adventurous view of the world.

When Ellie was three, I read a series of books about world history to her. She showed a wonderful aptitude for history--any story, for that matter. "Daddy, tell me a story!" was her favorite expression, and I grew as a storyteller and a writer--my first manuscript, still unpublished, sadly, is a book-length version of one of her most favorite stories from that time: Nitokris's Sandal.

We returned from Albania when Ellie was two, and for the next four years of her life, I stayed home with her for all but one of them--a year I flailed away working for Catholic Charities. I coached her soccer team for four seasons. I went to incredible lengths to be a part of her life and to lead and adore as a father should.

And now it seems that it was really a waste of time. Ellie turned ten last May. Contempt followed soon after. "I don't think you really love me," she wrote me in a note at that time. It was a slap in the face, but I played along, trying to point out some of the things I've done for her, showing affection when I could. But to be honest, it was like telling me, in the middle of an epic road trip, "I don't think you've started the car yet."

Don't get me wrong, in many ways I've seen Ellie grow up this summer. She's taller. She takes a lot more responsibility at home, and her grades have improved. But I've also seen her grow apart. I'm the only person in the family who has a stronger personality than Ellie, which leads to far too many conflicts. She gets her way with just about everyone else.

The more I think of it, though. This is the way with little girls. They grow away from their daddies, pausing only for a brief, nostalgic display on their wedding day, before continuing life without them. I looked at the little girls that had grown up around me: Jenny, my sister, my close friends. I just don't see that any of them really love their fathers in the way that I wish my daughter would love me--the ideal that I mentioned earlier.

I talked with Jenny about this. She talks with her dad once or twice a year. He visited last summer for the first time in four years, and she's fine with that. She blames him for a lot of that--and, I agree that he made some major blunders with both her and her mother. But I asked her if she hadn't already started moving away before that. She figured that she probably had.

That is my major revelation of the week. It isn't a very positive one, but it is an important one, both for me and for Ellie. Since I came to this realization, I have treated Ellie with affection, but I haven't made a big deal about the insulting things she says or does. For example, when she planned a whole summer trip to go to EPCOT Center for just her and Jenny, I said, "Then I'm going to take the boys to Niagara Falls so we can be as far away from you as possible."

The 'Old Daddy' would have said, "Don't you remember all the road trips I've taken you on? Do you remember the places we've talked about visiting together?" The 'New Daddy' just volleyed the insult and went on with life, lower expectations and all.

Because that's the real way it is with daughters, and with daddies, and with life.

Say Hello to my Blogging Friends

I've added a few new buddies to my blog list over the last few months, and I wanted to introduce them to all of you.

I think all of you know this, but The Sexiest Woman Alive is none other than my own, beautiful Bride, Jenny George. She's trying to use her blog to slow life down and take pictures of the only men in the world she loves more than me: her sons, Owen and Jo-Jo, and her boyfriend, Bart.... Wait a minute, she informs me that there is no Bart in her life. Whew!

Pastor Mike's Thoughts come from On High, even though he's pretty smart in his own right. Mike Potts is a close friend and a theological sojourner--he's helping me with my "working man's MA in Theology" by providing me and Jenny with dozens of books. He was the pastor at Bethpage UMC when Jenny and I first started going there, and while we don't see him on Sundays anymore, we still keep in touch.

My newest blog buddy is also one of my oldest friends. Gavin knew Jenny and me at Newbold (I know of one banquet at which Jenny was his date). He spoke at our wedding, and he has been our close friend for over 15 years. He is currently youth director of the Icelandic Conference of Seventh-day Adventists. His blog, "Reflecting Jesus," demonstrates the deep spirituality I've come to respect him for.

Finally, Andreas Dittes is a long-lost relative of mine who lives in Karlsruhe, Germany. He is a technology nut, and most of his posts are about new software and hardware he's picked up. He is trying to build an online database of our far-flung Dittes family, and I'm trying to help him track down the "prodigal" American branches that emigrated away from our cozy Heimestadt of Diedelsheim-Bretten, Germany, between 1850 and 1905. There are many Ditteses still living near Karlsruhe, although Portland, Tennessee, may not be too far behind! (You need to be able to read German to really understand Andreas's blog.)

Book Review: Angels & Demons

About a year ago, my mom gave me a book on CD: Dan Brown's Angels & Demons. Because my drive to work is so short, I failed to begin listening until the long drive back from Norman's wedding. It was a long drive--from 4 p.m. to 11:30--just long enough to get me completely hooked.

Like the rest of humanity, I read The Da Vinci Code, finding it a first-class thriller. I held back from A&D primarily because I'm not a big reader of thrillers. I can probably count on one hand the number of thrillers I've read in my life--my all-time favorite being Ken Follet's Die Nadel.

To be honest, I enjoyed A&D a little more than DVC. Yes, it has religion at its core: a plot by the secret group, The Illuminati, to destroy the Vatican with a superweapon. It isn't as enthusiastically heterodoxical as DVC, however. I felt Brown did a pretty good job of balancing believers with skeptics--even as he was killing off a pope, four cardinals and bringing St. Peter's Cathedral to the edge of destruction.

What I loved about the book was the tour of Rome he provides the reader. The art of Bernini, the Piazza Nuovono, the Pantheon, and the Sistine Chapel provide settings in the book. I thought the clues that Robert Langon (also the hero of DVC) had to decipher were a little more clever than those he solved in DVC as he raced from Paris to London to Scotland. The love story--this time involving a beautiful Italian nuclear physicist--is better told than the awkward relationship with Sophie in DVC.

Best of all, though, has to be Brown's pacing. Just when I was about to get to a key point, the reader would break and then say, "Chapter 34." One of the problems with listening to thrillers on tape instead of reading them is that you can't scan ahead. You have to wait!!!

All told, I give the book four of five stars. If you're interested in listening. I have the CDs here!

Of Ghosts and Grandfathers

Taylor and Brandon are my neighbors, ages 10 and 11. They spent most of the past summer here at my house, playing with Owen and Jonah, and doing the kinds of 'boy things' (good and bad) that make summers memorable.

Yesterday they helped us to celebrate Jonah's 4th birthday. Jo-Jo had gotten lots of cool birthday presents, and they lost track of time. By the time they were ready to go home, it was dark outside.

"Can you walk us back home or drive your car?" Taylor asked. I tried to ignore him. They live two doors down from me, and while you have to go a ways in the dark, it isn't that far--or that spooky.

"Just follow the driveway," I said. "You'll go straight there."

They disappeared for a moment. Then they returned, asking with more urgency, "Can you walk us home?"

Just then Tascha pulled into the driveway, delivering her niece, Tristan, for a sleepover Ellie was having. Brandon was on a bike. "Just follow the car up the driveway. Once you hit the street, you're almost home."

A few minutes later, they were back. Taylor was gasping for breath. He was scared to death. "We lost the car," he huffed. "We need you to take us home."

I finally gave in. God gave me a mission this summer--a mission for the kids in my own neighborhood. I have been challenged daily of the sheer inconvenience of caring for kids who aren't mine, picking up after them, and overlooking silly little things. I walked out the door and headed up the driveway.

As a Dittes, I am programmed to do one specific thing every time I go out my front door at night: I look up at the stars. My grandpa used to do this when it was his house. He would walk us out as we left, and he would look up and point out a constellation. I find that it is a reflex now: go out, look up; walk down the sidewalk, look up. I don't think there has been a single time in 36 years of walking out that door that I haven't looked up!

As we walked down the driveway, I told them about Grandpa. "I love to walk out here in the dark," I said as we walked up the hill. "My Grandpa used to walk out here with me and tell me stories about the stars."

"Can I tell you why I'm scared?" Taylor asked.

"Sure."

One night both Brandon and Taylor had been awakened by their grandfather. He had shaken them in their beds, trying to get their attention. When they told their mother about the incident the next morning, she reminded them that he had been dead for almost three months.

They had seen a ghost--they insisted on this fact. Both had been awakened that night at the same time. They said their mother had consulted a fortune-teller who had told them not to worry: the ghost had been looking for mother, not them. (I don't think it had worked. They were still worried, obviously.)

I dropped them off at home. They thanked me several times.

But as I walked home through the gloomy pines on my way back home, I couldn't stop thinking about ghosts. It was quiet. The white gravel glowed in the starlight.

I thought about how much I missed Grandpa--how nice it would be to see him again and share one more walk under the stars. For a moment, I let myself wish that I might see his ghost--but I couldn't figure out if he would look like the robust doctor of my childhood or the hobbling old man of the years before he died last March 13.

There are a number of reasons why I don't believe in ghosts--and that imagination thing has to be one of them.

As I passed through the tall pines, gliding across the glowing gravel drive, I looked up at the stars. I remember how Grandpa would recite the number of light years for each of them. "The light you're seeing was created 30,000 years ago," he would say. "It is just reaching us tonight. That star could go out, and we wouldn't know it for another 30,000 years."

Grandpa's ghost is gone. Every physical and substantial part of him is buried, awaiting resurrection.

His spirit lives on, however, just like the light of the stars. It will burn--in me, my children, and my grandchildren--for many years more before anyone will be able to notice that it had burnt out long ago.

Dangerous Toys

We were watching the Nightly News the other night and learned about the Mattel/China toy recall.

Checking on Mattel's web site, it turned out we had one of the dangerous toys: a lead-paint-spattered "Sarge" character toy from Jo-Jo's favorite movie, Cars.

I logged on and entered some information. They have sent me a mailing label to print out and sent with the package. They will also send me a $7 gift certificate.

The scary thing is that Jo-Jo's birthday is this Saturday (the 18th). I had already bought him three more Cars toys and a race track (all made in China, of course). Who knows if those toys are the next ones to be recalled (there have been three recalls of Chinese-made toys in the last two months)?

I honestly try to look at labels when I buy toys. It's to the point now, where it's almost impossible to find things NOT manufactured in China. What's a dad to do?

Cousins in Chicago

Owen, Jonah and I have one thing in common: we love our cousins.

My cousin Norman's wedding (see below) was an opportunity for me to get back together with family, including my cousin, Donnie. When Owen & Jonah heard that my sister would be there with her kids, they signed up immediately. Ellie & Jenny stayed home.

I left early Saturday morning (5:15) and drove straight to Chicago. I desperately wanted to show the boys the Field Museum and take in the natural history and dinosaur exhibits there. The trip took us a total of seven hours, giving us 2 1/2 hours to explore. It was so much fun: we viewed artifacts of Ancient Egypt, all the stuffed and posed animals (including passenger pigeons, which I had never seen before). The museum staff practically had to drag us away from there.

The highlight came that night when we saw my nephews, Jacob and Joshie. Jo-Jo and Joshie's birthdays are just a few weeks away, so we had a birthday party with lots of gifts. The boys swam in the hotel pool and later played in our hotel room until midnight. It was a party!!

We stayed in South Bend, Indiana. The next day we drove up to Berrien Springs, Michigan, to see my cousin Norman get married. We got back home near midnight Sunday--the night before the first day of school! (Yes, it may have seemed foolish, but there are three men in my family who think it was worthwhile, just for the chance to hang out with cousins that we love!)

Of course, I was very happy to see my own cousin, Donnie. He lives just three hours away, but we only get to see each other every other year or so, so it's always good to see him. I'll include a picture of him and my sister as well.

Honoring an Awesome Cousin--an Awesome Man/Husband

It's been way too long since I've posted on this blog. I hope I still have readers. I'm back from my cousin Norman McNulty's wedding at Andrews University in Michigan. I need to post at least one picture of the handsome groom, and his lovely bride, Joelle.

Norman is six years younger than me (I was thirteen years ahead of him in the marriage department). He's the first of my cousins that I can honestly remember growing up from cradle onward.

Norman & I bonded when he was in kindergarten and elementary school. My cousins and I loved sports, and Norman and I were always on the same team, whether it be football, baseball (in Grandma's garden), or basketball. I, the oldest, and Norman, the youngest of the first four boys, played against Donnie and Stephen.

It would take a book to relate all the Norman Stories of those years. He didn't act like the littlest. He was hyper-competitive. He cared more about winning than the rest of us, and he ended up hitting his first home run over Grandma's ivy-covered wall at the age of six. Like me, he loved Pete Rose--although he later abandoned the Reds for the Chicago Cubs. This, I believe, was the beginning of Norman's long fall from grace--into a top academy and college student, a passionate and well-spoken Christian leader, and, sadly, an MD. (He is currently in residency for neurology.)

Norm, if you'd stayed a Reds fan, you could have been somebody!

Last weekend, Norman married the love of his life, the former Joelle Darmsteegt. What can I say about Joelle? She's beautiful, thoughtful, and she has made my beloved cousin tremendously happy. Other than that.... There is no other than that at this point. I am really happy for them both.

Congratulations, Norman & Joelle!!

Theological, Triune Elinor

Ellie and Owen went to vacation bible school at the Highland Church this week. (This is the church that thought that the up-tempo VBS music was inappropriate for the Sanctuary, so they have to have it in the school gymnasium, 1/4-mile away.)

Anyway, they learned this beautiful, beautiful song based on the Hebrew shalma (Deuteronomy 6:4):

"Hear O Israel, the Lord our God is One."

As Ellie was singing it one night, I pointed out, "Now that is a really Jewish idea. Christians believe in the Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost who act as one. Jews and Muslims like to claim that Christians worship three gods. We don't read that text in the same way Jews do."

Ellie thought about that for a minute. Then she started singing: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is Three."

New Web Site for Jenny's Clinic

The summer is almost over, and I'm trying to wrap up my many goals for the summer.

My sixth draft of my Egypt novel is in the books. It is now entitled Nile Borne: a Girl, a Sandal, and the Prince of Egypt. I've sent out five queries to agents already--and, I'm happy to say, I received my first "No thanks" this morning. Glad I got that out of the way.

I also set up a web site for Jenny's clinic. The address is HopeFamilyHealth.org, and you are welcome to check it out. I particularly recommend the picture on the "Meet Our Staff" page, because it has a beautiful woman in it.

More Evil...Personified

I had some excellent responses to my last blog. I was going to follow up in the comments, but I think it merits a new blog. If you haven't read the earlier post, be sure to go there first.

I'm not going to try to ignore sections of the Bible. I'm growing as a Believer, and this blog was more of a reflection of my personal growth and understanding of temptation.

For example, when I read the story of Jesus in the desert, I'm drawn by the nature of the temptations, rather than the case for or against the Tempter. Here's a dynamic man with tremendous potential for good (and evil--let's face it), being tempted to satiate his appetite, his need for celebrity/notoriety, or outright power.

Now I'm not going to point at the Bible and say, "The temptations were real, but there wasn't actually a being who said that to Him." But I am tempted by those same things--and I haven't had Lucifer present them to me.

For example, I have seen a powerful extra-biblical rendering of the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane in which the Devil appeared to Christ. His final temptation was to simply offer him a way out of the garden, away from the soldiers. I found this rendering compelling, because it gave me a new sense of just how difficult this was (and I later wrote a manuscript that incorporated the arguments of Job into the context of Gethsemane because of this very, extra-biblical scene).

Was Jesus tempted in this way that night? Almost certainly. Was it delivered by an otherworldly being or through the more conventional avenue of thought or appetite? Does the answer really matter?

I'll close with three points:

• I believe that Goodness became incarnate, lived on this earth, resisted temptation, sacrificed itself for my sins, and then was resurrected to show me the goal of a grace-filled life. Is it possible to believe in Goodness incarnate without also believing in Evil incarnate? In other words, does a believer have to believe in Satan in order to be saved?
• An analogy to the Lucifer problem would be the Hitler problem. Adolf Hitler lived and died long before I existed. Even though he died, people are still fighting against him today. We're always warned that 'he's coming back if we aren't careful,' and 'weak' leaders are compared to Neville Chamberlain. At best, this means that the spirit of intolerance that he embodied still exists, and we must resist it (I can accept this). At worst, he is a label that people can conveniently use. For example, Americans were told that by fighting Saddam Hussein, we were preventing another Hitler. Neo-cons refer to their enemies as "Islamo-fascists," promising more war, more bloodshed, more torture, more oppression, all in the name of Adolf Hitler.
• At a church that I attended until a year and a half ago, the consequences of a string of terrible decisions by the church leaders were described from the pulpit as "Satan attacking the church." By association, then, members who didn't agree with the leaders were tools of Satan. By association, then, leaders weren't responsible for bad decisions, but Satan was. This was abuse, taking Lucifer's name in vain, and it may be the root of the reason for my antipathy to the existence of Satan.
  

Do I Believe in Satan?

I was listening to Andy Gullahorn, one of my favorite prog-Christian-folk singers the other day, and this lyric came on:

If I were the devil, I wouldn't wear red
I wouldn't breath fire cause it might give me away.

I started thinking about the Devil, and I was surprised by what came to mind.

I realized that I don't believe in Satan, and I don't think I have for some time. Is this wrong? Do you have to believe in the Devil to get into heaven--or hell?

Let me explain.

A few years ago I read a book review about the History of Satan. It talked about how different cultures had tried to personify Evil, and it mentioned that Satan hadn't even been introduced into the Bible until people like the Second Isaiah came back from exile in Persia. The more I thought about it, the more I figured the Embodiment of Evil must be some kind of a cop-out--you know, an intellectually lazy way to identify evil and run with it.

As I was listening to the song, I thought about the whole "war in heaven," scenario where Lucifer was cast down, but instead of being killed--"the wages of sin is death"--he was allowed to live indefinitely. Human beings were created, then, to pay the wages of the sins of Lucifer and his angels. And when they messed up, they really got it, even though Adam was a "son of God" and both he and Eve had eaten of the Tree of Life. Jesus, the Son of God, came to save humanity, but will not save Satan, whom he will destroy in the Judgment Day.

Am I missing something here?

This is a story within a story. The story of humanity's creation and redemption happens within the meta-story of Lucifer's Fall and his FALL/destruction. I understand my part--and God's--in the middle layer. Does the meta layer really concern me? I can't imagine any way to actually prove either that this took place or that my understanding of it can in any way affect the very real battle I wage with Evil every day.

At best, it is a simplistic way to explain where evil came from and where it's going to end up. At worst, it is a trick, a diversion to take my focus off the real battle. "Watch out for the guy with the pitchfork. Evil comes from the outside, not from within."

So if there is no Embodiment of Evil, what do I believe in, then? I think I'm more pre-Exile in my approach to Evil. The world is full of false gods and overwhelming temptations. I serve the only God who can deliver me from that. I'm not sure that temptation comes from an outside source as much as it originates within my own corrupt character--my insatiable appetite, how easily I am distracted from pursuing Good. God's Blood and Body within me extinguish this corruption, and bring the evil of my own heart to light. I don't know that they have any affect on Satan.

Does this make sense? This is the first time I've really written about this or expressed these thoughts, although I've had them for quite some time. Some people can grapple with Evil better when it is personified. I don't have a problem with that. I do wish to call evil by its right name. I have seen what it can do, and I look forward to its ultimate destruction.

The Losingest Team in Professional Sports

This week, the Philadelphia Phillies baseball will become the first professional team in any sport, any country to achieve their 10,000th loss.

How is this possible? Here are some facts:

• Since their founding as a professional team in 1883, they have experienced fewer than 50 winning seasons (a won-loss record about 50%). Do the math: In 124 years, they have had 75 LOSING seasons.
• The team won its first World Series Championship in 1980, its 98th season. (By comparison, the Boston Red Sox and Chicago Cubs, two dominant teams in the early 1900s have more celebrated streaks. The Red Sox's championship in 2004 came 86 years after their last. The Cubs haven't won a World Series since 1908, a 99-year streak.)
• The Phillies were the last team in baseball to integrate (add black players) in 1957, ten whole years after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier.
• In 1960, their manager, Eddie Sawyer quit after ONE GAME, saying, "I'm 49, and I want to live to be 50."
• In 1964, they blew a ten-game lead in the last two weeks of the season, losing the chance to go to the World Series.
• In 1993, they lost the World Series to the Toronto Blue Jays on one of the most spectacular home runs in history: Joe Carter's 3-run blast in the bottom of the 9th of Game Six.

Of course, this makes it easier for me to stomach the last-place performance of my own Cincinnati Reds this year.

There is Pain, and then there is PAIN

I am a huge baseball fan (and a pretty good fantasy manager, my team recently reeled off a four-game winning streak).

Nothing could dampen my love for the game. Nothing...except perhaps this.



The hilarious part is the way the umpire comes up behind the player and can't resist checking to make sure his own manhood is still intact!