Wow. I'm doing my theology paper on the book of 1 John, and it has already, on my first night of checking it out, become absurdly complex and delightfully intricate. It reminds me of the snow dance in the Silver Chair. Current tally: eight snowballs connected, two in the face. Four repetitions of "Beloved?" What's with that?
However, there has been a lot of great dodging as well. Definitely chiastic (but confusingly so), light and life references to John, and lots of cool stuff. John is definitely my favorite author, and I cannot wait to have time to delve into the John and Revelation as two halves of the same book theory.
Blessings,
Jesse Broussard
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Selah
"Lacking a clear consensus from the scholars I have felt free to offer the less scholarly but more entertaining suggestion that Selah is a Philistine expletive that David learned during those hard years when he was banished from Saul's court and knocking around with ruffians and outlaws in the wilderness. He used it whenever he broke a string on his harp." Answering God, 148.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Amazing Tale of the Butterfly-Unicorn-Ballerina-Princess and the Giant Creeping Land Squid
For a tidbit of N. D. Wilson, click on my title.
N. D. Wilson
To read the great epic ballad (not really) of Knox and the Sheep, among other things, click on my title.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Food for Thought
While re-reading The Lord's Service by Jeff Meyers (which everyone that ever darkens the doors of a church should do), I encountered a thought in a dark corner of my mind. Since bringing it into the light, it has grown too large already to be put back, and threatens to write up a lease agreement for the upstairs bedroom.
Could communion be defended as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? All elements seem to be there, and it is there that we eat and drink of our "dying you shall die" type of death.
Anyone with thoughts, feel free to hurl them at me.
Could communion be defended as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? All elements seem to be there, and it is there that we eat and drink of our "dying you shall die" type of death.
Anyone with thoughts, feel free to hurl them at me.
A Bit Salty
Wow. I just read through a comment war on one of the articles at World Magazine, and feel compelled to ask: why is it that Christians are the most uncharitable people on the planet, but only towards each other? Why are Calvinists assured that God can change anything but an Arminian's mind, postmillenialists depressed, and paedobaptists bad parents? And when we get into arguments with those who will stand shoulder to shoulder with us before God? We are shrill self-righteous little twits, running in circles throwing things at each other like two irresponsible paedo's kids unsupervised in a nursery.
Now that the vent session is over, why are we so tempted toward the faults we should be the farthest from? "When confronted with a flood, we grab fire extinguishers" as Lewis said (but I'm too lazy to find out where or the exact quote). When God said to let our speech be seasoned with salt, we seem to forget that there was a first half to the verse, forgo the shaker and go for the ten-pound Costco bag.
Now that the vent session is over, why are we so tempted toward the faults we should be the farthest from? "When confronted with a flood, we grab fire extinguishers" as Lewis said (but I'm too lazy to find out where or the exact quote). When God said to let our speech be seasoned with salt, we seem to forget that there was a first half to the verse, forgo the shaker and go for the ten-pound Costco bag.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Damage so Far
I have had most of my finals, and am only waiting on my Latin oral and written. I did best in theology (no big surprise), with a second CL on my worksheet, and perhaps a CH to SCH on my oral, but of course I'm not sure. My Natural History was wretched, and I'm awaiting my course grade. Part of the problem was that it was very early in the week, and I had less time to prepare, but most of it was that I had no idea what was expected (which was my own fault), and prepared poorly. My History was on the low side of average, probably a CS-CH, depending upon the way the test was weighted (if at all) and mistakes that I'm not yet aware of (which are indubitably manifold).
I have my Latin oral tomorrow morning, and the written is Thursday afternoon. I don't expect to do very well on the oral, but I may end up surprising myself, and I expect to do decently on the written, with a lot of work ahead of me. Yet, in a time, two times and half a time, I will be on to something else. Probably more school, but that's okay: I enjoy school. I expect to spend ten very happy years getting my Bachelors, and may go for a Ph D, depending on whether I can still hear the lectures by then. No, I actually am having fun, but am very much looking forward to being home.
Blessings.
I have my Latin oral tomorrow morning, and the written is Thursday afternoon. I don't expect to do very well on the oral, but I may end up surprising myself, and I expect to do decently on the written, with a lot of work ahead of me. Yet, in a time, two times and half a time, I will be on to something else. Probably more school, but that's okay: I enjoy school. I expect to spend ten very happy years getting my Bachelors, and may go for a Ph D, depending on whether I can still hear the lectures by then. No, I actually am having fun, but am very much looking forward to being home.
Blessings.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Thanks a Lot, Digory. Jadis is Great.
Boy Howdy
Topic: Global Swarming
I put my truck in 4-wheel drive this morning to help me get to work . . . in March. Late last week, I was assuming that we were dealing with a spring snow, the kind of thing we have to put up with in Idaho from time to time. But no, this is the real deal, a winter storm that is, as I write, still coming down hard. Of course, I cannot let the moment pass without offering my tribute to the really smart people who believe that the threat of global warming is so real and so pressing that we have to slap all kinds of extra-cost burdens on industry in the middle of a hard recession in order to save us from the perils of having to take our coats off.
I know, I know, somebody is going to say the science is undisputed. And it is undisputed if anyone who disagrees with this naked statist power grab is, by definition, a crank. It is undisputed if you are allowed to exclude from the ranks of respectability everyone who disputes it. The way these global temperatures are measured, they stopped rising ten years ago, and are now in a marked decline. Even some of the fanboys of statist climate salvation are acknowledging this, and have taken to saying that when this current cooling trend ends, boy howdy, then all that pent-up global warming will take off with a vengeance. These people are genuinely religious, and they walk by faith, not by sight. Or, as is more likely, they put their play for power in motion and cannot stop the play until it is whistled dead. When it is whistled dead, it will be for a loss of about twenty yards.
Topic: Global Swarming
I put my truck in 4-wheel drive this morning to help me get to work . . . in March. Late last week, I was assuming that we were dealing with a spring snow, the kind of thing we have to put up with in Idaho from time to time. But no, this is the real deal, a winter storm that is, as I write, still coming down hard. Of course, I cannot let the moment pass without offering my tribute to the really smart people who believe that the threat of global warming is so real and so pressing that we have to slap all kinds of extra-cost burdens on industry in the middle of a hard recession in order to save us from the perils of having to take our coats off.
I know, I know, somebody is going to say the science is undisputed. And it is undisputed if anyone who disagrees with this naked statist power grab is, by definition, a crank. It is undisputed if you are allowed to exclude from the ranks of respectability everyone who disputes it. The way these global temperatures are measured, they stopped rising ten years ago, and are now in a marked decline. Even some of the fanboys of statist climate salvation are acknowledging this, and have taken to saying that when this current cooling trend ends, boy howdy, then all that pent-up global warming will take off with a vengeance. These people are genuinely religious, and they walk by faith, not by sight. Or, as is more likely, they put their play for power in motion and cannot stop the play until it is whistled dead. When it is whistled dead, it will be for a loss of about twenty yards.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
So Soon
I have finals this week (may God have mercy), and then I go home. I leave Friday morning, stay in Washougal with family, and get home Saturday afternoon/evening (to a wine and poetry night, perhaps?).
What this basically means: in six days, I see my family.
What this basically means: in six days, I see my family.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Theology Worksheet #2
3.03.09
Theology Worksheet #2
Second choice: John 9: 1-41
Worksheet #2: Structural Analysis in John’s gospel
In this worksheet, you will analyze the structure of a passage of John’s gospel. You need to perform the various operations that you performed on an OT book last term, to wit: 1) Determine or explain the boundaries of the text; 2) break down the text into its component sections; 3) explain the formal or narrative arrangement of the parts; and 4) explain the purpose or effect of the structure.
First off, thank you for letting us do John: he is my favorite Scriptural author, and my favorite Biblical character (though Phineas and Jehu are not too far behind).
John 9:1-41: I chose this section as nine is the world’s most interesting number, and this section is encapsulated within a really spiffy inclusio:
A: 9:1: Falsely declared sinful because of blindness,
A’: 9:41: Justly declared sinful because of sight.
A quick bit of background: chapters 1-12 of John contain what are commonly seen as his “seven signs,” seven great miracles that John gives (as proof of Christ’s divinity), and this is the sixth of these signs. Also, this is toward the end of John’s section on bread and light: John can be viewed as an entrance into the temple, so the first five chapters deal with water (the ceremonial washing: water into wine, woman at the well, born of water and blood, etc), the second five deal with bread and light (the showbread and Menorah: burning and shining lamp, the feeding of the five-thousand, bread of heaven, bread of life, I am the light of the world, giving light to the blind man), and so on.
There are references (which I will deal with in greater depth later) to creation (a new creation with clay), anointing (with clay, which is interesting in itself), baptism (washing in the pool), discipleship (the Pharisees’ interrogation and his response), and, very interestingly, an elusive Christ that brings to mind your comments in lecture regarding Him being the one “born of the Spirit,” of whom we cannot tell where He is from or where He is going. This theme in particular is capitalized upon in this chapter: “Where is he?” “I do not know.” “He is not from God;” “We do not know where he is from,” “You do not know where he is from,” etc. This cannot be accidental.
A quick throwaway: the clay theme may have something to do with this being the sixth of the seven signs: six is generally viewed as the number of man (made on the sixth day, six days he may work, slavery lasted six years for a Hebrew slave, six cities of refuge for the accidental slaying of a man, etc), and man is made from the dust of the ground. Personally, I would be hesitant to venture much further out on the skinny branches of two man-made hermeneutical tools, but it may bear more fruit upon later study. I found nothing all that apparent save a definite focus upon man’s relationship with man.
Also this section is chiastic: I have made it rougher than it has to be for space considerations (especially points E and E’, which could justifiably be E-R), but it is easily expanded once the basic outline is grasped. Since it is rough, there are a great number of points worth studying that may not even be mentioned, and I am open to many slight changes within this overall chiastic frame. All chapter references are chapter 9 and are omitted, and I have changed the phrasing to make the parallels more obvious.
• A: 1: Jesus and His disciples: he’s blind; is he a sinner? No.
o B: 4-5: Day and night, I am the light of the world…
• C: 6-12: sent, who is he? Receives sight.
• D: 13-16: brought to the Pharisees, not from God, can’t be a sinner.
o E: 17-21: Prophet, blind—sight, parents interrogated, born blind, he is of age, etc.
• F: 22: “they feared the Jews, for the Jews had agreed already that if anyone confessed that he was the Christ, he would be put out of the synagogue.”
o E’: 23-29: Disciples of Moses (prophet), blind—see, son interrogated, blind, he is of age, etc.
• D’: 30-34: cast out by the Pharisees, must be from God, God doesn’t hear sinners.
• C’: 35-38: cast out, who is he? You have seen Him.
o B’: 39-40: Seeing and blind, I am the judgment of the world…
• A’: 41: Jesus and the “disciples of Moses:” Are we sinners? You’ve sight; yes.
The overall theme is that of the blind, “sinless” false Israel accusing Christ, the absentee defendant, while the seeing, “sinful” true Israel acts as His advocate. The parents appear to be two cowardly witnesses that, nevertheless, validate the testimony of the true Israel, who is then cast out when he successfully defends the One that sent him out, and sends him out again.
The central point (F) accents an aspect of this trial: two mindsets of the Jewish world. First, there are the captive Jews that fear their captors rather than the Liberator, and out of fear of being cast out of Israel reject Israel for the “synagogue of Satan.” Second, there are their captors, who greatly fear the Liberator and decide to excommunicate anyone that accepts Him (a rather weak threat to anyone that had accepted him, but quite terrible to anyone that was on the fence).
Two verbs in this verse interest me, so far as time is concerned. The Greek συντίθεμαι (had agreed already) is in the pluperfect tense, which is quite rare, and is like a perfect past tense: the meaning is “had once and for all agreed,” and puts one in mind of a covenant. The verb ὁμολογέω(confessed) is in the aorist, and therefore pays no heed to time: past, present, future, it doesn’t matter: the aorist includes them all. The action of this sentence then feels along the lines of “the Jews had irrevocably agreed that if anyone ever confessed Jesus as the Christ, he would be excommunicated.” No big difference is impressed upon the sentence, save perhaps a bit more force.
Another interesting tidbit is how Jesus healed this man. The man was blind from birth, and had apparently done a good deal of work to find a cure (“Since the world began it has been unheard of that anyone opened the eyes of one who was born blind…”), and being blind from birth was apparently viewed in no favorable light (“Who sinned, this man or his parents…” and “You were steeped in sin in your mother’s womb…”). It is not too much of a stretch to say that this hopeless beggar didn’t suffer from an excess of popularity, and I don’t think I’d be wearing white socks with my exegetical suit were I to posit that he’d been spit on plenty of times. It is of course just like God to take shame and turn it into glory, into an anointing. This may be completely off base, and there is no Scriptural leg to stand on, but I like the interpretation, and will probably keep it around.
Back to solid ground: this is a recreation story, and that without question. Jesus molds clay, anoints a blind man with it, and has him baptized. He emerges from his baptism as a new man. There is division in the “opening” of the man’s eyes, and there is separation in his excommunication from the synagogue. What God had divided, He filled: in this case, with Himself (verse 37). His separation also speaks to John’s ever-present message of light and darkness, which is obviously a pervasive theme in this story.
There are two ways to interpret John’s light vs. dark message: either good verse evil or the New Covenant being rejected by the so-called adherents to the Old. Arguments are made for both, and I think that there are times when both are equally valid. However, his message in John appears to be the latter: “and the darkness comprehended it not…” “He was sent to bear witness to that light…” etc. If this is the case, and it seems to be, then this recreation is yet again a symbol of the new creation being rejected and cast out by the old: the created light (blind man) shines (speaks truth) into the darkness (the truly blind Pharisees), but the darkness comprehended it not, and men loved darkness rather than light.
The verb anoint is a very peculiar choice of word. The translation is good, but why did John use that word? Why is the blind man “anointed” with mud? And why are we told this twice? It is obviously important, but what is important about it?
Several explanations present themselves. First, this is the Sabbath, and John, intentionally or no, sanctifies Christ’s “work” on the Sabbath.
Second, the man was about to be brought before the synagogue, and he hadn’t given any thought to what he would say. So, the image is given that Paul later refers to.
But most likely it is because Jesus says that He is doing the work of His Father just before He anoints the man’s eyes. So this can easily be taken to represent his actions on a larger scale: “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me for He has anointed me…” Jesus was going around opening the eyes of the Spiritually blind, and especially in John’s eyes.
We have also seen that the work of the Spirit is portrayed differently in John than in the synoptic Gospels, and this is fitting with that theme. The anointing is what opens the man’s eyes; it is what prepares him to face the Pharisees alone, and it is what enabled him to recognize and worship Christ.
The theme of clay is also interesting, but as I have alluded to it several times already, I will only give it a brief overview here. I believe that it mostly refers to the creation theme: “He formed him out of the dust of the ground…” but it also references the curse. So, the curse is taken and placed upon the blind eyes of the man, and is done so as an anointing? Or the anointing is mixed with the curse? It is unclear, and I don’t think it matters much: the main point that can be drawn is the washing, the cleansing from the curse that is accomplished by baptism, and even this really is a bit of a stretch in my opinion.
One of the most interesting features of this chapter is the absence of Christ from it when He is so central to it. He appears at the beginning and at the end, but is nowhere to be found between his bookending cameos. He is the central figure: He is the one that is on trial (“Give glory to God we know this man is a sinner…”), and it would certainly have removed the pressure from the formerly blind man had He shown up. But He didn’t. He didn’t even wait to be thanked: the blind man first sees Him when Jesus seeks Him out.
First off, I’d just like to comment that this is about as flawless an analogy of conversion as can be made. Blind from birth, anointed and healed by the Spirit of a God we know of but don’t know, baptized into Him, violently and unpleasantly divorced from our idolatry, and then we begin to see Christ as the Son of God as He seeks us.
I think that Christ is absent from the story for one main reason (though I am sure there are others): so we can get a picture of what it is like to serve an absent Master. We are the people that put up that obscene footprints poem on our walls and think nice thoughts about gentle Jesus. We have no concept of the God that spoke to Jeremiah, asking him how he was going to manage to keep up with horses if men wore him out. We have some pagan notion in our minds that God is primarily concerned with out comfort and happiness, when we have nothing of that in Scripture or in life. This is the God that we serve: He does not come when called; He is not a tame Lion. We are to serve Him faithfully anyway.
Theology Worksheet #2
Second choice: John 9: 1-41
Worksheet #2: Structural Analysis in John’s gospel
In this worksheet, you will analyze the structure of a passage of John’s gospel. You need to perform the various operations that you performed on an OT book last term, to wit: 1) Determine or explain the boundaries of the text; 2) break down the text into its component sections; 3) explain the formal or narrative arrangement of the parts; and 4) explain the purpose or effect of the structure.
First off, thank you for letting us do John: he is my favorite Scriptural author, and my favorite Biblical character (though Phineas and Jehu are not too far behind).
John 9:1-41: I chose this section as nine is the world’s most interesting number, and this section is encapsulated within a really spiffy inclusio:
A: 9:1: Falsely declared sinful because of blindness,
A’: 9:41: Justly declared sinful because of sight.
A quick bit of background: chapters 1-12 of John contain what are commonly seen as his “seven signs,” seven great miracles that John gives (as proof of Christ’s divinity), and this is the sixth of these signs. Also, this is toward the end of John’s section on bread and light: John can be viewed as an entrance into the temple, so the first five chapters deal with water (the ceremonial washing: water into wine, woman at the well, born of water and blood, etc), the second five deal with bread and light (the showbread and Menorah: burning and shining lamp, the feeding of the five-thousand, bread of heaven, bread of life, I am the light of the world, giving light to the blind man), and so on.
There are references (which I will deal with in greater depth later) to creation (a new creation with clay), anointing (with clay, which is interesting in itself), baptism (washing in the pool), discipleship (the Pharisees’ interrogation and his response), and, very interestingly, an elusive Christ that brings to mind your comments in lecture regarding Him being the one “born of the Spirit,” of whom we cannot tell where He is from or where He is going. This theme in particular is capitalized upon in this chapter: “Where is he?” “I do not know.” “He is not from God;” “We do not know where he is from,” “You do not know where he is from,” etc. This cannot be accidental.
A quick throwaway: the clay theme may have something to do with this being the sixth of the seven signs: six is generally viewed as the number of man (made on the sixth day, six days he may work, slavery lasted six years for a Hebrew slave, six cities of refuge for the accidental slaying of a man, etc), and man is made from the dust of the ground. Personally, I would be hesitant to venture much further out on the skinny branches of two man-made hermeneutical tools, but it may bear more fruit upon later study. I found nothing all that apparent save a definite focus upon man’s relationship with man.
Also this section is chiastic: I have made it rougher than it has to be for space considerations (especially points E and E’, which could justifiably be E-R), but it is easily expanded once the basic outline is grasped. Since it is rough, there are a great number of points worth studying that may not even be mentioned, and I am open to many slight changes within this overall chiastic frame. All chapter references are chapter 9 and are omitted, and I have changed the phrasing to make the parallels more obvious.
• A: 1: Jesus and His disciples: he’s blind; is he a sinner? No.
o B: 4-5: Day and night, I am the light of the world…
• C: 6-12: sent, who is he? Receives sight.
• D: 13-16: brought to the Pharisees, not from God, can’t be a sinner.
o E: 17-21: Prophet, blind—sight, parents interrogated, born blind, he is of age, etc.
• F: 22: “they feared the Jews, for the Jews had agreed already that if anyone confessed that he was the Christ, he would be put out of the synagogue.”
o E’: 23-29: Disciples of Moses (prophet), blind—see, son interrogated, blind, he is of age, etc.
• D’: 30-34: cast out by the Pharisees, must be from God, God doesn’t hear sinners.
• C’: 35-38: cast out, who is he? You have seen Him.
o B’: 39-40: Seeing and blind, I am the judgment of the world…
• A’: 41: Jesus and the “disciples of Moses:” Are we sinners? You’ve sight; yes.
The overall theme is that of the blind, “sinless” false Israel accusing Christ, the absentee defendant, while the seeing, “sinful” true Israel acts as His advocate. The parents appear to be two cowardly witnesses that, nevertheless, validate the testimony of the true Israel, who is then cast out when he successfully defends the One that sent him out, and sends him out again.
The central point (F) accents an aspect of this trial: two mindsets of the Jewish world. First, there are the captive Jews that fear their captors rather than the Liberator, and out of fear of being cast out of Israel reject Israel for the “synagogue of Satan.” Second, there are their captors, who greatly fear the Liberator and decide to excommunicate anyone that accepts Him (a rather weak threat to anyone that had accepted him, but quite terrible to anyone that was on the fence).
Two verbs in this verse interest me, so far as time is concerned. The Greek συντίθεμαι (had agreed already) is in the pluperfect tense, which is quite rare, and is like a perfect past tense: the meaning is “had once and for all agreed,” and puts one in mind of a covenant. The verb ὁμολογέω(confessed) is in the aorist, and therefore pays no heed to time: past, present, future, it doesn’t matter: the aorist includes them all. The action of this sentence then feels along the lines of “the Jews had irrevocably agreed that if anyone ever confessed Jesus as the Christ, he would be excommunicated.” No big difference is impressed upon the sentence, save perhaps a bit more force.
Another interesting tidbit is how Jesus healed this man. The man was blind from birth, and had apparently done a good deal of work to find a cure (“Since the world began it has been unheard of that anyone opened the eyes of one who was born blind…”), and being blind from birth was apparently viewed in no favorable light (“Who sinned, this man or his parents…” and “You were steeped in sin in your mother’s womb…”). It is not too much of a stretch to say that this hopeless beggar didn’t suffer from an excess of popularity, and I don’t think I’d be wearing white socks with my exegetical suit were I to posit that he’d been spit on plenty of times. It is of course just like God to take shame and turn it into glory, into an anointing. This may be completely off base, and there is no Scriptural leg to stand on, but I like the interpretation, and will probably keep it around.
Back to solid ground: this is a recreation story, and that without question. Jesus molds clay, anoints a blind man with it, and has him baptized. He emerges from his baptism as a new man. There is division in the “opening” of the man’s eyes, and there is separation in his excommunication from the synagogue. What God had divided, He filled: in this case, with Himself (verse 37). His separation also speaks to John’s ever-present message of light and darkness, which is obviously a pervasive theme in this story.
There are two ways to interpret John’s light vs. dark message: either good verse evil or the New Covenant being rejected by the so-called adherents to the Old. Arguments are made for both, and I think that there are times when both are equally valid. However, his message in John appears to be the latter: “and the darkness comprehended it not…” “He was sent to bear witness to that light…” etc. If this is the case, and it seems to be, then this recreation is yet again a symbol of the new creation being rejected and cast out by the old: the created light (blind man) shines (speaks truth) into the darkness (the truly blind Pharisees), but the darkness comprehended it not, and men loved darkness rather than light.
The verb anoint is a very peculiar choice of word. The translation is good, but why did John use that word? Why is the blind man “anointed” with mud? And why are we told this twice? It is obviously important, but what is important about it?
Several explanations present themselves. First, this is the Sabbath, and John, intentionally or no, sanctifies Christ’s “work” on the Sabbath.
Second, the man was about to be brought before the synagogue, and he hadn’t given any thought to what he would say. So, the image is given that Paul later refers to.
But most likely it is because Jesus says that He is doing the work of His Father just before He anoints the man’s eyes. So this can easily be taken to represent his actions on a larger scale: “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me for He has anointed me…” Jesus was going around opening the eyes of the Spiritually blind, and especially in John’s eyes.
We have also seen that the work of the Spirit is portrayed differently in John than in the synoptic Gospels, and this is fitting with that theme. The anointing is what opens the man’s eyes; it is what prepares him to face the Pharisees alone, and it is what enabled him to recognize and worship Christ.
The theme of clay is also interesting, but as I have alluded to it several times already, I will only give it a brief overview here. I believe that it mostly refers to the creation theme: “He formed him out of the dust of the ground…” but it also references the curse. So, the curse is taken and placed upon the blind eyes of the man, and is done so as an anointing? Or the anointing is mixed with the curse? It is unclear, and I don’t think it matters much: the main point that can be drawn is the washing, the cleansing from the curse that is accomplished by baptism, and even this really is a bit of a stretch in my opinion.
One of the most interesting features of this chapter is the absence of Christ from it when He is so central to it. He appears at the beginning and at the end, but is nowhere to be found between his bookending cameos. He is the central figure: He is the one that is on trial (“Give glory to God we know this man is a sinner…”), and it would certainly have removed the pressure from the formerly blind man had He shown up. But He didn’t. He didn’t even wait to be thanked: the blind man first sees Him when Jesus seeks Him out.
First off, I’d just like to comment that this is about as flawless an analogy of conversion as can be made. Blind from birth, anointed and healed by the Spirit of a God we know of but don’t know, baptized into Him, violently and unpleasantly divorced from our idolatry, and then we begin to see Christ as the Son of God as He seeks us.
I think that Christ is absent from the story for one main reason (though I am sure there are others): so we can get a picture of what it is like to serve an absent Master. We are the people that put up that obscene footprints poem on our walls and think nice thoughts about gentle Jesus. We have no concept of the God that spoke to Jeremiah, asking him how he was going to manage to keep up with horses if men wore him out. We have some pagan notion in our minds that God is primarily concerned with out comfort and happiness, when we have nothing of that in Scripture or in life. This is the God that we serve: He does not come when called; He is not a tame Lion. We are to serve Him faithfully anyway.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Someone's in a Spot of Trouble
Today our constant freshman/faculty vs. upperclassmen competition reveals itself in the basketball court. So, someone (and I honestly have no idea who) affixed the name of our illustrious president to the following email. Repercussions will be interesting.
Students and Faculty:
Over the last week or two several issues have been brought to my attention regarding the upcoming basketball exhibition. Several students have voiced various concerns, and I would like to specifically address these questions in the context of the robust paideia and ultimate educational vision of New Saint Andrews College.
Many of you are probably aware of the first issue that I need to address. Nate Douglas has requested that the traditional ‘dark and white’ shirts for the basketball game be replaced with a new paradigm more in line with NSA’s values. Mr. Douglas asked that ‘shirts and skins’ be the new distinguishing factor. After discussion with interested parents and NSA’s BOD (board of directors), I decided to partially grant his request, and allow the upperclassmen to partially unclothe themselves for the game only. Standard dress code is still required for classes and game attendees (c.f. Student Handbook pgs. 207-449, which does not contain any specific rules).
This satisfied Mr. Douglas. However, more concerns have arisen since my initial decision. Micah Shryer, who recently acquired a weight bench via the church email, has complained about the discrimination against the lowerclassmen, and has asked for the new dress standards to be applied both ways. Although he initially did not plan to play in the game, he has since asked to join, giving as his reason, and I quote, “I may not be good at basketball, but I am good at shirts and skins.” Numerous freshmen have echoed his concerns.
The final decision I have reached is that there may be 5 total shirtless players on the court at one time, for both teams. Also, only certain players will be given this privilege. If you have a vested interest in any specific player, please email me your vote.
Concerns have also been raised by anxious female patrons of the College. Without detailing the reasons for their anxiety, the following list of Ineligible “Skins” Players has been compiled:
1. Jason Helsel ("long" shorts, please--thigh exposure is still prohibited)
2. Brian Kohl (full-length pants required in this instance)
3. Daniel Alders.
4. Mr. Schwandt and Mr. Griffith (the college does not support Ancient Olympic-style costume)
Finally, after certain problems with last year’s half time entertainment, this year the faculty have decided to sponsor a speed reading competition--Ms.Gwen Burrow versus Ben Saunders. As always, comprehension will not be a factor. The prestigious “semper current, numquam comprehendunt” award will be given to the winner.
Go Paideia!!
Sincerely,
President Dr. Roy Atwood
Students and Faculty:
Over the last week or two several issues have been brought to my attention regarding the upcoming basketball exhibition. Several students have voiced various concerns, and I would like to specifically address these questions in the context of the robust paideia and ultimate educational vision of New Saint Andrews College.
Many of you are probably aware of the first issue that I need to address. Nate Douglas has requested that the traditional ‘dark and white’ shirts for the basketball game be replaced with a new paradigm more in line with NSA’s values. Mr. Douglas asked that ‘shirts and skins’ be the new distinguishing factor. After discussion with interested parents and NSA’s BOD (board of directors), I decided to partially grant his request, and allow the upperclassmen to partially unclothe themselves for the game only. Standard dress code is still required for classes and game attendees (c.f. Student Handbook pgs. 207-449, which does not contain any specific rules).
This satisfied Mr. Douglas. However, more concerns have arisen since my initial decision. Micah Shryer, who recently acquired a weight bench via the church email, has complained about the discrimination against the lowerclassmen, and has asked for the new dress standards to be applied both ways. Although he initially did not plan to play in the game, he has since asked to join, giving as his reason, and I quote, “I may not be good at basketball, but I am good at shirts and skins.” Numerous freshmen have echoed his concerns.
The final decision I have reached is that there may be 5 total shirtless players on the court at one time, for both teams. Also, only certain players will be given this privilege. If you have a vested interest in any specific player, please email me your vote.
Concerns have also been raised by anxious female patrons of the College. Without detailing the reasons for their anxiety, the following list of Ineligible “Skins” Players has been compiled:
1. Jason Helsel ("long" shorts, please--thigh exposure is still prohibited)
2. Brian Kohl (full-length pants required in this instance)
3. Daniel Alders.
4. Mr. Schwandt and Mr. Griffith (the college does not support Ancient Olympic-style costume)
Finally, after certain problems with last year’s half time entertainment, this year the faculty have decided to sponsor a speed reading competition--Ms.Gwen Burrow versus Ben Saunders. As always, comprehension will not be a factor. The prestigious “semper current, numquam comprehendunt” award will be given to the winner.
Go Paideia!!
Sincerely,
President Dr. Roy Atwood
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Dandelion Fire Review
I just finished it. I cannot presume to praise this book. I will read it another hundred times in my life, and my sons will know Hylfing second only to Middle Earth and Narnia. Magnificent.
Advice: refresh yourself on the last few chapters of 100 Cupboards before plunging in, and when plunging, pay attention. There are things I will be pulling out of this book for years: the christening? Nearly unparalleled. N. D. Wilson refers to Tolkein as incomparable, and I agree. But the day may well come when Nate is second only to Lewis in those that have aspired to create worlds that may approach Middle Earth.
Advice: refresh yourself on the last few chapters of 100 Cupboards before plunging in, and when plunging, pay attention. There are things I will be pulling out of this book for years: the christening? Nearly unparalleled. N. D. Wilson refers to Tolkein as incomparable, and I agree. But the day may well come when Nate is second only to Lewis in those that have aspired to create worlds that may approach Middle Earth.
Free Credenda
Yes, the caterpillar no longer charges. Credenda is now being sent out free of charge (rather irresponsibly) to anyone that asks. So, here is a snippet from N. D. Wilson in the latest issue, which is on why Shakespeare isn't Shakespeare.
Blessings.
Breaking Teeth
N.D. Wilson
I see my grandfather walking between shoveled mounds of snow, moving slowly beneath the load of life. He is a block away from where I stand at an office window, and still I can see his lips moving, unable to swallow back the hymns and prayers within him. This is my ancestor, father to my father, an old jug, cracked and spilling warmth along his path.
Wipe two decades off my age. Put me in pajamas and place me at another window, a window in my grandparents’ aging, sagging, cracking, yellow house. It is New Year’s Eve, my parents’ anniversary. Outside the world is cold, and the night has most likely passed its middle, easing into the first dark moments of a young year. But in the winter, midnight darkness takes a different flavor. Deep, white, shimmering swarms of crystals are mounded on the hills and piled perfectly on every tree branch. I stand, shivering, looking out the window at a pearl-world beaming beneath the face of a moon as bright as it is silent. A forest of thick icicles stretches down past the side windows, bending and muddying the moonlight.
My grandparents are long asleep, but my two sisters watch me, bundled in their sleeping bags beside popping embers in the living room fireplace, protected from the sparks by a tired, wire screen.
My grandfather is like his house. Once strong and young, now his beams and timbers sag beneath the weight of long use, heavier even than the piles of snow on his roof and the fanged ice stretching down from the gutters. The Nebraska farm boy rowed for Navy. He served well in Korea. He turned a sharp mind and a bulldog jaw to a lifetime of chasing souls. Though many of his victims now carry on his work, he will not stop until his roof collapses beneath the winter.
At the window, back in my youth, I shiver again. My skin rises up in mountain ranges, but I savor the cold. This cold, this bite, and the draft I can feel ghosting through the old glass panes are all preparing me for the beautiful sleeve of warmth that is my sleeping bag. The fire pops, tempting me, but still I stand, staring at the creeping cold, marveling at the icicles. In this house, they are the winter’s front lines—a Berlin Wall raised up (or down) between hibernating life and the killing cold. This house is like its occupants. It has never held its heat selfishly. Heat is its gift to the world, and the icicles form in retaliation. Yearly, on this one winter night, when our parents leave, my grandfather stokes a fire, blocks it with a screen and throws our bags on the floor beside it. Sometimes he tips the couches onto their faces and shoves them together as a fort. Always, we are allowed to burn inappropriate things in the fire—trash mostly—and the strange dancing colors entertain while we lie on the floor, whispering.
The moon peers through tree branches, and the knobbed icicleshafts snare its light. These are icicles that threaten to reach the ground, winter fangs gnawing at the house, straining the eaves. I move to the door and slip thin feet into oversized boots. I will not need a coat. I am cold already. My older sister sits up. The door opens and the winter lunges in, snapping cold at my shins and arms and face, rolling invisibly across the floor to the sleeping bags. I am outside, the door is closed, and my skin is the color of moonlight. I cannot shiver. My joints are hardening. Lunging off the sidewalk, I hurry toward the corner of the house, toward the greatest of the ice teeth. Snow avalanches into my boots. Needles of air, thorns of cold dig into me as I grab at the biggest icicle. A third comes away in my hands. The rest drops to the ice carnage in the drift below. Picking up a chunk, I hurl it at the remaining row of gaping teeth. A jaw breaks. Fangs tumble. Turning, quaking, I run back to the house, back to the heat. Flippancy toward winter, petty sneers and disrespect for the cold were important for us in those days. Cold could not be our master.
My children have a name for my Grandmother. She is Chi-Chi-Pa. They named her for the Japanese song she sings, a relic of her missionary days, a time when she could walk without struggling, and pain was not such a part of her existence. She smiles and laughs when my children steal her walker, when Spring borrows a prop from Winter. As far back as I have memory, she has had her own funeral hymns chosen. She has love and warmth and joy, but she can’t help but anticipate the end. She is eager for the ice to fall away from her joints, for her eyes to burn bright. She has labored long. She has sons and a daughter who love and honor her. She has seen the rich harvest of fifteen grandchildren, and already thirteen great-grandchildren. She is happy, but she is eager.
When the final collapse comes, when the ice triumphs, she at least will have no truck with grief. Let the Winter come. It is the only path to Spring. The house is battered with cold, but inside there is a warmth that cannot and will not die. Both of my sisters are up, talking, whispering to me and laughing quietly as I shut the door and kick off my boots, as the icicle shard drips in my hands. Inset into the old fireplace, there is a strange little stove with open iron doors and a smooth iron cap. The dripping icicle goes onto the cap, and we three huddle to watch. The winter fang spins and sizzles and twists in pain while it shrinks, leaving a dark, fast-vanishing trail. We watch until not a trace remains, until the winter’s bite has taken invisibly to the air. Then, triumphant, we shovel ourselves back into bags and stare at the fire, sure that we will not sleep before the embers do, unafraid of the winter, lulled into comfort by the warmth, lulled into sleep by its whispers.
Blessings.
Breaking Teeth
N.D. Wilson
I see my grandfather walking between shoveled mounds of snow, moving slowly beneath the load of life. He is a block away from where I stand at an office window, and still I can see his lips moving, unable to swallow back the hymns and prayers within him. This is my ancestor, father to my father, an old jug, cracked and spilling warmth along his path.
Wipe two decades off my age. Put me in pajamas and place me at another window, a window in my grandparents’ aging, sagging, cracking, yellow house. It is New Year’s Eve, my parents’ anniversary. Outside the world is cold, and the night has most likely passed its middle, easing into the first dark moments of a young year. But in the winter, midnight darkness takes a different flavor. Deep, white, shimmering swarms of crystals are mounded on the hills and piled perfectly on every tree branch. I stand, shivering, looking out the window at a pearl-world beaming beneath the face of a moon as bright as it is silent. A forest of thick icicles stretches down past the side windows, bending and muddying the moonlight.
My grandparents are long asleep, but my two sisters watch me, bundled in their sleeping bags beside popping embers in the living room fireplace, protected from the sparks by a tired, wire screen.
My grandfather is like his house. Once strong and young, now his beams and timbers sag beneath the weight of long use, heavier even than the piles of snow on his roof and the fanged ice stretching down from the gutters. The Nebraska farm boy rowed for Navy. He served well in Korea. He turned a sharp mind and a bulldog jaw to a lifetime of chasing souls. Though many of his victims now carry on his work, he will not stop until his roof collapses beneath the winter.
At the window, back in my youth, I shiver again. My skin rises up in mountain ranges, but I savor the cold. This cold, this bite, and the draft I can feel ghosting through the old glass panes are all preparing me for the beautiful sleeve of warmth that is my sleeping bag. The fire pops, tempting me, but still I stand, staring at the creeping cold, marveling at the icicles. In this house, they are the winter’s front lines—a Berlin Wall raised up (or down) between hibernating life and the killing cold. This house is like its occupants. It has never held its heat selfishly. Heat is its gift to the world, and the icicles form in retaliation. Yearly, on this one winter night, when our parents leave, my grandfather stokes a fire, blocks it with a screen and throws our bags on the floor beside it. Sometimes he tips the couches onto their faces and shoves them together as a fort. Always, we are allowed to burn inappropriate things in the fire—trash mostly—and the strange dancing colors entertain while we lie on the floor, whispering.
The moon peers through tree branches, and the knobbed icicleshafts snare its light. These are icicles that threaten to reach the ground, winter fangs gnawing at the house, straining the eaves. I move to the door and slip thin feet into oversized boots. I will not need a coat. I am cold already. My older sister sits up. The door opens and the winter lunges in, snapping cold at my shins and arms and face, rolling invisibly across the floor to the sleeping bags. I am outside, the door is closed, and my skin is the color of moonlight. I cannot shiver. My joints are hardening. Lunging off the sidewalk, I hurry toward the corner of the house, toward the greatest of the ice teeth. Snow avalanches into my boots. Needles of air, thorns of cold dig into me as I grab at the biggest icicle. A third comes away in my hands. The rest drops to the ice carnage in the drift below. Picking up a chunk, I hurl it at the remaining row of gaping teeth. A jaw breaks. Fangs tumble. Turning, quaking, I run back to the house, back to the heat. Flippancy toward winter, petty sneers and disrespect for the cold were important for us in those days. Cold could not be our master.
My children have a name for my Grandmother. She is Chi-Chi-Pa. They named her for the Japanese song she sings, a relic of her missionary days, a time when she could walk without struggling, and pain was not such a part of her existence. She smiles and laughs when my children steal her walker, when Spring borrows a prop from Winter. As far back as I have memory, she has had her own funeral hymns chosen. She has love and warmth and joy, but she can’t help but anticipate the end. She is eager for the ice to fall away from her joints, for her eyes to burn bright. She has labored long. She has sons and a daughter who love and honor her. She has seen the rich harvest of fifteen grandchildren, and already thirteen great-grandchildren. She is happy, but she is eager.
When the final collapse comes, when the ice triumphs, she at least will have no truck with grief. Let the Winter come. It is the only path to Spring. The house is battered with cold, but inside there is a warmth that cannot and will not die. Both of my sisters are up, talking, whispering to me and laughing quietly as I shut the door and kick off my boots, as the icicle shard drips in my hands. Inset into the old fireplace, there is a strange little stove with open iron doors and a smooth iron cap. The dripping icicle goes onto the cap, and we three huddle to watch. The winter fang spins and sizzles and twists in pain while it shrinks, leaving a dark, fast-vanishing trail. We watch until not a trace remains, until the winter’s bite has taken invisibly to the air. Then, triumphant, we shovel ourselves back into bags and stare at the fire, sure that we will not sleep before the embers do, unafraid of the winter, lulled into comfort by the warmth, lulled into sleep by its whispers.
One for Brooke
The sea cucumber, when harassed, will turn away from its inimicus, blast its intestines out of it's nether regions to entangle or distract aforementioned unfriendly, and will then proceed to grow them back at its leisure.
Should Have Known
I'm still catching up on all my reading, and am on schedule. I'm also on page 226 of Dandelion Fire. As it's a zero sum game, I'm not sleeping much. The book is dizzying.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Dandelion Fire
It is less than ten minutes till Dandelion Fire is released, and I pick up my pre-ordered copies tomorrow. Yet, I won't be able to read the book for about two or three weeks. It will be the forbidden fruit, sitting on my shelf, calling my name in the night. I will wake up standing in the living room in my boxers, removing a copy from its dust jacket. I will dream about Henry, and hold long debates over who his father actually is. I will put all Harry Potter fans to shame, as the object of my obsession will have a third dimension to his character. Now I'm really starting to wonder if I'll be able to wait.
On the other hand, I have no idea how long before the Chestnut King comes out (which happens to be finished, and sitting less than three miles from my house, and less than two from my school... Juvenile Hall isn't that bad, is it?), and the sooner I finish Dandelion Fire, the longer I have to wait for that. C'est la vie.
Anyway, should you be from Humboldt, and want a signed 1st edition, leave me a comment and I'll get one for you. It goes without saying that the Moody's and Ashbach's have one on the way.
Blessings,
Jesse Broussard
On the other hand, I have no idea how long before the Chestnut King comes out (which happens to be finished, and sitting less than three miles from my house, and less than two from my school... Juvenile Hall isn't that bad, is it?), and the sooner I finish Dandelion Fire, the longer I have to wait for that. C'est la vie.
Anyway, should you be from Humboldt, and want a signed 1st edition, leave me a comment and I'll get one for you. It goes without saying that the Moody's and Ashbach's have one on the way.
Blessings,
Jesse Broussard
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