Hollywood is picking on me.
I didn't realize this was true, until I heard about the recent uproar by UNICO and other Italian-American organizations regarding "Shark Tale."
"Shark Tale" is the newest computer-animated movie from DreamWorks SKG. The movie, which debuted at theaters on Friday, debases Italian-Americans because it includes a shark mafia whose members speak with Italian accents and use Italian phrases such as capisce and consigliere.
Even though the film actually is spoofing the genre of mob movies, and even though the sharks end up being portrayed sympathetically, this film is a wholly undeserved ethnic smear. Everyone knows that Mafia crime families actually speak Swedish, not Italian, and like crime families from other nationalities, they are pleasant, law-abiding groups that enjoy a nice round of croquet after dinner.
That "Shark Tale" follows so closely on the heels of Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ," which depicted Italian soldiers as a bloodthirsty, sadistic lot who tortured the Son of God to death, just adds insult to injury. Everyone knows the soldiers who killed Jesus Christ were actually French.
It really shouldn't surprise anyone that Hollywood has it in for Italian -Americans. If you look at a history of the movies, it's obvious that movie studios will hate anybody if it boosts box office receipts.
I'm not Italian, but like many other Americans, I have a wide and varied ethnic heritage because of our nation's legacy as a melting pot. Every ethnic group to which I can claim some connection by blood has been tarnished by the cultural elite behind movies and TV.
Think about all the movies you've seen about World War II. Whether it's "Saving Private Ryan," "Band of Brothers" or "Force 10 from Navarone," you'll notice a common thread woven throughout them all: Germans are bad guys. German soldiers routinely kill American troops and support the evil regime of Adolf Hitler.
Watch a movie such as "The Pianist" or "Schindler's List," and it gets even worse. Now Germans are linked with the Holocaust and the extermination of 6 million Jews.
"Gladiator" started at a battle line where the Romans were about to fight against German barbarians. The Germans appear nowhere else in the movie, and are present only for one reason: to be denigrated, and further the director's racist agenda.
What's the message we're supposed to take away from all this? Clearly, it's that when German-Americans aren't mindless barbarians running around the woods in animal skins, we're all Nazi sympathizers who hate Jews. As a German-American, I take great exception to that, and think that the next time Hollywood sees fit to do a movie about World War II, it should forget the spin just for a moment and remember all the nice pretty flowers that grow along the Rhine.
In addition to my German heritage, I can trace my roots back to England. My English heritage gets just as thorough a drubbing as my German side.
In "Braveheart," we follow the exploits of folk hero William Wallace as he fights for Scottish independence from the English King Edward Longshanks. Longshanks is portrayed as a ruthless man who maintains order in Scotland through rape, through brutality and through the wholesale slaughter of whoever gets in his way.
He has no qualms about giving orders to kill his own soldiers in order to take out the Scots, he heartlessly bludgeons his own son and pushes his son's lover out the window and offers peace with one hand even as he moves his other to attack. The English in "The Patriot" display the same complete lack of virtue.
And in "U-571," the entire British contribution to capturing the U-boat not only was ignored, it was supplanted with fictitious accounts of American involvement.
Rather than celebrating the beauty of English culture and England's contributions to history, Hollywood treats us again and again to supposed barbarity so that when someone sees an English name, they don't see a person, they see an ethnic identity.
This is an unconscionable thing to do to my children, who must now grow up under the stigma of being German-Americans and English-Americans, rather than being accepted as full-class citizens in their own right and on their own merits.
I could go on. I also have a French ancestor, a nation disparaged in "The Pirates of the Caribbean," and an ancestress who was an American Indian, a race disparaged in everything from "Rin Tin Tin" to the films of John Wayne.
No matter where you turn, people have a reason to complain about popular entertainment depicting them in a negative light.
I wish it would stop.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
On the existence or non of ghosts
If you want to drive a youth pastor crazy or stir up trouble in a college Christian fellowship, all it takes is one simple question: "Do you believe in ghosts?"
Ghosts don't fit in particularly well with mot Christian perspectives on the afterlife. Many believers would agree that when a person dies, they go either to heaven or to hell, so there's not much room for ghosts. As a consequence, many evangelicals and fundamentalists, faced with the thorny question, will insist that ghosts are simply demons impersonating a dead soul. Nice, neat solution.
The problem is that the Bible sometimes mentions ghosts, not to say that they exist, but to indicate that people in Bible times either held such superstitions or at least were aware of them. The gospel mentions that when the Apostles saw Jesus walking on water, they thought he was a ghost, for instance, Later, after the Resurrection, he urges them to touch his corporeal body, saying, "See, I am not a ghost."
And then there's the story of Saul and the witch of Endor.
At the end of 1 Samuel, King Saul goes to Endor to ask a medium to conjure the spirit of the prophet Samuel, so he can find out what will happen when he goes to fight the Philistines. The news isn't encouraging. "You and your sons will all die," Samuel's spirit says to him.
Now the Bible's pretty clear that this is the shade of Samuel rising from the ground, and judging from the text, it seems no one is happy about the situation. Samuel is angry that Saul has summoned his spirit, which the Levitical code expressly forbids, Saul is disheartened by the news, and the witch herself is freaked out. But the Bible is clear that this is Samuel, not something else pretending to be Samuel.
The ancient Hebrews believed the dead, whether good, bad or indifferent, went to Sheol, which is Hebrew for the grave (the Greek equivalent is Hades). This was more or less synonymous with the graves where dead bodies were interred, hence the phrase we see repeated in the Tanakh that so-and-so "died and was laid with his fathers" -- because so-and-so literally was laid with fathers.
The testimony that the witch of Endor summoned Samuel comes from the Tanakh itself, which says that Samuel's spirit rose from the ground. It doesn't say an unclean spirit, nor Sathanas, nor any other name -- just Samuel.
I don't have a firm stand on ghosts. There are people who swear up and down that they've had experiences they can't explain any way other than paranormally, but a lot of people are just nuts. People who believe in ghosts often just don't think through all the natural or even psychological possibilities that would explain the phenomena in question, if for no other reason than a paranormal one is more exciting.
But I won't rule out the possibility that ghosts exist. I don't like a world where everything is defined into neat little piles, because I don't believe God made the world to be like that. While most of us will fall asleep until the Last Day when we awaken to judgment, I won't rule out the possibility that there are some restless spirits that can't sleep, for whatever reason.
And that may be why I'm not a youth pastor.
Ghosts don't fit in particularly well with mot Christian perspectives on the afterlife. Many believers would agree that when a person dies, they go either to heaven or to hell, so there's not much room for ghosts. As a consequence, many evangelicals and fundamentalists, faced with the thorny question, will insist that ghosts are simply demons impersonating a dead soul. Nice, neat solution.
The problem is that the Bible sometimes mentions ghosts, not to say that they exist, but to indicate that people in Bible times either held such superstitions or at least were aware of them. The gospel mentions that when the Apostles saw Jesus walking on water, they thought he was a ghost, for instance, Later, after the Resurrection, he urges them to touch his corporeal body, saying, "See, I am not a ghost."
And then there's the story of Saul and the witch of Endor.
At the end of 1 Samuel, King Saul goes to Endor to ask a medium to conjure the spirit of the prophet Samuel, so he can find out what will happen when he goes to fight the Philistines. The news isn't encouraging. "You and your sons will all die," Samuel's spirit says to him.
Now the Bible's pretty clear that this is the shade of Samuel rising from the ground, and judging from the text, it seems no one is happy about the situation. Samuel is angry that Saul has summoned his spirit, which the Levitical code expressly forbids, Saul is disheartened by the news, and the witch herself is freaked out. But the Bible is clear that this is Samuel, not something else pretending to be Samuel.
The ancient Hebrews believed the dead, whether good, bad or indifferent, went to Sheol, which is Hebrew for the grave (the Greek equivalent is Hades). This was more or less synonymous with the graves where dead bodies were interred, hence the phrase we see repeated in the Tanakh that so-and-so "died and was laid with his fathers" -- because so-and-so literally was laid with fathers.
The testimony that the witch of Endor summoned Samuel comes from the Tanakh itself, which says that Samuel's spirit rose from the ground. It doesn't say an unclean spirit, nor Sathanas, nor any other name -- just Samuel.
I don't have a firm stand on ghosts. There are people who swear up and down that they've had experiences they can't explain any way other than paranormally, but a lot of people are just nuts. People who believe in ghosts often just don't think through all the natural or even psychological possibilities that would explain the phenomena in question, if for no other reason than a paranormal one is more exciting.
But I won't rule out the possibility that ghosts exist. I don't like a world where everything is defined into neat little piles, because I don't believe God made the world to be like that. While most of us will fall asleep until the Last Day when we awaken to judgment, I won't rule out the possibility that there are some restless spirits that can't sleep, for whatever reason.
And that may be why I'm not a youth pastor.
Friday, September 24, 2004
red dwarf
At the moment my wife and I are on a tremendous "Red Dwarf" kick. We borrowed the first four seasons on DVD from a friend, and have been working our way through them.
I'd already read two of the books, and am pleasantly amazed at how smeggingly different the two versions of the story on while still remaining faithful to the same vision. The TV show came first, followed later by the books. The author -- a gestalt entity known as Grant Naylor -- did a superb job with the adaptation, and shows how you can improve a story in many ways by adapting it instead of slavishly retelling it.
Good series, really. If you liked "Hitchhiker's Guide," you'll like "Red Dwarf" too.
At this point, we've watched the first four seasons on DVD, and I've read two of the three books. Great stuff. I wasn't aware there had been discussion of a U.S. version of the series, but I don't doubt it wouldn't have been great stuff. It probably would have added new meaning to the word "suckage." Look what FOX did to "Dr. Who." (Or, better yet, don't. You're better off not knowing.)
The show did have some challenges, with the cast originally limited to Lister, Holly, Rimmer's hologram, the Cat and Lister's toaster, but I think it rose to the challenge admirably.
I'd already read two of the books, and am pleasantly amazed at how smeggingly different the two versions of the story on while still remaining faithful to the same vision. The TV show came first, followed later by the books. The author -- a gestalt entity known as Grant Naylor -- did a superb job with the adaptation, and shows how you can improve a story in many ways by adapting it instead of slavishly retelling it.
Good series, really. If you liked "Hitchhiker's Guide," you'll like "Red Dwarf" too.
At this point, we've watched the first four seasons on DVD, and I've read two of the three books. Great stuff. I wasn't aware there had been discussion of a U.S. version of the series, but I don't doubt it wouldn't have been great stuff. It probably would have added new meaning to the word "suckage." Look what FOX did to "Dr. Who." (Or, better yet, don't. You're better off not knowing.)
The show did have some challenges, with the cast originally limited to Lister, Holly, Rimmer's hologram, the Cat and Lister's toaster, but I think it rose to the challenge admirably.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Stupid hang-ups I have (and one I don't)
- I cannot, for the life of me, open a canister of Pillsbury biscuits. As soon as I try, I get a tight feeling across my shoulder blades and find myself cringing just at the thought. For some reason, that Pop! always gets to me and I've become hopelessly conditioned to dread it. (Perhaps it was the unfortunate accident I had as a child.)
- Makeup in general holds no attraction to me, but lipstick actually grosses me out. Even just the word. I'm fortunate that Natasha has never worn makeup, except for once when she was a teenager. It's not like she needs it, either -- she looks absolutely beautiful without it.
- I also count steps as I take them. I've heard that that's actually one of the symptoms of obsessive-compulsive behavior, which has always troubled me slightly. So apparently I also have a hangup about possibly having an undiagnosed neurosis.
- And while we're on the subject of compulsions, I sometimes will stare at the clock, to catch the numbers changing. I get keyed up by the 12:34 thing. I was disappointed when I realized I had missed 12:34:56 on July 8 1990, especially since I had missed 1:23:45 June 7, 1989, the year previously.
- I also peel dried glue off bottles of glue -- it's been a compulsion of mine since I was in elementary school.
- My younger brother has long had a hangup about buttons. Even now as a 32-year-old, he can't wear a button-down shirt. I've seen him start choking and gasping for breath in a psychosomatic response to wearing a shirt with buttons. Apparently as a young child he developed a fear that a button would pop off his shirt and go into his mouth.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
spiritual growth
About six months ago, Evangeline committed herself to Christ. I really have no idea how deep that commitment it is, but I have no doubt it was as real a commitment as a 4-year-old can make and Christ will honor it.
I have to say, it's been tremendous watching her grow in understanding. There have been amusing moments, as expected, such as a few weeks ago when I didn't have my hair tied back, and Evangeline said, "Daddy, you look like Jesus!" But there have been other, incredible moments as we've talked about the faith together. A while ago she asked me why she can see the Jesus in "The Miracle Maker" and in "Jesus Christ Superstar," but our Jesus is invisible. So I had to explain the Incarnation to her, and that Christ is now in heaven but is with us spiritually. A couple days ago, she asked how Jesus could be God if he was God's Son, and I could tell she wasn't entirely satisfied by my attempt to explain the doctrine of the Trinity. (Join the club, kiddo.)
One time, she asked me if we can see heaven, and I said that sometimes we can see heaven when we really love another person and act to them like Jesus wants us to. Another time, after we had read the Genesis account of creation, she thought for a minute and then said quite seriously, "Daddy, I don't think the sky is heaven."
I remember one time she prayed the Lord's Prayer,
"Our Father in heaven,
Hallowed be your name
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done
On earth as in heaven.
Daddy took the stick away from me at preschool,
And I said, 'Daddy, that was a bad choice.You're in time out.'
In Jesus' name,
Amen."
Her prayers are a little simpler right now. She usually just prays along with me at bedtime, but she also often thanks God for "all the fun I've had today, including the things I didn't like."
During family devotions, though, she's astounded me. We really just started having them this past week while I've been at home on vacation time, but she's taken right to them with a minimum of fuss. Natasha surprised me by pulling out an old hymnal I didn't know she had, and E has blown me away twice now by asking to sing "Nothing but the Blood of Jesus" -- and more times by knowing the words to other hymns like "Old Rugged Cross," "It is Well" and "My Jesus, I Love Thee." (The first song she ever sang actually was "Silent Night," a byproduct of my singing hymns to her as an infant to get her to sleep.)
Rachel, who is only 23 months, is already enjoying worship too. She sings along with "Jesus Loves Me" and last Sunday when Natasha went to pick her up from her Sunday School class, where they had been watching some video or another, Rachel said, "Mommy, watching Jesus!"
It's kind of intimidating and awe-inspiring. My kids are finding out as toddlers what I didn't discover until I was almost 18. I can only hope that I pass on to them by the time they turn 18 the parts of the gospel I didn't figure out until I was over 30.
I have to say, it's been tremendous watching her grow in understanding. There have been amusing moments, as expected, such as a few weeks ago when I didn't have my hair tied back, and Evangeline said, "Daddy, you look like Jesus!" But there have been other, incredible moments as we've talked about the faith together. A while ago she asked me why she can see the Jesus in "The Miracle Maker" and in "Jesus Christ Superstar," but our Jesus is invisible. So I had to explain the Incarnation to her, and that Christ is now in heaven but is with us spiritually. A couple days ago, she asked how Jesus could be God if he was God's Son, and I could tell she wasn't entirely satisfied by my attempt to explain the doctrine of the Trinity. (Join the club, kiddo.)
One time, she asked me if we can see heaven, and I said that sometimes we can see heaven when we really love another person and act to them like Jesus wants us to. Another time, after we had read the Genesis account of creation, she thought for a minute and then said quite seriously, "Daddy, I don't think the sky is heaven."
I remember one time she prayed the Lord's Prayer,
"Our Father in heaven,
Hallowed be your name
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done
On earth as in heaven.
Daddy took the stick away from me at preschool,
And I said, 'Daddy, that was a bad choice.You're in time out.'
In Jesus' name,
Amen."
Her prayers are a little simpler right now. She usually just prays along with me at bedtime, but she also often thanks God for "all the fun I've had today, including the things I didn't like."
During family devotions, though, she's astounded me. We really just started having them this past week while I've been at home on vacation time, but she's taken right to them with a minimum of fuss. Natasha surprised me by pulling out an old hymnal I didn't know she had, and E has blown me away twice now by asking to sing "Nothing but the Blood of Jesus" -- and more times by knowing the words to other hymns like "Old Rugged Cross," "It is Well" and "My Jesus, I Love Thee." (The first song she ever sang actually was "Silent Night," a byproduct of my singing hymns to her as an infant to get her to sleep.)
Rachel, who is only 23 months, is already enjoying worship too. She sings along with "Jesus Loves Me" and last Sunday when Natasha went to pick her up from her Sunday School class, where they had been watching some video or another, Rachel said, "Mommy, watching Jesus!"
It's kind of intimidating and awe-inspiring. My kids are finding out as toddlers what I didn't discover until I was almost 18. I can only hope that I pass on to them by the time they turn 18 the parts of the gospel I didn't figure out until I was over 30.
favoritism
I'm looking for some perspective here, particularly from other parents, about something that's been troubling me for more than two years.
I find myself continually favoring one child over the other.
This first came up back when Chris was still here. I don't remember how it came up, but one evening in the kitchen by ourselves Niki spelled it out for me point-blank: "You love him more than you love your own daughter."
That hurt, but I couldn't argue with her. It was true. I had been making an effort to shoulder more of the burden with Chris because he was such a handful for Niki and she had a hard time dealing with his issues, and in the process ended up spending more time with him than I was spending with Eowyn, and becoming closer emotionally to him than I had been with Eowyn.
I made a point of correcting that, and spent as much time with Eowyn as I could. I went out of my way to mend the relationship with her and to make it clear to her that I love her with all my heart. Although it's been strained by the hours I've had to give Worrall NEwspapers, Eowyn and I have a strong relationship.
You can probably tell where this is going. I don't feel as close to Ruth as I do to Eowyn, and -- I hate to say this -- I don't enjoy her as much as I do Eowyn. I love to watch her develop and I take pleasure in her accomplishments, and I enjoy going for walks with her and letting her sleep on my shoulder -- but the relationship I have with Eowyn is not there. I don't know what it is -- maybe it's because Eowyn has a lot of my personality and some similar interests, and Ruth until recently has been the quiet, personalityless baby -- but I find myself time and again favoring Eowyn over Ruth.
It actually started fairly early on. For whatever reason, when Eowyn was a newborn, I could walk her around for hours and never once complain about the lost sleep or the time it took for her to settle down. With Ruth, I never had that zeal for staying up with her, and tonight found myself resenting the fit she threw about having to go to sleep, and the inconvenience at having to let her sleep on my chest until Niki came home.
I'm told this is fairly natural and normal, and it may very well be so, but it still eats at me. I don't *want* to play favorites. I want my children each to feel and to be special to their father, and I don't want one of them being able to point at another and say, "There's the one Dad loves." My brothers and I can do that to an extent with our mother, and even can point to where it shifted from one brother to another; and my mother never had any doubts which of her sisters was favored by which parent -- and who get what was left over, if anything.
In some ways, I suppose the situation here is to be expected. Ruth was born less than a month after Chris moved back with his parents. She came at the best possible time -- her arrival helped us to move on from our grief -- and also at the worst possible time -- the joy that should have welcomed her arrival was mixed with tears. (The painful irony is that Ruth is named after my grandmother, whose older brother had died shortly before she was born. My great-grandfather wanted a son to replace the one he had lost, and never got over her being a girl. I also wanted a son.)
So ... any insight from other parents here? How do you avoid playing favorites with your children? And how have others of us dealt with seeing the favoritism that our parents played?
I find myself continually favoring one child over the other.
This first came up back when Chris was still here. I don't remember how it came up, but one evening in the kitchen by ourselves Niki spelled it out for me point-blank: "You love him more than you love your own daughter."
That hurt, but I couldn't argue with her. It was true. I had been making an effort to shoulder more of the burden with Chris because he was such a handful for Niki and she had a hard time dealing with his issues, and in the process ended up spending more time with him than I was spending with Eowyn, and becoming closer emotionally to him than I had been with Eowyn.
I made a point of correcting that, and spent as much time with Eowyn as I could. I went out of my way to mend the relationship with her and to make it clear to her that I love her with all my heart. Although it's been strained by the hours I've had to give Worrall NEwspapers, Eowyn and I have a strong relationship.
You can probably tell where this is going. I don't feel as close to Ruth as I do to Eowyn, and -- I hate to say this -- I don't enjoy her as much as I do Eowyn. I love to watch her develop and I take pleasure in her accomplishments, and I enjoy going for walks with her and letting her sleep on my shoulder -- but the relationship I have with Eowyn is not there. I don't know what it is -- maybe it's because Eowyn has a lot of my personality and some similar interests, and Ruth until recently has been the quiet, personalityless baby -- but I find myself time and again favoring Eowyn over Ruth.
It actually started fairly early on. For whatever reason, when Eowyn was a newborn, I could walk her around for hours and never once complain about the lost sleep or the time it took for her to settle down. With Ruth, I never had that zeal for staying up with her, and tonight found myself resenting the fit she threw about having to go to sleep, and the inconvenience at having to let her sleep on my chest until Niki came home.
I'm told this is fairly natural and normal, and it may very well be so, but it still eats at me. I don't *want* to play favorites. I want my children each to feel and to be special to their father, and I don't want one of them being able to point at another and say, "There's the one Dad loves." My brothers and I can do that to an extent with our mother, and even can point to where it shifted from one brother to another; and my mother never had any doubts which of her sisters was favored by which parent -- and who get what was left over, if anything.
In some ways, I suppose the situation here is to be expected. Ruth was born less than a month after Chris moved back with his parents. She came at the best possible time -- her arrival helped us to move on from our grief -- and also at the worst possible time -- the joy that should have welcomed her arrival was mixed with tears. (The painful irony is that Ruth is named after my grandmother, whose older brother had died shortly before she was born. My great-grandfather wanted a son to replace the one he had lost, and never got over her being a girl. I also wanted a son.)
So ... any insight from other parents here? How do you avoid playing favorites with your children? And how have others of us dealt with seeing the favoritism that our parents played?
Saturday, September 18, 2004
following a false jesus
I recently came to the shocking discovery that I've been following a false Jesus.
It was in the car a couple weeks ago, as I was driving home from work. It had been another long day on the job during a rough week, and I was worn out from it all. I was praying with that fearsome anger of someone who has been wronged, praying for justice.
I had every reason to want justice. My employers are notorious cheapskates who don't pay their employees well, who don't hire enough people and then expect the workers they do have to work doubly hard, without overtime compensation, to get the job done.
I had missed seeing my girls all day -- again.
I had missed reading them stories, praying with them, and tucking them into bed -- again.
I had failed to be there for my wife when the day grew long and tensions wore on her nerves -- again.
I had suffered one loss after another, and endured one abuse after another, for a job I hated with employers who couldn't care less whether they drained dry the people who were earning them their fortunes.
I wanted God to show them what they were doing, not just to me but to a dozen other people I knew. I wanted God to show my employers that they were making themselves rich at our expense, and I wanted them to know what Scripture warned about people who hoard wealth and deny workers their wages.
I was getting positively excited at the thought of their comeuppance, and was ready to dance with glee on the rubble when suddenly it hit me: I knew exactly what Simon had expected when he became Jesus' disciple.
Although he's often overlooked because of that other Simon in the gospels, Simon the Zealot is an important figure for us to remember. As a Zealot, Simon was looking for a Messiah who was going to come lift up downtrodden Israel and throw mighty Rome down to the ground. He was going to right all the wrongs, punish the wicked and shake all the Roman sympathizers right out of the house.
To Simon, in love with his liberating and conquering Messiah, the Suffering Servant embodied by Jesus must have seemed practically heretical. If it weren't for the miracles, it's possible Simon wouldn't have given Jesus a chance.
But Simon did give Jesus a chance, and over the three years Simon was a disciple, he became acquainted with the Cross. He got to understand that the way Jesus showed us isn't about hungering for revenge, even when we call it justice. Over those three years, Jesus told Simon to turn the other cheek and not to resist an evil person. And while Jesus did urge the well-to-do to assume their obligation for the poor, he saved his harshest words for religious hypocrites and always led by example.
Simon eventually got the idea of the Cross -- that we're supposed to see people made in the image of God, not enemies. After all, one of the other disciples was Levi, a Jew who worked as a tax collector for the Roman occupiers and made himself rich in the process. I'm sure the two had their more awkward moments during Jesus' ministry, but eventually Levi, who wrote the gospel of Matthew, joined Simon the Zealot in a martyr's death.
For my part, I went back to the Cross and asked forgiveness for straying -- again. After all, this isn't the first false Jesus whom I've let lead me astray. There's been the false Jesus who got me to look down on unbelievers, and there was his brother, the false Jesus who got to look down at other believers and revile them as non-Christians or as worldly. Other false Jesuses have taught me to think that if I follow Christ's commands that I'll be rewarded with wealth, with happiness or some other fleeting blessing, when Christ actually promises the exact opposite. Some have got me to attempt great things for the god who lies within me and who is always trying to divert my attention from the God I swore to serve.
One thing is always the same. Whether it's the false Jesus Simon served, the false Jesus Matthew served, the one Peter served, or some other false Jesus, he always takes my eyes off the Cross.
The Cross is where I belong. That's my sin dies and my spirit soars to life again. It's where my faith the size of a mustard seed can see impossible things happen, and it's where I find communion not just with Christ, but with all sorts of other people who, just like me, don't get it -- except for those brief shining moments when we're touched by grace and the lights come on.
If you've been following a false Jesus too -- and you know you have -- then come join me at the Cross. Because that's the other thing about the Cross -- it's where our false Jesuses are put to death, and we get to see the real one instead.
It was in the car a couple weeks ago, as I was driving home from work. It had been another long day on the job during a rough week, and I was worn out from it all. I was praying with that fearsome anger of someone who has been wronged, praying for justice.
I had every reason to want justice. My employers are notorious cheapskates who don't pay their employees well, who don't hire enough people and then expect the workers they do have to work doubly hard, without overtime compensation, to get the job done.
I had missed seeing my girls all day -- again.
I had missed reading them stories, praying with them, and tucking them into bed -- again.
I had failed to be there for my wife when the day grew long and tensions wore on her nerves -- again.
I had suffered one loss after another, and endured one abuse after another, for a job I hated with employers who couldn't care less whether they drained dry the people who were earning them their fortunes.
I wanted God to show them what they were doing, not just to me but to a dozen other people I knew. I wanted God to show my employers that they were making themselves rich at our expense, and I wanted them to know what Scripture warned about people who hoard wealth and deny workers their wages.
I was getting positively excited at the thought of their comeuppance, and was ready to dance with glee on the rubble when suddenly it hit me: I knew exactly what Simon had expected when he became Jesus' disciple.
Although he's often overlooked because of that other Simon in the gospels, Simon the Zealot is an important figure for us to remember. As a Zealot, Simon was looking for a Messiah who was going to come lift up downtrodden Israel and throw mighty Rome down to the ground. He was going to right all the wrongs, punish the wicked and shake all the Roman sympathizers right out of the house.
To Simon, in love with his liberating and conquering Messiah, the Suffering Servant embodied by Jesus must have seemed practically heretical. If it weren't for the miracles, it's possible Simon wouldn't have given Jesus a chance.
But Simon did give Jesus a chance, and over the three years Simon was a disciple, he became acquainted with the Cross. He got to understand that the way Jesus showed us isn't about hungering for revenge, even when we call it justice. Over those three years, Jesus told Simon to turn the other cheek and not to resist an evil person. And while Jesus did urge the well-to-do to assume their obligation for the poor, he saved his harshest words for religious hypocrites and always led by example.
Simon eventually got the idea of the Cross -- that we're supposed to see people made in the image of God, not enemies. After all, one of the other disciples was Levi, a Jew who worked as a tax collector for the Roman occupiers and made himself rich in the process. I'm sure the two had their more awkward moments during Jesus' ministry, but eventually Levi, who wrote the gospel of Matthew, joined Simon the Zealot in a martyr's death.
For my part, I went back to the Cross and asked forgiveness for straying -- again. After all, this isn't the first false Jesus whom I've let lead me astray. There's been the false Jesus who got me to look down on unbelievers, and there was his brother, the false Jesus who got to look down at other believers and revile them as non-Christians or as worldly. Other false Jesuses have taught me to think that if I follow Christ's commands that I'll be rewarded with wealth, with happiness or some other fleeting blessing, when Christ actually promises the exact opposite. Some have got me to attempt great things for the god who lies within me and who is always trying to divert my attention from the God I swore to serve.
One thing is always the same. Whether it's the false Jesus Simon served, the false Jesus Matthew served, the one Peter served, or some other false Jesus, he always takes my eyes off the Cross.
The Cross is where I belong. That's my sin dies and my spirit soars to life again. It's where my faith the size of a mustard seed can see impossible things happen, and it's where I find communion not just with Christ, but with all sorts of other people who, just like me, don't get it -- except for those brief shining moments when we're touched by grace and the lights come on.
If you've been following a false Jesus too -- and you know you have -- then come join me at the Cross. Because that's the other thing about the Cross -- it's where our false Jesuses are put to death, and we get to see the real one instead.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
what's it to ya?
Let's look at one of the little mysteries of Scripture.
In the very last verses of the gospel of John, Jesus and Peter are walking along the shore and have their chat about whether Peter loves him. At the end of the conversation, Peter looks back and sees John, and asks, "Lord, what about him?"
Jesus responds, "If I want him to remain until I return, what is it to you?"
John goes on to add that because of this, the rumor started to spread among the believers that John would not die, but Jesus did not say he would die. He merely said "If I want him to remain until I return, what is it to you?"
I believe that every word in Scripture has meaning on at least one level, but usually on more. If Jesus meant simply, "It's none of your business what happens to John," he could have said so in a bazillion different ways.
So what did he mean by "If I want him to remain until I return, what is it to you?" If all he meant was "It's none of your beeswax" -- and I believe that not only is a valid interpretation, but one of the layers of meaning -- then why not say, "It's none of your business?" Or, if he wanted to be poetic, why not say, "If I want him to grow antlers and sing at bar mitzvahs, what is that to you?"
Good literary analysis holds that the choice of words in a passage, particularly when it's cryptic or suggestive like this is, there's more than one layer of meaning.
I compare it to the fate of Enoch, when the author of Genesis writes "Enoch walked with the Lord, and then he was no more for the Lord took him away." On the face of it, that means Enoch died, end of the story, game over. But it's such a clever way to say it -- and it differs from all the other deaths in that genealogy, where the author writes "And then he died," so it's completely reasonable to assume that Enoch didn't just die, but was translated.
In Acts 1, the disciples ask Jesus if he's going to restore the Kingdom of Israel. What is it Jesus says? Not "If I want to wait a couple millennia to do it, what is that to you?" but "It is not for you to know the times and dates the Father has set by his own authority."
There you have it. Point-blank, in-your-face "This is none of your business." But that's NOT how he answered Peter's question. Which means to me that that wasn't his whole intent.
The Revelation explanation -- that John was physically present for a vision of the End Times, and hence was "alive until I return" -- is one I heard back in college, but I don't quite buy it.
That seems to be suggesting that John saw futuristic events but didn't understand them, so he developed weird images like locusts that sting like scorpions, and green mice that run uphill in the moonlight. That just sounds ridiculous, particularly when you consider how much of the imagery of Revelation is found in earlier prophetic books, particularly from the Tanakh.
I wouldn't be surprised if the closing verses in John are partly the basis for the old legend about the Wandering Jew.
Good Bible study involve asking "Why did it happen this way?" I find I get the most understanding of Scripture and what Christ does in us when I try to understand the people and the dynamics involved. Knowing more about a seder makes lights come on during a reading of the Last Supper that would have stayed off if I hadn't read the haggadah before last Easter.
And as I said, good literary analysis involves looking at cases where a simpler response wasn't used, particularly when you consider that Jesus had other occasions where he spoke quite plainly: "Then neither will I tell you by whose authority I am doing these things" or "It is not for you to know the times and dates the Father has set by his own authority."
That Jesus said anything beyond "What is it to you?" makes his comments worth considering; that John heavily implies that Jesus didn't mean John would never die makes it doubly intriguing to think about.
Given the context of the quote, I think tjos take on it is the best one: that Jesus is saying it's going to be a while until he returns, and John will outlive all the others. Jesus just told Peter how he would die -- when you are old you will stretch out your hands and be taken where you do not wish to go -- so it makes sense that Jesus is saying something about John's fate.
Our college IVCF staff worker was big on the idea that Christ's prophesied "coming on the clouds in judgment" was a reference to A.D. 70, when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and that other prophecies we consider to be End Times refer to the Last Days of the covenant with Israel. (I do not subscribe to this belief.)
In that sense, you could argue that John lived until Jesus came again, since he was not martyred, but lived to see the church become an increasingly Gentile body, saw the sack of Jerusalem under Vespasian and also witnessed the end of the Caesars, when Nero, last of the Julio-Claudians, was killed.
In the very last verses of the gospel of John, Jesus and Peter are walking along the shore and have their chat about whether Peter loves him. At the end of the conversation, Peter looks back and sees John, and asks, "Lord, what about him?"
Jesus responds, "If I want him to remain until I return, what is it to you?"
John goes on to add that because of this, the rumor started to spread among the believers that John would not die, but Jesus did not say he would die. He merely said "If I want him to remain until I return, what is it to you?"
I believe that every word in Scripture has meaning on at least one level, but usually on more. If Jesus meant simply, "It's none of your business what happens to John," he could have said so in a bazillion different ways.
So what did he mean by "If I want him to remain until I return, what is it to you?" If all he meant was "It's none of your beeswax" -- and I believe that not only is a valid interpretation, but one of the layers of meaning -- then why not say, "It's none of your business?" Or, if he wanted to be poetic, why not say, "If I want him to grow antlers and sing at bar mitzvahs, what is that to you?"
Good literary analysis holds that the choice of words in a passage, particularly when it's cryptic or suggestive like this is, there's more than one layer of meaning.
I compare it to the fate of Enoch, when the author of Genesis writes "Enoch walked with the Lord, and then he was no more for the Lord took him away." On the face of it, that means Enoch died, end of the story, game over. But it's such a clever way to say it -- and it differs from all the other deaths in that genealogy, where the author writes "And then he died," so it's completely reasonable to assume that Enoch didn't just die, but was translated.
In Acts 1, the disciples ask Jesus if he's going to restore the Kingdom of Israel. What is it Jesus says? Not "If I want to wait a couple millennia to do it, what is that to you?" but "It is not for you to know the times and dates the Father has set by his own authority."
There you have it. Point-blank, in-your-face "This is none of your business." But that's NOT how he answered Peter's question. Which means to me that that wasn't his whole intent.
The Revelation explanation -- that John was physically present for a vision of the End Times, and hence was "alive until I return" -- is one I heard back in college, but I don't quite buy it.
That seems to be suggesting that John saw futuristic events but didn't understand them, so he developed weird images like locusts that sting like scorpions, and green mice that run uphill in the moonlight. That just sounds ridiculous, particularly when you consider how much of the imagery of Revelation is found in earlier prophetic books, particularly from the Tanakh.
I wouldn't be surprised if the closing verses in John are partly the basis for the old legend about the Wandering Jew.
Good Bible study involve asking "Why did it happen this way?" I find I get the most understanding of Scripture and what Christ does in us when I try to understand the people and the dynamics involved. Knowing more about a seder makes lights come on during a reading of the Last Supper that would have stayed off if I hadn't read the haggadah before last Easter.
And as I said, good literary analysis involves looking at cases where a simpler response wasn't used, particularly when you consider that Jesus had other occasions where he spoke quite plainly: "Then neither will I tell you by whose authority I am doing these things" or "It is not for you to know the times and dates the Father has set by his own authority."
That Jesus said anything beyond "What is it to you?" makes his comments worth considering; that John heavily implies that Jesus didn't mean John would never die makes it doubly intriguing to think about.
Given the context of the quote, I think tjos take on it is the best one: that Jesus is saying it's going to be a while until he returns, and John will outlive all the others. Jesus just told Peter how he would die -- when you are old you will stretch out your hands and be taken where you do not wish to go -- so it makes sense that Jesus is saying something about John's fate.
Our college IVCF staff worker was big on the idea that Christ's prophesied "coming on the clouds in judgment" was a reference to A.D. 70, when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and that other prophecies we consider to be End Times refer to the Last Days of the covenant with Israel. (I do not subscribe to this belief.)
In that sense, you could argue that John lived until Jesus came again, since he was not martyred, but lived to see the church become an increasingly Gentile body, saw the sack of Jerusalem under Vespasian and also witnessed the end of the Caesars, when Nero, last of the Julio-Claudians, was killed.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
demonology
A friend of mine launches a discussion on the Christian doctrine of demons
1: Do you believe there is such a thing as a literal "demon"? If so, where do you think they came from?
Pittsburgh.
No, seriously, I'd say the testimony of Scripture is pretty clear that there are spiritual entities that are evil, but what they are, doctrines are going to vary. The traditional explanation, which I side with by default, is that demons are fallen angels that took place in a rebellion against God back at the beginning.
That's not entirely stated within Scripture. Christ bears witness that he saw Satan "fall from heaven like lightning," and there is a passage in the book of Revelation that talks about a war in heaven that ended with a third of the stars being cast from the sky. We assign that story to the beginning, but I'm not clear on why, except that it's what we do.
The Greek New Testament calls the spirits Jesus casts out of people "unclean spirits," with no explanation of where they came from, although the spirits recognize Jesus as the Holy One of God and recognize that they have a date with destiny.
The prophet Micah, in 1 Kings, declares that God sent a lying spirit into Ahab's court so that Ahab's prophets would all promise him victory, so that Ahab would go into battle and be killed. The book of Job also has Satan entering the presence of God and giving an accounting of his activities to God. So while Scripture clearly indicates that Satan is in opposition to God's kingdom and his plan, it also shows that he is subject to him, which makes for a different sort of rebellion than we usually imagine.
There was a school of thinking among the ancient Hebrews that Satan was a servant of God whose job was to take the opposite view and be (you'll pardon the phrase) the Devil's Advocate. That certainly seems to be one of the functions he has.
But yes, I believe in demons and devils, even though I won't claim to know definitively and exactly what they are.
Do you think that "demon-possession" is often a case of a misunderstanding of a health problem, either physical or psychological? Are tales of such things from the Bible a superstitious view based on incomplete understanding by the authors?
I think there's some overlap. Some people are like Father Zosima in the Brothers Karamazov, who saw more devils than hell could hold. To them, any head cold or missed parking space is an attack by Old Scratch. Other people believe everything has a natural cause and completely disbelieve in angelic or demonic beings -- what Lewis called the two equal but opposite errors concerning the Devil.
Sometimes mental illness is demonic affliction. Other times it's just mental illness. Same is true for physical ailments, I would say.
Just because something has a physical cause doesn't mean it's rooted solely in the physical world. The natural world is a subset of the supernatural world, and so the supernatural world is able to affect the natural world we live in, in ways that we cannot perceive, just as our physical activities have repercussions in the spiritual world.
So to answer your question, my short answer is No, and my long answer is Yes, but.
Demon possession seemed to be very common in Jesus' time, at least compared to today. Why do you think that is? Is it because of the sort of misunderstanding mentioned above, or were there other issues at work? Do you think maybe the stories are a metaphor?
Like everything else in the Bible, the accounts of deliverance from demonic possession are layered with meaning and can be interpreted correctly in several different lights. I believe they happened pretty much as described.
As to the explosion in demonic activity, I'd say it's because of Christ's grand entrance onto the world stage. The world and its people didn't notice much at first, but in the spiritual world Mary's pregnancy was a rock that shattered mighty empires into dust that blew away, and then grew into a mountain that covered the earth.
And I'd say demonic activity is just as pronounced now as in New Testament times, but I think we're inclined to disbelieve it because we're more enlightened.
I've been through demonic oppression. I know other people who have been. I know two people who claim to have been demon possessed, and a few others who claim to have cast demons out of people. (I'm sure someone's going to make charges of crackpottery, but there you have it.)
Interesting points: The Greek word we translate as "possession" also gets translated as "anointing" when it's used to describe the Holy Spirit and his effect upon Christians. Thus it's not possession as much as it is an unholy anointing of sin, or, as could be said, "demonization."
Other interesting point: The New Testament authors used the same word to describe Jesus casting out demons as they did to describe what he did to the money changers in the temple.
Do you think it's possible that even modern medical problems, fully understood by medical science, are in some way physical manifestations of spiritual conflicts?
I already answered this, but yes, I do.
For example, I have a severe case of psoriasis. It covers about 20 percent of my body. The biological causes of psoriasis are all well documented: hyperactive immune system from not being breastfed as an infant, stress factors, skin damage, weight problems, zinc shortage, blah blah blah.
Let me focus on the stress factor. Do you think just maybe that there could be something even slightly demonic that could trigger a stress attack and lead to a flareup in psoriasis? That's a minor thing, of course, and I'm not saying that Satan has given me a severe case of psoriasis, but I do think it could be a physical side effect of something else like a spiritual attack that has nothing to do with the health of my skin.
1: Do you believe there is such a thing as a literal "demon"? If so, where do you think they came from?
Pittsburgh.
No, seriously, I'd say the testimony of Scripture is pretty clear that there are spiritual entities that are evil, but what they are, doctrines are going to vary. The traditional explanation, which I side with by default, is that demons are fallen angels that took place in a rebellion against God back at the beginning.
That's not entirely stated within Scripture. Christ bears witness that he saw Satan "fall from heaven like lightning," and there is a passage in the book of Revelation that talks about a war in heaven that ended with a third of the stars being cast from the sky. We assign that story to the beginning, but I'm not clear on why, except that it's what we do.
The Greek New Testament calls the spirits Jesus casts out of people "unclean spirits," with no explanation of where they came from, although the spirits recognize Jesus as the Holy One of God and recognize that they have a date with destiny.
The prophet Micah, in 1 Kings, declares that God sent a lying spirit into Ahab's court so that Ahab's prophets would all promise him victory, so that Ahab would go into battle and be killed. The book of Job also has Satan entering the presence of God and giving an accounting of his activities to God. So while Scripture clearly indicates that Satan is in opposition to God's kingdom and his plan, it also shows that he is subject to him, which makes for a different sort of rebellion than we usually imagine.
There was a school of thinking among the ancient Hebrews that Satan was a servant of God whose job was to take the opposite view and be (you'll pardon the phrase) the Devil's Advocate. That certainly seems to be one of the functions he has.
But yes, I believe in demons and devils, even though I won't claim to know definitively and exactly what they are.
Do you think that "demon-possession" is often a case of a misunderstanding of a health problem, either physical or psychological? Are tales of such things from the Bible a superstitious view based on incomplete understanding by the authors?
I think there's some overlap. Some people are like Father Zosima in the Brothers Karamazov, who saw more devils than hell could hold. To them, any head cold or missed parking space is an attack by Old Scratch. Other people believe everything has a natural cause and completely disbelieve in angelic or demonic beings -- what Lewis called the two equal but opposite errors concerning the Devil.
Sometimes mental illness is demonic affliction. Other times it's just mental illness. Same is true for physical ailments, I would say.
Just because something has a physical cause doesn't mean it's rooted solely in the physical world. The natural world is a subset of the supernatural world, and so the supernatural world is able to affect the natural world we live in, in ways that we cannot perceive, just as our physical activities have repercussions in the spiritual world.
So to answer your question, my short answer is No, and my long answer is Yes, but.
Demon possession seemed to be very common in Jesus' time, at least compared to today. Why do you think that is? Is it because of the sort of misunderstanding mentioned above, or were there other issues at work? Do you think maybe the stories are a metaphor?
Like everything else in the Bible, the accounts of deliverance from demonic possession are layered with meaning and can be interpreted correctly in several different lights. I believe they happened pretty much as described.
As to the explosion in demonic activity, I'd say it's because of Christ's grand entrance onto the world stage. The world and its people didn't notice much at first, but in the spiritual world Mary's pregnancy was a rock that shattered mighty empires into dust that blew away, and then grew into a mountain that covered the earth.
And I'd say demonic activity is just as pronounced now as in New Testament times, but I think we're inclined to disbelieve it because we're more enlightened.
I've been through demonic oppression. I know other people who have been. I know two people who claim to have been demon possessed, and a few others who claim to have cast demons out of people. (I'm sure someone's going to make charges of crackpottery, but there you have it.)
Interesting points: The Greek word we translate as "possession" also gets translated as "anointing" when it's used to describe the Holy Spirit and his effect upon Christians. Thus it's not possession as much as it is an unholy anointing of sin, or, as could be said, "demonization."
Other interesting point: The New Testament authors used the same word to describe Jesus casting out demons as they did to describe what he did to the money changers in the temple.
Do you think it's possible that even modern medical problems, fully understood by medical science, are in some way physical manifestations of spiritual conflicts?
I already answered this, but yes, I do.
For example, I have a severe case of psoriasis. It covers about 20 percent of my body. The biological causes of psoriasis are all well documented: hyperactive immune system from not being breastfed as an infant, stress factors, skin damage, weight problems, zinc shortage, blah blah blah.
Let me focus on the stress factor. Do you think just maybe that there could be something even slightly demonic that could trigger a stress attack and lead to a flareup in psoriasis? That's a minor thing, of course, and I'm not saying that Satan has given me a severe case of psoriasis, but I do think it could be a physical side effect of something else like a spiritual attack that has nothing to do with the health of my skin.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
woo-hoo!
Nothing definite yet, but it looks like my wife is going to be getting a full-time job at Rutgers, with full benefits. That will mean a slight drop in income, but there won't be all this extra mileage on the car, or our contribution to a mediocre health plan. With some free-lancing and minor P.R. opportunities, it might even work out to about even.
It also means she'll be getting experience and probably some field work in the field she has a master's degree in. She wouldn't have had this talk with her lab supervisor if I hadn't convinced her we just needed to up and up leave WCN.
On a lesser note, I got to tell my supervisor off today. (Not really. I'm being melodramatic, but I did politely and respectfully convey my disgruntlement in a nonconfrontational manner, and I got my point across.) The look on his face was priceless. I don't think it ever had occurred to him that other people might have been interested in the two posts they filled recently (associate editor and flagship managing editor), and that they might have angered or insulted employees by not advertising the posts before filling them.
Honestly, I don't know what the problem is with these people. I said last year in a meeting with the editor in chief and again with one of the owners that I was at a point of burnout and needed a major change. It's not something I've tried to keep secret, and I've made several suggestions of things I could do that would have been a better match for my interests and abilities than what I have now. (Naturally, as I went over some of my areas of concern/frustration today, Mark's whole suggestion was to spread the disease around by giving some of my writing responsibilities to the Cranford reporter.)
So now it looks like I might be able to give them two weeks' notice on Friday, about two weeks ahead of when I had planned to. And we'll have a stronger plan than we originally had hoped.
God willing, of course. The lab supervisor has to crunch the numbers properly and make sure she can give the job to my wife, but she seemed fairly confident of it when they spoke today.
Strictly speaking, I suppose there's no woo-hoo until it actually happens, but just the prospect has buoyed my spirits tremendously
It also means she'll be getting experience and probably some field work in the field she has a master's degree in. She wouldn't have had this talk with her lab supervisor if I hadn't convinced her we just needed to up and up leave WCN.
On a lesser note, I got to tell my supervisor off today. (Not really. I'm being melodramatic, but I did politely and respectfully convey my disgruntlement in a nonconfrontational manner, and I got my point across.) The look on his face was priceless. I don't think it ever had occurred to him that other people might have been interested in the two posts they filled recently (associate editor and flagship managing editor), and that they might have angered or insulted employees by not advertising the posts before filling them.
Honestly, I don't know what the problem is with these people. I said last year in a meeting with the editor in chief and again with one of the owners that I was at a point of burnout and needed a major change. It's not something I've tried to keep secret, and I've made several suggestions of things I could do that would have been a better match for my interests and abilities than what I have now. (Naturally, as I went over some of my areas of concern/frustration today, Mark's whole suggestion was to spread the disease around by giving some of my writing responsibilities to the Cranford reporter.)
So now it looks like I might be able to give them two weeks' notice on Friday, about two weeks ahead of when I had planned to. And we'll have a stronger plan than we originally had hoped.
God willing, of course. The lab supervisor has to crunch the numbers properly and make sure she can give the job to my wife, but she seemed fairly confident of it when they spoke today.
Strictly speaking, I suppose there's no woo-hoo until it actually happens, but just the prospect has buoyed my spirits tremendously
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
a great way to turn 34
Fantastic birthday today. My 34th.
I got to go home early, thanks mostly to things being in disarray at the newspaper and a series of essential phone calls not being returned. So I went home and got to spend a few hours with the girls, unwrapping presents that E wrapped by herself, with help from her mother only on the tape. She also gave me a handmade card, the girls sang "Happy Birthday" to me -- even R, although she only got in every fifth syllable or so -- and well, heck, we had a great time.
I got to go home early, thanks mostly to things being in disarray at the newspaper and a series of essential phone calls not being returned. So I went home and got to spend a few hours with the girls, unwrapping presents that E wrapped by herself, with help from her mother only on the tape. She also gave me a handmade card, the girls sang "Happy Birthday" to me -- even R, although she only got in every fifth syllable or so -- and well, heck, we had a great time.
Friday, August 20, 2004
requiem to the forbidden love of youth
Have you ever had a relationship so deep and meaningful that when it ended, you felt as though a part of you had died? I have.
For the entire second year of our marriage, my wife and I shared our house, our back yard — yes, our very lives — with a mattress called Spring Air. Initially, I admit, we regarded Spring Air as an inconvenience, a twin-size mattress left in the driveway by the house’s previous owner, but as time went on, Spring Air came to mean something more to me. Something special.
Natasha will always be the love of my life, but I can’t deny that Spring Air came to hold a place in my heart as well. Even now, years later, I still recall it with a sad wistfulness normally reserved for third-grade crushes.
The mattress grew on me slowly, but when we threw a housewarming party that July, Spring Air was there, along with some of our best friends from church and from college. It said little, being shy, and it mostly hung out on the side of the house away from the guests rather than mingle with them.
This behavior didn’t particularly surprise me. Mattresses are not social creatures, and they rarely spend much time with more than one or two people in the course of their lives. This also probably was its first party, so some bashfulness was to be expected.
But there was no mistaking the sensation it caused. In its own quiet way, Spring Air quickly became a conversation piece among our guests, who invariably revered it as the most unusual piece of patio furniture they ever had seen. Our picnic table and every one of our chairs have been used repeatedly, but not one person dared to use Spring Air for an afternoon nap. Such was the respect we held it in.
In time, Spring Air became something of an attraction, or perhaps a celebrity. People came from Maryland, from Pennsylvania, from Arizona and from Vermont and asked to see the mattress. Ours became known as the only house on the block — perhaps in the city or in all Iowa — to have a mattress in the back yard.
Spring Air became like family to us. It stayed with us all summer long and into the autumn. When Tropical Storm Floyd hit New Jersey in 1999, destroying communities like Manville and Bound Brook and wreaking havoc in places like Cranford, the mattress stoically braved the elements and protected our house as best it could.
When our first child was born, Spring Air kept vigil while we were at the hospital. And when we brought Evangeline home for the first time, it was there, waiting for us patiently, and never once reproached me for not telling it when she had been born.
To my knowledge, the mattress never once asked for anything. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and Easter all came and went, and Spring Air stayed outside on the patio without once asking to come in and have a bit of turkey, to sing carols around the tree or even just to dry out.
And so the days passed. Snow fell, lingered and melted away. Winter turned to spring, and in their turn, spiders, insects and a few species of mold I’ve never identified made that mattress their home.
From time to time, Natasha, in a surprising bit of jealousy, gently would hint that Spring Air had overstayed its welcome, and she would ask me to escort it to the roadside.
“I think we have to make special arrangements before they’ll take it away,” I would say as I stalled for time.
Trouble began brewing in earnest in the spring. Leaves that had gone unraked over the winter because my time was needed inside with the baby had piled up against Spring Air, and as they rotted around it, the mattress began to make a stink. Its bright colors had faded, and visitors who saw Spring Air began to remark that it should go.
The fateful day arrived early one morning in late May. Coming back from her office one day, Natasha saw something that set her aquiver with excitement. A homeowner a block away from us had put a queen-size mattress and box spring out on the curb with his regular garbage.
I knew as soon as she told me that Spring Air’s days were numbered. Less than a week later, I dragged it out to the curb. Time and the elements had not been kind to our guest. Practically new when we had moved in, it had aged prematurely, and I knew it was time to put it down.
I leaned it against a tree between our house and the one next door in case there was an extra fee associated with leaving oversize items out for collection, and I said my goodbyes.
“I guess this is it,” I said. “It’s best if you leave tomorrow morning. I don’t want the zoning officer to fine us for keeping you outside. It’s probably against a city ordinance.”
Spring Air said nothing, and wouldn’t even look at me. I could tell I had hurt its feelings.
The next morning I watched, misty-eyed, as city workers picked up our mattress and threw it into the garbage truck. Even from where I stood, I could feel its resentment at this betrayal.
“I could have stayed forever,” it seemed to say sullenly. “See how your flowers and picnic table fare. I never would have biodegraded on you.” I watched as it rode slowly away aboard the garbage truck.
It never even tried to look back.
Copyright © 2000, 2004 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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Retold from "Mattress of My Heart."
For the entire second year of our marriage, my wife and I shared our house, our back yard — yes, our very lives — with a mattress called Spring Air. Initially, I admit, we regarded Spring Air as an inconvenience, a twin-size mattress left in the driveway by the house’s previous owner, but as time went on, Spring Air came to mean something more to me. Something special.
The mattress grew on me slowly, but when we threw a housewarming party that July, Spring Air was there, along with some of our best friends from church and from college. It said little, being shy, and it mostly hung out on the side of the house away from the guests rather than mingle with them.
This behavior didn’t particularly surprise me. Mattresses are not social creatures, and they rarely spend much time with more than one or two people in the course of their lives. This also probably was its first party, so some bashfulness was to be expected.
But there was no mistaking the sensation it caused. In its own quiet way, Spring Air quickly became a conversation piece among our guests, who invariably revered it as the most unusual piece of patio furniture they ever had seen. Our picnic table and every one of our chairs have been used repeatedly, but not one person dared to use Spring Air for an afternoon nap. Such was the respect we held it in.
In time, Spring Air became something of an attraction, or perhaps a celebrity. People came from Maryland, from Pennsylvania, from Arizona and from Vermont and asked to see the mattress. Ours became known as the only house on the block — perhaps in the city or in all Iowa — to have a mattress in the back yard.
Spring Air became like family to us. It stayed with us all summer long and into the autumn. When Tropical Storm Floyd hit New Jersey in 1999, destroying communities like Manville and Bound Brook and wreaking havoc in places like Cranford, the mattress stoically braved the elements and protected our house as best it could.
When our first child was born, Spring Air kept vigil while we were at the hospital. And when we brought Evangeline home for the first time, it was there, waiting for us patiently, and never once reproached me for not telling it when she had been born.
To my knowledge, the mattress never once asked for anything. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and Easter all came and went, and Spring Air stayed outside on the patio without once asking to come in and have a bit of turkey, to sing carols around the tree or even just to dry out.
And so the days passed. Snow fell, lingered and melted away. Winter turned to spring, and in their turn, spiders, insects and a few species of mold I’ve never identified made that mattress their home.
From time to time, Natasha, in a surprising bit of jealousy, gently would hint that Spring Air had overstayed its welcome, and she would ask me to escort it to the roadside.
“I think we have to make special arrangements before they’ll take it away,” I would say as I stalled for time.
Trouble began brewing in earnest in the spring. Leaves that had gone unraked over the winter because my time was needed inside with the baby had piled up against Spring Air, and as they rotted around it, the mattress began to make a stink. Its bright colors had faded, and visitors who saw Spring Air began to remark that it should go.
The fateful day arrived early one morning in late May. Coming back from her office one day, Natasha saw something that set her aquiver with excitement. A homeowner a block away from us had put a queen-size mattress and box spring out on the curb with his regular garbage.
I knew as soon as she told me that Spring Air’s days were numbered. Less than a week later, I dragged it out to the curb. Time and the elements had not been kind to our guest. Practically new when we had moved in, it had aged prematurely, and I knew it was time to put it down.
I leaned it against a tree between our house and the one next door in case there was an extra fee associated with leaving oversize items out for collection, and I said my goodbyes.
“I guess this is it,” I said. “It’s best if you leave tomorrow morning. I don’t want the zoning officer to fine us for keeping you outside. It’s probably against a city ordinance.”
Spring Air said nothing, and wouldn’t even look at me. I could tell I had hurt its feelings.
The next morning I watched, misty-eyed, as city workers picked up our mattress and threw it into the garbage truck. Even from where I stood, I could feel its resentment at this betrayal.
“I could have stayed forever,” it seemed to say sullenly. “See how your flowers and picnic table fare. I never would have biodegraded on you.” I watched as it rode slowly away aboard the garbage truck.
It never even tried to look back.
Copyright © 2000, 2004 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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Retold from "Mattress of My Heart."
pondering the revolution
I wrote this elsewhere, as part of a discussion with other Christians about Jeffersonian ideals about the right of the citizenry to overthrow a government they consider unjust, such as with the American Revolution. I'm reposting it, primarily because I think it's an interesting line of thought.
Paul writes in his epistles that everyone should be subject to the authorities, for there is no authority that God did not establish. (Standard exceptions of conscience, although it's understood when the time comes to face the consequences for that defiance, there's a Christlike surrender.)
Paul wasn't talking about a democratic government with duly elected representatives, a Bill of Rights and trial lawyers to see that your rights were protected. He was talking about the Roman Empire, one of the greatest and sometimes most brutal empires in history.
The Roman Empire had a state religion, although it allowed people to practice other religions that had received state approval.
The Roman Empire through conquest and colonization had annexed most of Europe, along with parts of Africa and parts of Asia. (Evidence has been found of a Roman presence in North America, but we'll assume that was fluke rather than imperial policy.) It didn't care much for provinces that resisted their rule, as Judea discovered in AD 70 under Titus Vespasian, and again under Marcus Aurelius in the third century.
The Roman Empire also had some of the cruelest, most capricious and depraved emperors in history. Tiberius was a monster; Caligula, utterly insane, married his sister Drusilla, declared himself to be Jupiter, and when he bankrupted the empire's coffers, he refilled them by killing whomever he wanted and taking their property; Claudius was mentally retarded and while he was emperor, the empire was run through him by his wives and various advisers, who often worked to their own interests at the expense of Rome and its empire; Nero was as monstrous as the previous three put together, and then some; Domitian was well known for his persecution of Christians; Commodus was a sadist who enjoyed torturing people in the gladiator pit; and you had other emperors like Vespasian and Marcus Aurelius, who saw nothing wrong with destroying cities that were difficult to rule.
We all complain about taxes, but the tax system in Rome was horribly corrupt. Tax collectors were told to get a certain amount of money, and Rome didn't care how much else they got or how they got it, as long as Rome got its share.
We also complain about the justice system nowadays. In Rome, thieves were crucified -- the cruelest and most painful means of execution ever developed, and one which the Romans refined for further pain. This was a fate also used for murderers, brigands and runaway slaves. In fact, at the time Paul was alive, the Roman Senate ordered something like 700 slaves executed because *one* of them had killed their master in his sleep.
Freedom of speech? Forget it. People who criticized the empire disappeared. I read about one fellow who was locked in a cell and driven to such hunger that he ate his mattress before he finally hanged himself. Augustus, generally regarded as the best of Rome's emperors, banned men of noble birth from the stage and had one actor sent into exile because he had given the audience the finger after being booed for a lousy performance.
Rome was a fascist state, and yet Paul told people to submit to it.
Are you so sure it would be a good idea to rise up against the American government if it became what Jefferson feared it might?
Paul writes in his epistles that everyone should be subject to the authorities, for there is no authority that God did not establish. (Standard exceptions of conscience, although it's understood when the time comes to face the consequences for that defiance, there's a Christlike surrender.)
Paul wasn't talking about a democratic government with duly elected representatives, a Bill of Rights and trial lawyers to see that your rights were protected. He was talking about the Roman Empire, one of the greatest and sometimes most brutal empires in history.
The Roman Empire had a state religion, although it allowed people to practice other religions that had received state approval.
The Roman Empire through conquest and colonization had annexed most of Europe, along with parts of Africa and parts of Asia. (Evidence has been found of a Roman presence in North America, but we'll assume that was fluke rather than imperial policy.) It didn't care much for provinces that resisted their rule, as Judea discovered in AD 70 under Titus Vespasian, and again under Marcus Aurelius in the third century.
The Roman Empire also had some of the cruelest, most capricious and depraved emperors in history. Tiberius was a monster; Caligula, utterly insane, married his sister Drusilla, declared himself to be Jupiter, and when he bankrupted the empire's coffers, he refilled them by killing whomever he wanted and taking their property; Claudius was mentally retarded and while he was emperor, the empire was run through him by his wives and various advisers, who often worked to their own interests at the expense of Rome and its empire; Nero was as monstrous as the previous three put together, and then some; Domitian was well known for his persecution of Christians; Commodus was a sadist who enjoyed torturing people in the gladiator pit; and you had other emperors like Vespasian and Marcus Aurelius, who saw nothing wrong with destroying cities that were difficult to rule.
We all complain about taxes, but the tax system in Rome was horribly corrupt. Tax collectors were told to get a certain amount of money, and Rome didn't care how much else they got or how they got it, as long as Rome got its share.
We also complain about the justice system nowadays. In Rome, thieves were crucified -- the cruelest and most painful means of execution ever developed, and one which the Romans refined for further pain. This was a fate also used for murderers, brigands and runaway slaves. In fact, at the time Paul was alive, the Roman Senate ordered something like 700 slaves executed because *one* of them had killed their master in his sleep.
Freedom of speech? Forget it. People who criticized the empire disappeared. I read about one fellow who was locked in a cell and driven to such hunger that he ate his mattress before he finally hanged himself. Augustus, generally regarded as the best of Rome's emperors, banned men of noble birth from the stage and had one actor sent into exile because he had given the audience the finger after being booed for a lousy performance.
Rome was a fascist state, and yet Paul told people to submit to it.
Are you so sure it would be a good idea to rise up against the American government if it became what Jefferson feared it might?
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
It's time to leave hell behind
There's a great storyline in Neil Gaiman's "Sandman" where the King of Dreams journeys into hell to free a woman he sent there for spurning his love from endless years of torment.
Dream arrives at the gates of hell, expecting opposition, and finds instead silence. To everyone's dismay, Lucifer Morningstar has decided to quit. He is tired of being the Adversary, worn out from orchestrating the cries of the damned, and tired of overseeing all the many demons and other denizens of hell. So he has quit, thrown the dead out of hell, and is now locking the gate behind him as he leaves.
I'll ignore the unusual soteriology, and focus instead on an interesting point that Gaiman is making through his little horror story: There is no situation so bad that we can't leave it, and no hell so horrible but we are there by our own choice.
I've been fighting hard with this job for more than two years. The pay is miserable, the hours are unbearable, and I am overtaxed even as my skills are underused. At the end of the day, I have little to show for what I have done, while a number of things I would love to be doing -- things that I believe are a fundamental part of God's creation in me -- are being neglected.
It's time to quit.
I don't have another job to go to right now, which is a little unnerving, but I have to consider some other factors as well. I think things are in my favor.
Do we have the finances to last for a while without regular employment? We have about three months' worth of liquid assets if I were to quit now and stop drawing a paycheck. Not a lot, and I'm concerned about insurance, but there is some sort of cushion. Plus, my wife would be able to work more hours and draw a bigger paycheck at her part-time job, and I would be able to pursue other avenues of income, including my own PR business, which has a growing clientele. Additionally, added time at home theoretically translates to more time to look for work and find new clients, as well as pursuing some creative options I need to look into.
Is where I am at a good place to be? I think that's obvious. It's not. This job sucks at my time; it keeps me from my children and wife; it drains me emotionally, spiritually, physically and mentally, and keeps me at a desk so that I could stand to lose 35 or 40 pounds.
I miss two out of every seven days of my children's lives, and pour that time into a job that is increasingly difficult to do, doesn't match my lifestyle and is leading me to produce writing and editing that I'm not proud of. The hours are also insane -- somewhere between 50 and 60 a week, and it's about to increase, because my intern has gone, leaving me to write all the stories myself. I also can't trust my supervisors to care enough to do anything.
Will leaving give me opportunity to grow? I think so. I've got a few nice-paying clients, as I already said, including two I picked up just this week. That's something that will grow. Plus I have leads for part-time work, and have ideas for other challenging, interesting and productive ways to earn money that require time I don't have right now, ranging from a comic book idea I've discussed with Indigo, to ghost writing, free-lance copy editing and even writing a newspaper column from the point of view of the Religious Left.
What am I teaching my children? That they're more important to me than a job, or that I'd rather spend all my time in a dead-end position with a lousy employer than being with them? That it's important to chase your dreams and be what God has called you to be, or that you should settle for something less than what you are capable of?
What it boils down to for me is where God wants me. I think he wants me to leave, as evidenced by the complete misery I'm in by being here. And if that's what he wants, I'm prepared to take a step of faith and leave WCN behind.
The catch is that it can't be a step I take alone, because I'm not alone. I'm part of a family, and this decision has to be made with my wife's full consent. More than that, I'm part of a community, and any decision I make is going to have ramifications for my community of believers, whether it's hearing me whine and cry about how hard life is, or people stepping in and investing money in helping this to happen.
The last two years have been my worst, careerwise. I've gleaned some good out of it by reaching the point that I have a better idea what I'm capable of and what I require, but I think I'm at the end of the road with this place.
Dream arrives at the gates of hell, expecting opposition, and finds instead silence. To everyone's dismay, Lucifer Morningstar has decided to quit. He is tired of being the Adversary, worn out from orchestrating the cries of the damned, and tired of overseeing all the many demons and other denizens of hell. So he has quit, thrown the dead out of hell, and is now locking the gate behind him as he leaves.
I'll ignore the unusual soteriology, and focus instead on an interesting point that Gaiman is making through his little horror story: There is no situation so bad that we can't leave it, and no hell so horrible but we are there by our own choice.
It's time to quit.
I don't have another job to go to right now, which is a little unnerving, but I have to consider some other factors as well. I think things are in my favor.
Do we have the finances to last for a while without regular employment? We have about three months' worth of liquid assets if I were to quit now and stop drawing a paycheck. Not a lot, and I'm concerned about insurance, but there is some sort of cushion. Plus, my wife would be able to work more hours and draw a bigger paycheck at her part-time job, and I would be able to pursue other avenues of income, including my own PR business, which has a growing clientele. Additionally, added time at home theoretically translates to more time to look for work and find new clients, as well as pursuing some creative options I need to look into.
Is where I am at a good place to be? I think that's obvious. It's not. This job sucks at my time; it keeps me from my children and wife; it drains me emotionally, spiritually, physically and mentally, and keeps me at a desk so that I could stand to lose 35 or 40 pounds.
I miss two out of every seven days of my children's lives, and pour that time into a job that is increasingly difficult to do, doesn't match my lifestyle and is leading me to produce writing and editing that I'm not proud of. The hours are also insane -- somewhere between 50 and 60 a week, and it's about to increase, because my intern has gone, leaving me to write all the stories myself. I also can't trust my supervisors to care enough to do anything.
Will leaving give me opportunity to grow? I think so. I've got a few nice-paying clients, as I already said, including two I picked up just this week. That's something that will grow. Plus I have leads for part-time work, and have ideas for other challenging, interesting and productive ways to earn money that require time I don't have right now, ranging from a comic book idea I've discussed with Indigo, to ghost writing, free-lance copy editing and even writing a newspaper column from the point of view of the Religious Left.
What am I teaching my children? That they're more important to me than a job, or that I'd rather spend all my time in a dead-end position with a lousy employer than being with them? That it's important to chase your dreams and be what God has called you to be, or that you should settle for something less than what you are capable of?
What it boils down to for me is where God wants me. I think he wants me to leave, as evidenced by the complete misery I'm in by being here. And if that's what he wants, I'm prepared to take a step of faith and leave WCN behind.
The catch is that it can't be a step I take alone, because I'm not alone. I'm part of a family, and this decision has to be made with my wife's full consent. More than that, I'm part of a community, and any decision I make is going to have ramifications for my community of believers, whether it's hearing me whine and cry about how hard life is, or people stepping in and investing money in helping this to happen.
The last two years have been my worst, careerwise. I've gleaned some good out of it by reaching the point that I have a better idea what I'm capable of and what I require, but I think I'm at the end of the road with this place.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Sodom and Gomorrah, and gay marriage
Sodom and Gomorrah weren't destroyed because there were homosexuals there. They weren't destroyed even because all but five of the men who lived there were gay. (As a point of order, I feel I must point out that we don't know how many men and women who lived there were gay. The Bible doesn't address it.)
Here's what God provides as the reason for Sodom's destruction, as recorded in Ezekiel 16:48-50.
Even looking at the Genesis account of Sodom's sin in the case of the angels who visited Lot, you can see this. Yes, the Sodomites tell Lot to bring the men out so that they can lie with them, but that's not just gay sex -- that's gay rape, a wholly different matter from consensual sex, and certainly in line with a charge of cruelty to foreigners and strangers.
There's a Talmudic tradition that explains neatly what a sodomite is. The man who says "What's mine is yours, and what's yours is yours" is a saint. The man who says "What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine" is a simpleton. And the man who says "What's mine is mine and what's yours is yours" is a sodomite.
If we're concerned about God judging America, perhaps we need to be less concerned with how non-Christians behave in their bedrooms, and start thinking more about how our own behavior within the Church squares up against God's standards and the call Christ puts on those who presume to call themselves his followers. The harshest words in Scripture aren't for the unbelievers or those outside the Kingdom of God. It's for those of us who identify ourselves by his name and claim to be part of the kingdom.
Here's what God provides as the reason for Sodom's destruction, as recorded in Ezekiel 16:48-50.
48As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, your sister Sodom and her daughters never did what you and your daughters have done.If homosexuality is the "detestable" practice in question, I think it's worth noting that it's the last of several reasons given for God's judgment, after sins like arrogance, gluttony, apathy and indifference to the plight of the poor. In fact, pride is mentioned twice -- cf. the "haughty" charge -- suggesting that was the main offense.
49"'Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.
50"They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen."
Even looking at the Genesis account of Sodom's sin in the case of the angels who visited Lot, you can see this. Yes, the Sodomites tell Lot to bring the men out so that they can lie with them, but that's not just gay sex -- that's gay rape, a wholly different matter from consensual sex, and certainly in line with a charge of cruelty to foreigners and strangers.
There's a Talmudic tradition that explains neatly what a sodomite is. The man who says "What's mine is yours, and what's yours is yours" is a saint. The man who says "What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine" is a simpleton. And the man who says "What's mine is mine and what's yours is yours" is a sodomite.
If we're concerned about God judging America, perhaps we need to be less concerned with how non-Christians behave in their bedrooms, and start thinking more about how our own behavior within the Church squares up against God's standards and the call Christ puts on those who presume to call themselves his followers. The harshest words in Scripture aren't for the unbelievers or those outside the Kingdom of God. It's for those of us who identify ourselves by his name and claim to be part of the kingdom.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
so long, mcgreevey
Big news in New Jersey: The governor has admitted to being gay, and has resigned from office.
My feeling is that the entire story hasn't broken yet. All McGreevey essentially said at his news conference today was "I'm gay, I committed adultery with another man, and now I'm resigning as governor." That doesn't flow. He never once during his speech provided a meaningful explanation for his decision to leave office.
The man he committed adultery with is Golan Cipel, an Israeli citizen whom McGreevey tapped for a high-paying state post on the anti-terrorism commission. (I believe it's a cabinet post.) That was a mini scandal in itself, in that Cipel was a complete outsider. The first anyone in Jersey had heard of him was when the governor brought him here after a visit to Israel two years ago. And of course, the federal government wouldn't work with Cipel because he wasn't a U.S. citizen and therefore lacked security clearance.
Cipel reportedly is filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against McGreevey in state Superior Court in Mercer County, and I've heard that he allegedly was trying to extort money from McGreevey. I've no idea what that's about, though; this obviously is a big news story, and newsrooms everywhere in New Jersey have been going crazy as people try to sift the truth from the rumor and innuendo.
So McGreevey avoided the scandal of being outed by outing himself, but to be honest, I don't think that many New Jerseyans really care if he's gay or not. If he lived in the South, being gay cost him the respect he would need to work with state legislators and probably the trust of the public as well, but that just isn't an issue in New Jersey. It doesn't affect his ability to govern the state.
During his resignation speech this afternoon, McGreevey said something about exposing the governor's office and the state to some sort of risk through his affair. I'm not sure what he meant by that; doubtless the major news agencies like the Associated Press, the Star Ledger, Bergen Record et al are going to be revealing more details about the relationship, particularly once Cipel does file the lawsuit and all the prurient details are out on the table.
Politically this probably is a windfall for the Democratic Party. McGreevey has taken one battering after another almost since the beginning of his governorship, and he was seen as unlikely to win re-election next year. Now with his resignation, Senate President Rich Codey will become acting governor and presumably would have the incumbent's advantage during the 2005 gubernatorial election. If there are problems owing to McGreevey's budget failures and other expenses, all he has to say is, "It's Jim's fault. I've only been here a year." Or the party could simply make him a sacrificial lamb, and let him retire from politics with a hefty pension, and run U.S. Senator Jon Corzine for the governor's seat. Corzine probably would win, given his general popularity in the state as a man who ran for Senate on his own nickel instead of using taxpayer money.
Plenty of people in politics and the media here in New Jersey knew, suspected or had heard that McGreevey is gay, long before his revelation. I wasn't surprised or shocked at all when he said it. My reaction about five minutes into his speech was, "For crying out, just come out and say it."
I don't think the average New Jerseyan cares that the governor is gay, whether they voted for him or not. Probably most don't even care that he had an affair, homosexual or not.
The fact that he appointed Cipel to the homeland security post as an apparent form of cronyism IS problematic to me, and I think to others as well. But that also happened about two years ago.
I'm waiting to find out exactly what led to the resignation.
My feeling is that the entire story hasn't broken yet. All McGreevey essentially said at his news conference today was "I'm gay, I committed adultery with another man, and now I'm resigning as governor." That doesn't flow. He never once during his speech provided a meaningful explanation for his decision to leave office.
The man he committed adultery with is Golan Cipel, an Israeli citizen whom McGreevey tapped for a high-paying state post on the anti-terrorism commission. (I believe it's a cabinet post.) That was a mini scandal in itself, in that Cipel was a complete outsider. The first anyone in Jersey had heard of him was when the governor brought him here after a visit to Israel two years ago. And of course, the federal government wouldn't work with Cipel because he wasn't a U.S. citizen and therefore lacked security clearance.
Cipel reportedly is filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against McGreevey in state Superior Court in Mercer County, and I've heard that he allegedly was trying to extort money from McGreevey. I've no idea what that's about, though; this obviously is a big news story, and newsrooms everywhere in New Jersey have been going crazy as people try to sift the truth from the rumor and innuendo.
So McGreevey avoided the scandal of being outed by outing himself, but to be honest, I don't think that many New Jerseyans really care if he's gay or not. If he lived in the South, being gay cost him the respect he would need to work with state legislators and probably the trust of the public as well, but that just isn't an issue in New Jersey. It doesn't affect his ability to govern the state.
During his resignation speech this afternoon, McGreevey said something about exposing the governor's office and the state to some sort of risk through his affair. I'm not sure what he meant by that; doubtless the major news agencies like the Associated Press, the Star Ledger, Bergen Record et al are going to be revealing more details about the relationship, particularly once Cipel does file the lawsuit and all the prurient details are out on the table.
Politically this probably is a windfall for the Democratic Party. McGreevey has taken one battering after another almost since the beginning of his governorship, and he was seen as unlikely to win re-election next year. Now with his resignation, Senate President Rich Codey will become acting governor and presumably would have the incumbent's advantage during the 2005 gubernatorial election. If there are problems owing to McGreevey's budget failures and other expenses, all he has to say is, "It's Jim's fault. I've only been here a year." Or the party could simply make him a sacrificial lamb, and let him retire from politics with a hefty pension, and run U.S. Senator Jon Corzine for the governor's seat. Corzine probably would win, given his general popularity in the state as a man who ran for Senate on his own nickel instead of using taxpayer money.
Plenty of people in politics and the media here in New Jersey knew, suspected or had heard that McGreevey is gay, long before his revelation. I wasn't surprised or shocked at all when he said it. My reaction about five minutes into his speech was, "For crying out, just come out and say it."
I don't think the average New Jerseyan cares that the governor is gay, whether they voted for him or not. Probably most don't even care that he had an affair, homosexual or not.
The fact that he appointed Cipel to the homeland security post as an apparent form of cronyism IS problematic to me, and I think to others as well. But that also happened about two years ago.
I'm waiting to find out exactly what led to the resignation.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
creative discipline
From the Washington Post:
When Isaac was living with us, we had to discipline him for a number of things, mostly because he had never learned any sort of self-control or self-restraint. Trouble was, our preferred method of discipline — time out — is completely useless for a child who is accustomed to being ignored. If the child is unfazed by discipline, it isn’t working. Sometimes you have to be creative when you discipline a child.
I discovered after a few weeks that his main means of sensory stimulation were tactile, taste and visual. No one had ever talked to him, so speech meant nothing to him, and corporal punishment obviously is out of line for abused kids who aren’t your own, no matter what you may think of it for your own.
But he loved to watch things. When I took him to walk the dog with me, he tripped every 10 feet and would lie there watching cars go by because he found it interesting. I finally got him to stand up by pulling his hat down over his eyes until he did stand.
I found that worked for time outs as well. Isaac absolutely hated being unable to see. So for him, time out became time in a chair with arm rests, with a bag over his head. (When his sense of balance improved, we started having him stand in the corner.) His behavior improved immensely.
We used the food thing primarily as a means of controlling his behavior at the table. He was accustomed to leaving the table, running around and eating at his leisure. Since he needed structure and discipline, the rule became, “Leave the table, leave your food.” He stopped leaving the table.
He also would feed the dog or throw bits of food on the floor. When he did that, he lost the rest of his meal.
If he didn’t eat the meal we gave him — he wasn’t used to fresh produce or healthy food, and preferred chicken nuggets and other processed junk food — that was too bad. At snacktime he got a normal-size snack, and had to wait until the next meal.
His eating habits and table manners improved tremendously as well.
So you have to be creative when it comes to discipline, since not every child is going to respond in the same way. E would think having a hat on her head is funny, although she otherwise hates being in time out.
On those grounds, I understand the hot sauce technique although I don’t think I would use it. For starters, I’m concerned about the associations it could cause with hot foods — I don’t want the girls to think they’re in trouble every time we eat something spicy.
Additionally, when time out is over, I can let the child out of her chair, or I could pull the hat off Isaac’s head. If you spank, it stings for a little, and then the punishment is over.
Hot spices can burn for quite a while. I once picked my nose after chopping jalapeños — a bad idea — and was miserable for about half an hour.
Hot sauce adds a kick to salsa, barbeque, falafel and hundreds of other foods. But some parents use it in a different recipe, one they think will yield better-behaved children: They put a drop of the fiery liquid on a child's tongue as punishment for lying, biting, hitting or other offenses.
"Hot saucing," or "hot tongue," has roots in Southern culture, according to some advocates of the controversial disciplinary method, but it has spread throughout the country. Nobody keeps track of how many parents do it, but most experts contacted for this story, including pediatricians, psychologists and child welfare professionals, were familiar with it.
When Isaac was living with us, we had to discipline him for a number of things, mostly because he had never learned any sort of self-control or self-restraint. Trouble was, our preferred method of discipline — time out — is completely useless for a child who is accustomed to being ignored. If the child is unfazed by discipline, it isn’t working. Sometimes you have to be creative when you discipline a child.
I discovered after a few weeks that his main means of sensory stimulation were tactile, taste and visual. No one had ever talked to him, so speech meant nothing to him, and corporal punishment obviously is out of line for abused kids who aren’t your own, no matter what you may think of it for your own.
But he loved to watch things. When I took him to walk the dog with me, he tripped every 10 feet and would lie there watching cars go by because he found it interesting. I finally got him to stand up by pulling his hat down over his eyes until he did stand.
I found that worked for time outs as well. Isaac absolutely hated being unable to see. So for him, time out became time in a chair with arm rests, with a bag over his head. (When his sense of balance improved, we started having him stand in the corner.) His behavior improved immensely.
We used the food thing primarily as a means of controlling his behavior at the table. He was accustomed to leaving the table, running around and eating at his leisure. Since he needed structure and discipline, the rule became, “Leave the table, leave your food.” He stopped leaving the table.
He also would feed the dog or throw bits of food on the floor. When he did that, he lost the rest of his meal.
If he didn’t eat the meal we gave him — he wasn’t used to fresh produce or healthy food, and preferred chicken nuggets and other processed junk food — that was too bad. At snacktime he got a normal-size snack, and had to wait until the next meal.
His eating habits and table manners improved tremendously as well.
So you have to be creative when it comes to discipline, since not every child is going to respond in the same way. E would think having a hat on her head is funny, although she otherwise hates being in time out.
On those grounds, I understand the hot sauce technique although I don’t think I would use it. For starters, I’m concerned about the associations it could cause with hot foods — I don’t want the girls to think they’re in trouble every time we eat something spicy.
Additionally, when time out is over, I can let the child out of her chair, or I could pull the hat off Isaac’s head. If you spank, it stings for a little, and then the punishment is over.
Hot spices can burn for quite a while. I once picked my nose after chopping jalapeños — a bad idea — and was miserable for about half an hour.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
The hardest part of being an ex pat is the language
The worst part of living in a different country is not the diseases you may catch, it's not the new climes you must weather, and it's not the disorientation of being a stranger in a strange land.
The worst part is the language.
When you don't speak the same lanuage as everyone else around you, you have the mind of an adult burdened by the survival skills of a toddler. You're fully cognizant of your needs, and fully aware of how helpless you are to do anything about them, or even to articulate what they are. In the best of times, you bear this with grace and laugh at your difficulties. The rest of the time you want to run away and cry.
When you don't speak the local language, you are unable to communicate or understand the most basic aspects of life, from "Where's the bathroom?" to "How much do you want for that mango?" In no time at all, you feel like the stupidest person on the face of the earth, such as when I told the yard boy, "Remember, I am garbage" instead of "Remember to take out my garbage."
Eventually you learn important phrases like, "I don't speak your language." This helps, but only moderately. There are times that come too frequently when you trust this trusty phrase out only to discover that the national who is speaking to you is speaking English, and speaking it tolerably well, but they are putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable, or pronouncing a silent letter, or committing some other minor gaffe that makes their speech unfamiliar to you.
Stupidest person on earth is too mild for how you feel on those occasions. Now you don't even understand English, and what's worse, you've just insulted someone who was trying to connect with you by inadvertantly telling him that he's too stupid to speak English properly.
Go get a shovel, dig a hole and climb in. Your only hope as a missionary whose enthusiasm outpaces your mastery of the language is that the Spirit will move, and people will connect with God despite your failings.
I was a missionary in Haiti, but not the sort who did led open-air services and tried to win converts. I initially worked with STEM Ministries, which brought teams to Haiti and other countries for two weeks at a time; and then with Cradle of Life Christian School, teaching English grammar and composition to middle-schoolers.
As a result, I didn't do much preaching in Haiti, but I did try to share the gospel with a other people occasion, if for no other reason than they expected me to and I had the feeling that I should. My first conversation along those lines went something like this:
He got plenty of puzzled looks, but very little response to the altar call. The Holy Spirit was quenched.
Still, my favorite embarrassing gaffe was committed by the late Dale Preiser, another Assemblies of God missionary who had left the country before I arrived. I met him once after I had returned to the United States, when he came to visit my church.
Dale had been in Haiti for a while, and was concerned that he saw a number of believers who were mixing voodoo and Christianity, and going to the voodoo priestess for help when problems arose. The word he wanted was mambo. Unfortunately, the word he used was mamba, and for three solid months he went along Highway One, using this word in his sermons.
"Stay away from the mamba," he warned them. "Mamba is of the devil. You cannot use the mamba without shipwrecking your faith and endangering the faith of others."
Mamba is peanut butter.
Still, the Spirit was moving. I am told that people were very open to this teaching, and sales of peanut butter plummeted wherever Dale went.
Copyright © 2004 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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The worst part is the language.
When you don't speak the same lanuage as everyone else around you, you have the mind of an adult burdened by the survival skills of a toddler. You're fully cognizant of your needs, and fully aware of how helpless you are to do anything about them, or even to articulate what they are. In the best of times, you bear this with grace and laugh at your difficulties. The rest of the time you want to run away and cry.
Eventually you learn important phrases like, "I don't speak your language." This helps, but only moderately. There are times that come too frequently when you trust this trusty phrase out only to discover that the national who is speaking to you is speaking English, and speaking it tolerably well, but they are putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable, or pronouncing a silent letter, or committing some other minor gaffe that makes their speech unfamiliar to you.
Stupidest person on earth is too mild for how you feel on those occasions. Now you don't even understand English, and what's worse, you've just insulted someone who was trying to connect with you by inadvertantly telling him that he's too stupid to speak English properly.
Go get a shovel, dig a hole and climb in. Your only hope as a missionary whose enthusiasm outpaces your mastery of the language is that the Spirit will move, and people will connect with God despite your failings.
I was a missionary in Haiti, but not the sort who did led open-air services and tried to win converts. I initially worked with STEM Ministries, which brought teams to Haiti and other countries for two weeks at a time; and then with Cradle of Life Christian School, teaching English grammar and composition to middle-schoolers.
As a result, I didn't do much preaching in Haiti, but I did try to share the gospel with a other people occasion, if for no other reason than they expected me to and I had the feeling that I should. My first conversation along those lines went something like this:
"If you accept Jesus Christ, he will take away your dogs."Bill Smith, an Assemblies of God missionary whom I knew, told me he once preached an entire sermon in Kreyol once he felt he had gained sufficient mastery of the language. The sermon went well and the Spirit evidently was moving, so he decided to take an altar call and appeal to the congregation that if anyone wanted to follow of Christ, they should signify it by raising their legs into the air and coming forward on their hands.
"My dogs? I don't have any dogs."
"Everyone has dogs, ma'am. But when Jesus forgives them, it's though you never had a dog your entire life."
He got plenty of puzzled looks, but very little response to the altar call. The Holy Spirit was quenched.
Still, my favorite embarrassing gaffe was committed by the late Dale Preiser, another Assemblies of God missionary who had left the country before I arrived. I met him once after I had returned to the United States, when he came to visit my church.
Dale had been in Haiti for a while, and was concerned that he saw a number of believers who were mixing voodoo and Christianity, and going to the voodoo priestess for help when problems arose. The word he wanted was mambo. Unfortunately, the word he used was mamba, and for three solid months he went along Highway One, using this word in his sermons.
"Stay away from the mamba," he warned them. "Mamba is of the devil. You cannot use the mamba without shipwrecking your faith and endangering the faith of others."
Mamba is peanut butter.
Still, the Spirit was moving. I am told that people were very open to this teaching, and sales of peanut butter plummeted wherever Dale went.
Copyright © 2004 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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Thursday, August 05, 2004
more on the sucking chest wound
We got a third-party update on Christian the other day. The good news: He's still attending the day care where the state Division of Youth and Family Services set him up after he returned to his parents. He's getting daily interaction with other children his age and the last I knew had a personal teacher to work with him on his psychocognitive development, where he was majorly delayed.
And he's talking! He's still behind a bit, as is to be expected, and apparently is not the most verbal person -- but he's talking in complete sentences and is able to communicate fairly effortlessly.
Thank God.
Chris is also living with his father, grandmother, aunt and two cousins. So he has something approximating family relationships. E definitely did a lot to prepare him for that.
Now the bad news: His mother is back in the state. She returned from Florida, where she had been working as a stripper, and apparently already has made a bid to get full custody of her children. That was denied, and she also gave up after her daughter had a fit during a visit and Judy had no idea how to handle it. But she still has access to the kids for visits, which can be a bad thing, given that she's the cause of the bulk of their problems.
And the really bad news is that Judy and her latest boyfriend have a child. This is her fourth that I know of. The first was put up for adoption, and Chris and Dominique were the next two.
The more things change ...
And he's talking! He's still behind a bit, as is to be expected, and apparently is not the most verbal person -- but he's talking in complete sentences and is able to communicate fairly effortlessly.
Thank God.
Chris is also living with his father, grandmother, aunt and two cousins. So he has something approximating family relationships. E definitely did a lot to prepare him for that.
Now the bad news: His mother is back in the state. She returned from Florida, where she had been working as a stripper, and apparently already has made a bid to get full custody of her children. That was denied, and she also gave up after her daughter had a fit during a visit and Judy had no idea how to handle it. But she still has access to the kids for visits, which can be a bad thing, given that she's the cause of the bulk of their problems.
And the really bad news is that Judy and her latest boyfriend have a child. This is her fourth that I know of. The first was put up for adoption, and Chris and Dominique were the next two.
The more things change ...
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
man, this job sucks
It just gets weirder and weirder here...
Where to start? About a month ago, a co-worker of mine named Vince was fired. Vince technically was mid-management. He was the arts and entertainment editor, but also had a lot of training responsibilities and did a lot of pinch hitting when needed. Why he was fired is irrelevant, but it caught no one by surprise, including him.
Several months ago, he had told our editor in chief, Tom, that when it came time for him to leave, one way or the other, he recommended that his post go either to me or to another editor.
Well, even though Tom knew that we both were interested in the job, he decided to hire a sports writer with no editing or A&E experience and made him the new A&E editor. That's pretty much how they work here; when someone is fired, they have the replacement hired two weeks before the firee discovers he is through. There is no in-house advertising of the position or anything.
Okay, that's annoying, but I can live with it. I think it's a piss-poor way to run a business, but it's not my business, and I'm tired of juggling editing and writing responsibilities anyway.
Last Thursday I came in to work and discovered that David Jay, the editor of our flagship paper, has been moved up to associate editor. (Vince's old title.) Jay has no writing responsibilities in his new post, will be in charge of backreading all newspaper copy, and is going to be the guru of pagination, layout and various other things. On top of that, his replacement is a 22-year-old college graduate whose only work experience is in a daycare and whose only newspaper experience was on the college newspaper. And she's editing our flagship?
I could kill.
No one -- not one person, except possibly Jablonski, knew about this change in the lineup. No one was given a chance to apply for the associate editor position, no one was given the chance to decide not to apply for it, no one was even given a chance to find out what the position would entail and whether they would be interested in it. What's worse, to create it, they apparently laid off two copy editors.
I could scream.
Tom knows I'm burned out on my current responsibilities. We've talked about it before, when he broke his promise that I was going to be reassigned to head up another office. I've mentioned before that I'd be interested in taking over the flagship paper -- and unlike Katie, I actually have eight years of professional experience in this business.
And -- this is going to sound all wrong, but I'm mad enough I don't care -- I'm a better editor and a better writer than Jay. He hasn't got a clue how to make a good layout, how to write a decent editorial, or even how to write a decent story. The previous copy editor told me she dreaded reading his papers, because he did virtually nothing with the news copy, leaving it entirely to edit and the stories for factual, grammatical and stylistic errors. Tom himself told me last year that he considers me the finest editor he has in this place. So why am I getting ignored for a position where I could conceivably help a number of other editors improve their work and thereby improve the quality of our final product? Why is responsibility for the flagship being given to a complete newcomer when there's another editor who knows the towns in covers inside and out?
Part of me is screaming that they're probably violating some sort of labor law in not even advertising these positions to staff first. It's certainly not taking the high road or trying to build employee morale or company loyalty.
I'm disgusted. I've picked up a client for the PR business and am on the verge of getting a few others, I think. Even if that doesn't work out immediately, I've also got resumes going all over the place for some other jobs.
I can't wait to shake the dust off my feet when I leave this place.
Where to start? About a month ago, a co-worker of mine named Vince was fired. Vince technically was mid-management. He was the arts and entertainment editor, but also had a lot of training responsibilities and did a lot of pinch hitting when needed. Why he was fired is irrelevant, but it caught no one by surprise, including him.
Several months ago, he had told our editor in chief, Tom, that when it came time for him to leave, one way or the other, he recommended that his post go either to me or to another editor.
Well, even though Tom knew that we both were interested in the job, he decided to hire a sports writer with no editing or A&E experience and made him the new A&E editor. That's pretty much how they work here; when someone is fired, they have the replacement hired two weeks before the firee discovers he is through. There is no in-house advertising of the position or anything.
Okay, that's annoying, but I can live with it. I think it's a piss-poor way to run a business, but it's not my business, and I'm tired of juggling editing and writing responsibilities anyway.
Last Thursday I came in to work and discovered that David Jay, the editor of our flagship paper, has been moved up to associate editor. (Vince's old title.) Jay has no writing responsibilities in his new post, will be in charge of backreading all newspaper copy, and is going to be the guru of pagination, layout and various other things. On top of that, his replacement is a 22-year-old college graduate whose only work experience is in a daycare and whose only newspaper experience was on the college newspaper. And she's editing our flagship?
I could kill.
No one -- not one person, except possibly Jablonski, knew about this change in the lineup. No one was given a chance to apply for the associate editor position, no one was given the chance to decide not to apply for it, no one was even given a chance to find out what the position would entail and whether they would be interested in it. What's worse, to create it, they apparently laid off two copy editors.
I could scream.
Tom knows I'm burned out on my current responsibilities. We've talked about it before, when he broke his promise that I was going to be reassigned to head up another office. I've mentioned before that I'd be interested in taking over the flagship paper -- and unlike Katie, I actually have eight years of professional experience in this business.
And -- this is going to sound all wrong, but I'm mad enough I don't care -- I'm a better editor and a better writer than Jay. He hasn't got a clue how to make a good layout, how to write a decent editorial, or even how to write a decent story. The previous copy editor told me she dreaded reading his papers, because he did virtually nothing with the news copy, leaving it entirely to edit and the stories for factual, grammatical and stylistic errors. Tom himself told me last year that he considers me the finest editor he has in this place. So why am I getting ignored for a position where I could conceivably help a number of other editors improve their work and thereby improve the quality of our final product? Why is responsibility for the flagship being given to a complete newcomer when there's another editor who knows the towns in covers inside and out?
Part of me is screaming that they're probably violating some sort of labor law in not even advertising these positions to staff first. It's certainly not taking the high road or trying to build employee morale or company loyalty.
I'm disgusted. I've picked up a client for the PR business and am on the verge of getting a few others, I think. Even if that doesn't work out immediately, I've also got resumes going all over the place for some other jobs.
I can't wait to shake the dust off my feet when I leave this place.
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