tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43437711721658767052024-03-05T19:51:18.253+11:00Hwaet!Random thoughts and musings from a young Catholic Evangelical. Mostly on religion and global politics and culture, with occasional forays into literature and the existential plight of my self and other selves in the modern world.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-80583434522891466892012-02-07T11:49:00.003+11:002012-02-07T12:21:38.435+11:00A Year of Living BloglesslyHello?...<br /><br />Hello?...<br /><br />Is anyone still here?<br /><br />(taps microphone)<br /><br />Yes, well, in spite of our best intentions, things do not always go as we plan. I had fully intended to continue blogging about the endlessly fascinating time I've been having living in China the past year. However, it turns out that, of the various websites that the Chinese government blocks, Blogger is one of them.<br /><br />For much of the year, I took this as a divine hint. A providential nudge. Loose lips sink ships, after all, and <em>a fortiori</em> careers. I can endure living bloglessly for a year, I thought. But two things have now happened. My contract at the university where I've been teaching the past year has been renewed for another 12 months, with additional renewals after that a viable possibility (moreover, the current state of the industry in Sydney doesn't give much incentive for coming back anytime soon). So it looks like I might be living in China for the foreseeable future. Also, now that it's the holidays and I've had a couple of weeks back home before returning to China for the new semester, a number of people have prevailed upon me to take up blogging again, at least in some capacity. Finally, the itch to write will not endure suppression for another 12 months.<br /><br />.....three things. Three things have happened.<br /><br />Accordingly, blogging <em>will</em> transpire this year. By which I mean I will blog. Not being able to access Blogger, I have set up a new blog with Wordpress (which, mysteriously, is not blocked by the Chinese government- maybe Blogger has a higher percentage of political blogs or something). The address is <a href="http://www.glennabolas.wordpress.com/">www.glennabolas.wordpress.com</a>. Necessarily, the new blog will have to be rather different from this one. Obviously I can't talk quite as much about religion, or at least not as freely, and the same goes for politics (and, I suppose, history to an extent). I will try to compensate with cultural stuff and interesting expat observations. I conceive of it as also being a vehicle for those of my students who are interested to practice their English reading and for me to practice a bit of Chinese writing as well. So something for everyone.<br /><br />So to all of my readers who remain (both of you), migrate along with me; the best is yet to be.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-45543235302201995782011-01-21T19:50:00.008+11:002011-01-22T08:41:09.756+11:00A Change of SceneryI am not in the habit of posting about personal matters, but this one is of sufficient moment to warrant a post, I think.<br /><br />As readers of this blog would be aware, I have planned for a while to spend a couple of weeks in China. Some of my thinking and reading (and, consequently, blogging) has reflected this. In fact I am to leave this coming Monday. But there has been something of a change of plans.<br /><br />Suffice to say, without going into unnecessary details, instead of a couple of weeks it now looks like I am going to be in China for a year, and possibly longer. Due to various market forces and governmental immigration policies, my present job's days have become numbered. I have (albeit with some reluctance) therefore decided to abandon ship and leap across to a more seaworthy vessel. From February 21, then, I shall be an employee of the Hubei University of Chinese Medicine (湖北中医药大学) in Wuhan. There I shall teach English, as I have been doing hitherto, but in a decidedly different environment.<br /><br />Naturally, I will continue to blog, and there will be no end of interesting details and incidents to report. But I shall also have to be careful, especially when it comes to religious matters, and most especially Chinese religious matters. There are no spiders watching over the web here in Australia, but that is not the case yonder. So expect at least some level of self-censorship in future, at least for the time being.<br /><br />I humbly petition all of you who read this blog to keep me in your prayers in the days to come.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-15494255348791532072011-01-18T15:06:00.003+11:002011-01-18T15:33:57.122+11:00"I Have a Work to Do in England."Much of the time, the Holy Spirit is subtle, even too subtle to notice. Occasionally, amazing and unprecedented things happen, but even when there are deafening fanfares, they tend to take place on hills for the benefit of shepherds rather than from the balconies of ivory towers or in city squares. But if one is paying attention, and happens to be in the right place at the right point in history, one can be given a glimpse of the Hand of God at work.<br /><br />On that note, exciting things are afoot in England. The Ordinariate is up and running, and from this mustard seed, I hope and pray along with many others, great things will come. This Sunday just past, one of the newly ordained former Anglican bishops, Fr Andrew Burnham, presided over Mass for the first time at the Oxford Oratory. Fr Aidan Nichols preached, and <a href="http://ordinariateportal.wordpress.com/2011/01/17/fr-aidan-nichols-op-homily/">his sermon</a> expresses beautifully and profoundly the importance and significance of the Ordinariate. It may yet be that England will not ultimately be lost to the Faith. If it is not, the Ordinariate will have its part to play in that, in the revivifying of English Christianity (by which I mean both Christianity in England and a uniquely English form of Christianity) and the redemption of what is left of English culture. Big dreams, small mustard seed. But that is how God likes to work. And if He doesn't do exactly that, He will do something better.<br /><br />'I have a work to do in England.' Quite so.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-30892248085568918042011-01-11T14:44:00.005+11:002011-01-11T14:55:53.145+11:0011/1/11Humans are strange animals who sometimes find patterns in numbers. As such, I happened to notice that today's date is 11/1/11.<br /><br />Was there today any great world-shattering event to justify this strange yet undeniably significant convergence? Not that I know of.<br /><br />However, it does remind me of a joke I was once told many years ago by a middle-aged chap whom I met and had dinner with at his home in the French countryside near La Rochelle: "Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé en 1111?" "L'invasion des Huns."<br /><br />He that hath ears to hear (and knows French), let him hear.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-44840044508374862242011-01-08T08:19:00.012+11:002011-01-15T09:49:40.918+11:00Matteo Ricci - A Different Kind of Missionary<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m5K9Afqx_bV9hHJwAdeU-MNw1mI86sjV7HtLu3lHI02Mdp2zo4Td3BW5JP6c4opn4kLsZk3s0i8oIJ7n5IyeKM35Z97qI3N_-R_rv1YSuHEfTw2Tv5LjmOlCFesp78tpIthy-0NaUGya/s1600/xu-ricci.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 174px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559599765786073954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m5K9Afqx_bV9hHJwAdeU-MNw1mI86sjV7HtLu3lHI02Mdp2zo4Td3BW5JP6c4opn4kLsZk3s0i8oIJ7n5IyeKM35Z97qI3N_-R_rv1YSuHEfTw2Tv5LjmOlCFesp78tpIthy-0NaUGya/s400/xu-ricci.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div>I have recently finished reading <a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Matteo-Ricci-sage-venu-lOccident/dp/2226207430/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1294437821&sr=8-2">"Matteo Ricci- Le Sage Venu de L'Occident"</a> by Vincent Cronin (a title that would sound even better in English- 'Wiseman from the West'!), which is, I suppose, appropriate given that I will be visiting China a fortnight from now. Its subject is the first Western Christian missionary to China. Not quite the first Christian missionary, but he might as well have been- the Nestorians briefly set up shop there at one point but had died out centuries before. </div><div></div><div>The book has given me a lot of food for thought.</div><br /><div></div><div>The (very nearly successful) experiment that Ricci set out upon in his missionary work was governed by this question: Can a people be Christianised without being Westernised? Can the leaven of the Gospel be planted in an alien culture and grow without bringing with it the excrescences of the culture planting it? If one thinks about it, such a thing has almost never happened in Christian history. Certainly, as time goes on, cultures and peoples that convert to Christianity take on their own particular character. But it never begins that way. English Christianity was, from the start, unquestionably Roman. The Slavs, though able to worship in their own language thanks to the work of Cyril and Methodius, took on a very recognisably Greek Christianity.</div><br /><div></div><div>Is there another way?</div><br /><div></div><div>Matteo Ricci and his superior Alexander Valignano thought there was. And they were given a unique opportunity. Before them they found a culture whose essence was not fundamentally opposed to anything in Christianity. Sure, there were some questionable practices around. No Christian could countenance the widespread practice of concubinage or foot-binding. But at the heart of Chinese culture were duty, filial piety and the whole magnificent ethic of Confucius. In some ways, Chinese culture presented an even greater opportunity than that facing the first Christians who evangelised and converted the Greeks for, whereas the latter had to contend with a typically pagan pantheon whose morals were repugnant and the characteristic suspicion of the body in Greek philosophy, all of these were absent in China. It was an almost unprecedented thing. A sophisticated civilisation with a high ethic. No Dark Age barbarians who would kill you as soon as look at you here. No nomadic tribes as in South America. Nor even a high civilisation built on blood, as in Mexico. No, here was an ancient and highly civilised culture with its own Plato.</div><br /><div></div><div>The danger of course was that unscrupulous missionaries would come in and treat the Chinese and their culture like other groups they would evangelise, either as an uncivilised group that would need to receive the equal gifts of civilisation and Christianity from the hands of the missionaries, or as a pagan civilisation that must be fought and destroyed so that a Christian civilisation might take root. This, alas, is the route most missionaries eventually took, but it was not taken by Matteo Ricci nor by his immediate Jesuit successors.</div><br /><div></div><div>Here is a pertinent excerpt, from towards the end of Ricci's life when he has to consider the future of the mission (translated from the French as best I can):<br /></div><div></div><div><br /><blockquote>Ricci could see from his own experience eight reasons for hope. Firstly, the miraculous progress accomplished in spite of immense difficulties seemed to prove that God looked on the development of the [Chinese] mission with a favourable eye. Secondly, since the Chinese regarded reason as the highest of all things, Christianity, a religion supported by reason, would satisfy them as much intellectually as mystically. Thirdly, books, which circulated freely in China, would permit the diffusion of an important apostolic literature. Fourthly, the Chinese, an intelligent people, were prepared to admit the superiority of Westerners in metaphysics and theology, as well as in the domains of mathematics and astronomy. Fifthly, Ricci had become convinced, thanks in large part to his study of their ancient beliefs, that the Chinese, a people pious by nature, had created for themselves a philosophy which conformed in almost every point to natural law. Sixthly, the peace which reigned in this country would permit Christianity, once established, to be maintained in a more or less permanent fashion. Seventhly, by adapting themselves to the Chinese mindset and etiquette, missionaries would certainly be known as wise and holy men. Eighthly, the doctrine of Confucius would be for them a most precious ally in their struggle against idolatrous sects [i.e. Buddhism and, to a much lesser extent, Taoism].<br /></blockquote></div><div>One of the really interesting things about all of this is the quite fundamental question, which we never find it necessary to think about: What really is of the substance of Christianity, and what are its accidents? Another book I've been reading on and off for a while is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Origins-Christian-Mystical-Tradition-Plato/dp/0199291403/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1294440263&sr=8-1">"The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition: From Plato to Denys"</a> by Andrew Louth, which has brought home to me in new and surprising ways to what extent our doctrines and our whole spiritual approach, in both East and West, depend upon Plato and those who came after him (I had hitherto no idea, for example, how vital were the foundations laid in Philo's ideas about the logos to later Christology). In Confucius, Matteo Ricci had a fascinating possibility open to him. Could he do with Confucius what the early Christian theologians had done with Plato? Could Christianity be built as solidly and fruitfully on the Chinese ethical tradition as it had been on the Greek philosophical tradition? </div><br /><div></div><div>During his lifetime, the approach that Ricci took worked, even if it had slow beginnings. By the end of his life, he had been granted permission to live permanently in Beijing and was being inundated by Confucian mandarins, the cultural elite, and other government officials impressed and intrigued by his scholarship, ideas, skills (he was an adept clockmaker and cartographer) and religion. He had published several books, including a catechism which drew heavily on Confucius to demonstrate Christian truths. </div><br /><div></div><div>Of course, since his death things have not turned out so well. There has been a lot of water under the bridge. The Rites Controversy, when the Church foolishly and ignorantly forbade the Chinese Christians from revering Confucius or venerating their ancestors during Qingming (thankfully rescinded, though far too late, in 1939); the whole wretchedness of colonialism, the Opium Wars and the Boxer Rebellion; the Taiping Tianguo*; and then the unmitigated disaster that was the twentieth century, whose low point was the induced national brain-death that was the Cultural Revolution, when China's leaders sought to destroy utterly the great ethical tradition that had been the foundation of the Chinese people's culture for 2500 years. </div><br /><div></div><div>Where to from here, for Christianity in China, or indeed for China itself?</div><br /><div></div><div>I don't know. But I recall something that Finn Torjesen (whose organisation <a href="http://www.evergreenchina.net/home/">'Evergreen'</a> is carrying on a work not entirely dissimilar to Ricci's) said to me when I and some other Evangelicals visited him in China in 2003; that China is heir, as the Chinese love to boast, to a 4000 year old continuous culture and, though the last hundred years have been years of terrible upheaval, that is just a blip in their history and we don't as yet know where things will eventually settle or how the pieces will fall.</div><br /><div></div><div>I don't know to what extent the approach or ideas of Matteo Ricci are still relevant or appropriate in modern China. Maybe there is no way to recapture the opportunities he saw, now irrevocably lost. Or maybe his ideas are the key to the future of the gospel in China. In any case, I have no doubt that he has not ceased to pray for China and the Chinese, his adopted country and people, especially over the past hundred grievous years, and will continue to do so.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div>*Warren Carroll, my favourite historian, is very sympathetic to the Taiping Tianguo.I find that remarkable. To me, the Taiping Tianguo epitomises the wrong-headedness of a quintessentially Western and usually Protestant approach to missions that shares, I believe, a similar error with the approach to relief practiced by too many celebrity charity workers and organisations (I'm looking at you, Bono). In the same way such organisations delight in throwing money at Africa, exacerbating the problem of poverty but enjoying the catharsis philanthropy brings, there have been and are plenty of Western missionaries and missionary organisations who delight in throwing Bibles at foreign countries and those who hail from them. I remember well as a child being invited to give money or do fundraising work to help buy Bibles for China, PNG or other such places. Imagine my shock when I eventually went to China and saw that Bibles were plentiful and easy to come by. Come to that, I find the idea that you can give a book to someone who shares almost no common cultural knowledge with you and expect him to come up with full-fledged orthodox Western Nicene Augustinian Protestant Evangelical Christianity on his own simply by reading it a laughably absurd notion. But the Taiping Tianguo shows a darker side to this approach. You may endanger someone's soul by a) not bothering to explain anything about Christianity to him first, b) not bothering to explain or try to approach agreement on the basic philosophical premises necessary to accept Christianity eg. the law of non-contradiction (not accepted by Buddhism), c) not bothering to find out even the first thing about his culture and beliefs. Endangering someone's soul in this way is bad enough. Or it could, on the other hand, lead to the deaths of millions of people (most sources say about 20 million) as when Hong Xiuquan was given a Bible out of the blue, read it and went on to carry out the biggest and bloodiest civil war of the nineteenth century. There are better ways to bear witness to the gospel than this.</div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-72605021077281751202010-12-31T17:34:00.007+11:002010-12-31T17:52:53.943+11:00Two Thousand and Eleven?Tonight, lots of people will make resolutions for the New Year, look back on the old with regret, satisfaction or a combination of the two and look towards the seemingly boundless possibilities of twelve brand spanking new months to live through.<br /><br />For my part, I have only one hope. It is something that I looked forward to this time last year, but which did not then materialise. It is not particularly earth-shattering, but it does make me nervous about going outside or turning on the TV tomorrow.<br /><br />It has now been ten years since the turn of the millennium. Prior to that, we had been accustomed to describe our years as two sets of double digits (nineteen eighty-nine, eighteen fifteen, etc.), but the moment the millenium hit, it seemed most sensible to describe the year as a single number; to wit, the Year Two Thousand and so on. Last year, I looked forward with some excitement to the end of this pattern. It would again become fashionable to have double digit years. Twenty-ten was about to arrive.<br /><br />Alas, it didn't happen. Throughout the past year, invariably and with very few exceptions, everybody has gone on saying 'two thousand and ten' despite the superfluous two syllables this added to the obvious alternative.<br /><br />But this year- this year I'm certain will be the year for this important cultural language shift. People would have to be mad to say 'two thousand and eleven' rather than the much shorter 'twenty-eleven', wouldn't they?<br /><br />Wouldn't they?!GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-49413942112277656712010-12-29T08:40:00.003+11:002010-12-29T08:53:53.116+11:00St Thomas Becket<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz4oZ162qF1ayXOLHajUhz0fJivf0mJYqDYvHft-TbKuGtoawszxQCEPA3iiEBvlv-KWq1zOeGzLQrcbqepzdf1uqLyxUAF0S0g9AKec6tHuiK0TkkIaWGW0nU_WSYsfJFJ4liPyfqfhc/s1600/becket-3-sized.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555853978467081090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz4oZ162qF1ayXOLHajUhz0fJivf0mJYqDYvHft-TbKuGtoawszxQCEPA3iiEBvlv-KWq1zOeGzLQrcbqepzdf1uqLyxUAF0S0g9AKec6tHuiK0TkkIaWGW0nU_WSYsfJFJ4liPyfqfhc/s320/becket-3-sized.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>An excerpt from the Christmas sermon given by Thomas Becket in T.S. Eliot's play 'Murder in the Cathedral'.<br /></em><br /><br />Reflect now, how Our Lord Himself spoke of Peace. He said to His disciples 'My peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.' Did He mean peace as we think of it: the kingdom of England at peace with its neighbours, the barons at peace with the King, the householder counting over his peaceful gains, the swept hearth, his best wine for a friend at the table, his wife singing to the children? Those men His disciples knew no such things: they went forth to journey afar, to suffer by land and sea, to know torture, imprisonment, disappointment, to suffer death by martyrdom. What then did He mean? If you ask that, remember then that He said also, 'Not as the world gives, give I unto you.' So then, He gave to His disciples peace, but not peace as the world gives.<br /><br />Consider also one thing of which you have probably never thought. Not only do we at the feast of Christmas celebrate at once Our Lord's Birth and His Death: but on the next day we celebrate the martyrdom of His first martyr, the blessed Stephen. Is it an accident, do you think, that the day of the first martyr follows immediately the day of the Birth of Christ? By no means. Just as we rejoice and mourn at once, in the Birth and in the Passion of Our Lord; so also, in a smaller figure, we both rejoice and mourn in the death of martyrs. We mourn, for the sins of the world that has martyred them; we rejoice, that another soul is numbered among the Saints in Heaven, for the glory of God and for the salvation of men.<br /><br />Beloved, we do not think of a martyr simply as a good Christian who has been killed because he is a Christian: for that would be solely to mourn. We do not think of him simply as a good Christian who has been elevated to the company of the Saints: for that would be simply to rejoice: and neither our mourning nor our rejoicing is as the world's is. A Christian martyrdom is no accident. Saints are not made by accident. Still less is a Christian martyrdom the effect of a man's will to become a Saint, as a man by willing and contriving may become a ruler of men. Ambition fortifies the will of man to become ruler over other men: it operates with deception, cajolery, and violence, it is the action of impurity upon impurity. Not so in Heaven. A martyr, a saint, is always made by the design of God, for His love of men, to warn them and to lead them, to bring them back to His ways. A martyrdom is never the design of man; for the true martyr is he who has become the instrument of God, who has lost his will in the will of God, not lost it but found it, for he has found freedom in submission to God. The martyr no longer desires anything for himself, not even the glory of martyrdom. So thus as on earth the Church mourns and rejoices at once, in a fashion that the world cannot understand; so in Heaven the Saints are most high, having made themselves most low, seeing themselves not as we see them, but in the light of the Godhead from which they draw their being.<br /><br />I have spoken to you today, dear children of God, of the martyrs of the past, asking you to remember especially our martyr of Canterbury, the blessed Archbishop Elphege; because it is fitting, on Christ's birth day, to remember what is that Peace which He brought; and because, dear children, I do not think I shall ever preach to you again; and because it is possible that in a short time you may have yet another martyr, and that one perhaps not the last. I would have you keep in your hearts these words that I say, and think of them at another time. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. </div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-33061548919928246072010-12-25T11:48:00.006+11:002010-12-25T12:11:59.506+11:00NativityA relative, reading my last post, challenged me to stop whinging and do something positive to re-emphasise the mystery of the Incarnation. So I wrote this piece- about a week ago, but it seems most appropriate to post it today. I had intended it to have a kind of zooming/panning effect- from outside in the town to inside the creche to the Child in the manger and then to Him in His Mother's arms, but I fear some of the metaphors may have inhibited the effect. On their own, I think the stanzas work, but I'm not sure if the thing works as a whole also. Anyway, feedback is welcome. Merry Christmas to all!<br /><br /><br />A west wind blows, bleak chill forlorn,<br />Like icy oceans' rising tides,<br />And past is the time for wheat and corn<br />But the House of Bread abides;<br />And in its midst, amid the rush<br />Of census-driv'n humanity,<br />Unseen, unnoticed, is a hush<br />In the place of God's humility.<br /><br />All men may seek the comfortable<br />And shy away from any pain;<br />The mighty and the miserable<br />Alike reach for perceivèd gain,<br />But inches above a dirty floor<br />Where few but animals have trod,<br />The thin and prickly ends of straw<br />Scratch the new-born skin of God.<br /><br />Strong wine is drunk in palaces.<br />Though bureaucrats prefer it thin,<br />Kings laugh and talk, as callous as<br />A killer on the cusp of sin.<br />But Jews enjoy their Sabbath rest,<br />Recalling their commandments ten,<br />And at a Jewish woman's breast<br />Tonight God drinks the milk of men.<br /><br />Most mothers, having given birth,<br />Have idolised their newborn child<br />And, overcome with joy and mirth,<br />To former pain were reconciled;<br />But She whose pain is yet to be<br />Is silent, and with feet unshod<br />Contemplates this mystery:<br />The human face of God.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-59362074240882193012010-12-12T09:41:00.006+11:002010-12-12T11:32:09.561+11:00Burying the LeadWhy do we Christians shy away from the big selling points of our religion? <div><br /></div><div>Last night I was helping out at the Combined Churches' 'Carols in the Park' at Warragamba, in which my parents' church is heavily involved (my minimal contribution was to assist, in an ecumenical gesture, some of the young people from my brother's Anglican church down the road, who had set up a balloon animal stall for the children). Now one would think, given that it is Advent and Christmas is on the horizon, that this would be the logical time to talk about the Incarnation. </div><div><br /></div><div>But no. </div><div><br /></div><div>In between carols and musical items, there was a very well done puppet show put on by a Christian group, very professional and amusing and the children lapped it up, but the puppet talked about Jesus as King, and urged the kids to 'make Him <i>your</i> king'. All well and good, you might say, and fair enough. Then there was a short speech/sermon by the local Anglican minister, and he consistently spoke of Jesus as 'Son of God', but never as 'God'. Nothing truly objectionable there, either, you might say, and I can't really argue with that. No one expects you to use all of Jesus' titles in a short presentation. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the fact is there was nothing said during the whole night that couldn't have been very easily accepted by an Arian. And this bothers me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I mean, why would we shy away from the Incarnation? Surely this is Christianity's biggest selling point? What other religion is based on the idea that God (not 'a god' from a pantheon but 'the God') became human? Nobody else has anything like that! This is a word worth preaching. So why are we reluctant to talk explicitly about it? </div><div><br /></div><div>On the face of it, you would imagine that the more gung-ho and evangelistic of Christians would see the attractive potential of this doctrine and make it the centre-piece of their evangelistic pitch. But it almost never happens. And then we're shocked and annoyed when, at Easter, some fired-up atheist on the radio deplores Christianity's belief in 'divine child abuse'. It never occurs to us that we've left ourselves wide open to the charge by talking about Jesus the way we do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Nor is the Incarnation the only central doctrine we tend to sideline in public. I've recently been reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Surprised-Hope-Rethinking-Resurrection-Mission/dp/0061551821/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1292109193&sr=8-3">this book</a>, which restates the classic Christian ideas about eschatology and shows how far we've drifted from them in the way we tend to talk about the afterlife and the end times. Too many Christians have believed for too long in a kind of Platonic afterlife with some Christian features, and the authentically Christian endgame (the General Resurrection) has all but fallen off the map. Last night provided another example of this when our Lord's resurrection was briefly mentioned thus : "Then on Easter Sunday, Jesus came back from the dead. So, if you believe in Him, when you die, you can go to be with Him forever." I cringed at that, and imagined N. T. Wright appearing and turning over tables and chairs a la Our Lord in the Temple.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why don't we make more of these doctrines? They are, after all, utterly unique in terms of world religions and distinctively Christian. They are also unusual in their own right and attention-grabbing. And they have some shock value, particularly in a secular Western culture that still thinks it knows all it needs to about Christianity even though it has forgotten most of what it used to know. Idiots that we are, we've put the letters page (or maybe the cartoons?) on the front page and left the lead story for page six.</div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-21223134630812524452010-12-03T14:49:00.009+11:002010-12-03T15:32:25.271+11:00"Fighting!"Loan words are curious animals. Most of them are harmless enough. Kimono means more or less the same in English as it does in Japanese. But now and again, you come across an unusual specimen that has come to mean something quite different in its new environment from what it meant in its original tongue.<br /><br />I recall, for instance, the surprise on both sides when, living in France a number of years ago, I happened to remark upon an instance of déjàvu. I naturally assumed that, since the word was French (literally meaning 'already seen'), I could simply lift it back across the linguistic divide with no harmful side effects. To my surprise, my French interlocutors had no idea what I was talking about. Was it my accent? I tried a few more times in as un-English a way as I could. Incomprehension persisted. Eventually, I had to explain the concept to them, which they immediately understood. It turned out the French don't describe déjàvu as déjàvu; only English-speakers do that.<br /><br />I have recently come across another linguistic borrowing in the same vein, but exported from English rather than imported this time . I speak of the use speakers of Asian languages make of the word "fighting". It tends to be used alone as a kind of exclamation and its meaning seems to be located, as far as I can gather, somewhere between, "Chin up!", "Go for it!" and "Hang in there!". I first met it in a Korean TV show called <em>Full House</em> (unrelated to the 80s American sitcom) in which the heroine would say it frequently when facing a difficult situation or trying to encourage someone. I have since heard it on the lips of a number of my students when facing exams or when their course workload is weighing heavily on them.<br /><br />What interests and amuses me not a little about all this is that they expect me to understand what they mean because, of course, it's an English word. Which I do, but only because I have some acquaintance with Asian people and Asian culture. It doesn't occur to them that an Australian wouldn't pat his mate on the back if he'd had a bad day or was facing some difficulty and say in a bracing tone, "Fighting! Fighting!" just as it never occurred to me that the French wouldn't describe déjàvu as déjàvu.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-58987071445566402732010-12-02T15:03:00.006+11:002010-12-03T14:46:45.604+11:00As Advent BeginsThere is something wonderfully accessible about Advent.<br /><br />Perhaps part of it is the long lack of focus that tends to obtain during Ordinary Time. That is certainly true for me, wherefore I have been looking forward to the season for quite some time. But I think that mostly Advent is accessible for much the same reason that Dante's <em>Purgatorio</em> is the most accessible part of the Divine Comedy- it's where we are.<br /><br />Who is not acquainted with longing? Who does not know the desire for something just out of reach? Who has not felt the thrill and sweet pain of awaiting something promised but not yet received? The spring in the step as one embarks upon a long journey, the accelerated heartbeat as the plane takes off on its way to a foreign country, the joy of anticipated reunion- <em>sehnsucht</em> is part of the universal human experience. "How long, O Lord?", we ask in eager anticipation.<br /><br />Or it can have its darker side. Orwell speaks in <em>1984</em> of the way in which pain drives out principles until all one desires is simply for it to stop. Many of us, young, affluent and comfortable, are insulated from such an experience, but myriad others are not. Persecutions and injustices and bloodshed go on, and those in the middle of them cry out, "How long, O Lord?" in agony and desperation.<br /><br />Advent is where all of us are. If we allow ourselves to be free of our distractions long enough (or even, sometimes, if we don't) we are aware that all is not right in the cosmos. There is a lack. There are problems. There are atrocities and petty selfishnesses and parasitic wasps. We know within ourselves that the world is not the way it is supposed to be. Much closer to home, we know that <em>we</em> are not as we are supposed to be. At a most basic human level, we sense our alienation and dislocation.<br /><br />Some of us know that that for which we long, that for which we hope, is Christ. He Who will put all to rights, the universe's rightful sovereign, is coming. We try to strengthen in ourselves the desire for Him. He, cure of our miseries, better than our hopes, will not delay.<br /><br />He came once before, and we know His face. We had the opportunity to get to know Him. And He has left behind Him, for our sake, the Church which bears witness to Him, and the Spirit through Whom it speaks and which sanctifies its members.<br /><br />But He has not come back yet.<br /><br />And so we Christians wait, knowing Him for Whom we wait. Knowing Him, Who brings into focus our hopes, desires and longings, our distresses, difficulties and failures, knowing that He will fulfill them all and bring them to their predestined end.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-74881184531693878462010-11-22T19:58:00.005+11:002010-11-22T20:17:33.745+11:00The Kingdom of Heaven is Like...<div>Spooky supernatural stories will have to wait. I have another poetic offering in the offing. Not my greatest work, I'll admit, but some of the lines are fair to decent. Feedback is most welcome.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>While others might have found their place<div>By giving in and saving face,</div><div>And many are the kind that chose</div><div>To swim the way the current flows,</div><div>I far prefer to such a set</div><div>The ones not loath to make a bet</div><div>On odds unfair and prospects bleak</div><div>And risk the loss of what they seek,</div><div>Who disregard the passing fad</div><div>And do not miss the things they had</div><div>When sold was all their earthly wealth</div><div>In hopes of winning joy by stealth.</div><div>No sure thing is the hidden yield</div><div>Beneath some undistinguished field</div><div>Which randomly is bought and sold</div><div>Because it may hide buried gold.</div><div>And what of him whose only gain</div><div>Consists in fruit of oyster's pain</div><div>For which he'd give up all to take?</div><div>It may well be a clever fake!</div><div>Such ventures will not ever earn</div><div>The smile of an insurance firm,</div><div>Nor would economists approve</div><div>As valid a financial move</div><div>Which had such low chance of success,</div><div>Whose sure end would be sore distress</div><div>For anyone who chanced to take</div><div>Such low odds for so high a stake.</div><div>But sense and safety won't suffice</div><div>For dungeon-dwellers, 'mid their lice,</div><div>Who won't accept their grim surrounds</div><div>But second-guess the dubious grounds</div><div>On which their fellows built a case</div><div>For keeping to one's proper place.</div><div>A prison schedule keeps the mind</div><div>Alert and fit, but disinclined</div><div>To look beyond it's narrow walls.</div><div>But somewhere out there, something calls...</div><div>An unobtrusive, subtle sound,</div><div>A snatch of music echoing round,</div><div>A half-remembered melody</div><div>Like waked love or old company;</div><div>A siren song scores have declined</div><div>That grabs the heart and wakes the mind.</div><div>Though many happy minds remain</div><div>Encelled, with means to entertain</div><div>Themselves for endless hours on end,</div><div>A few, a very few, contend</div><div>That only by their breaking free</div><div>Will they save their humanity,</div><div>And maybe even come upon</div><div>A greater one than Solomon.</div><div>So contrary to all advice,</div><div>A small band reckons small the price</div><div>And, staking all on what they'll find,</div><div>They smile and, trembling, leave behind</div><div>The multitudes who found their place</div><div>By giving in and saving face.</div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-73929581534563775712010-11-21T20:27:00.005+11:002010-11-21T20:36:15.205+11:00I Write Like...I discovered (courtesy of <a href="http://marymagdalen.blogspot.com/">Fr Ray Blake</a>) <a href="http://iwl.me/">this site</a>, which purports to analyse your writing style and tell you to which famous writer your writing is most similar. Curious, I gave it a shot, and apparently...<br /><br /><div style="BORDER-BOTTOM: #ddd 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #ddd 2px solid; PADDING-BOTTOM: 5px; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; WIDTH: 380px; PADDING-RIGHT: 5px; FONT: 20px/1.2 Arial,sans-serif; BACKGROUND: #f7f7f7; COLOR: #555; OVERFLOW: auto; BORDER-TOP: #ddd 2px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #ddd 2px solid; PADDING-TOP: 5px"><img style="FLOAT: right" src="http://s.iwl.me/w.png" width="120" /> <div style="BORDER-BOTTOM: #eee 1px solid; PADDING-BOTTOM: 20px; PADDING-LEFT: 20px; PADDING-RIGHT: 20px; PADDING-TOP: 20px; text-shadow: #fff 0 1px">I write like<br /><a style="COLOR: #698b22; FONT-SIZE: 30px; TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://iwl.me/w/147eabd8">H. P. Lovecraft</a></div><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; COLOR: #888; FONT-SIZE: 11px"><em>I Write Like</em> by Mémoires, <a style="COLOR: #888" href="http://www.codingrobots.com/memoires/">journal software</a>. <a style="BACKGROUND: #ffffe0; COLOR: #333" href="http://iwl.me/"><b>Analyze your writing!</b></a></p></div><br /><br />I had put in the text from a lecture I gave a while ago on Galatians. 'Peculiar,' I thought, 'I wonder how reliable it is.' So I pasted in an old blog post. Same result. So there you go. Maybe I should leave off the poetry and try my hand at a spooky supernatural story sometime.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-27332889193578402232010-11-20T09:18:00.004+11:002010-11-20T09:34:08.804+11:00Strains of BeowulfGiven the title of this blog, it would be bizarre and perverse to refrain from providing a link to this very nice reading and step-by-step explanation of the opening lines of Beowulf (found in, of all places, the Telegraph!). <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/culturevideo/booksvideo/8135302/Beowulf-reading-in-Old-English-with-translation.html">So I won't</a>.<br /><br />The reader's pronunciation is slightly different from the way I was taught, but not by much. A delight to hear the ancient words articulated once more.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-59274115110949478562010-11-15T12:04:00.007+11:002010-11-18T11:30:33.001+11:00The Diverse Significances of the Humble Poppy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5KWp3ORt8P_8Q5yKolbKgHFgZRfHoMk_pipXy1PI9swh1ut6B4k_S6wWbBhQQ9sNxfZUtPwaqgoAp-4xu225Nm8jArhPw4N4JMAE6cTmiNRZffHUIBGtJn18pWquXmBMkIu8O7qYzgmr/s1600/cam1111_ph_345_jpg.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540680570811543362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5KWp3ORt8P_8Q5yKolbKgHFgZRfHoMk_pipXy1PI9swh1ut6B4k_S6wWbBhQQ9sNxfZUtPwaqgoAp-4xu225Nm8jArhPw4N4JMAE6cTmiNRZffHUIBGtJn18pWquXmBMkIu8O7qYzgmr/s200/cam1111_ph_345_jpg.jpg" /></a><br /><div>A clash of cultural symbols, by turns amusing and interesting, took place last week the day before Remembrance Day. The symbol was the poppy. For English speakers (and the French as well, I imagine), the poppy conjures up images of Flanders, the Somme and crosses row on row. For the Chinese, on the other hand, it conjures up the collective memory of the two Opium Wars and humiliation at the hands of foreign powers. Read about the aforementioned clash <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/world/uk-pm-cameron-snubs-china-over-poppies-20101110-17mqn.html">here</a>.<br /><br />In fact, I had a much smaller-scale version of the same clash the following day. A number of my students (the overwhelming majority of whom are Chinese) inquired after the flower I was wearing (I had been to a service earlier in the day). I explained to them its significance and, having done that, told them the name of it. Immediately, electronic dictionaries appeared and a flurry of typing ensued, whereupon a collective, almost simultaneous, gasp went round the classroom. Shock registered on a number of faces, followed by questions and remarks such as, "But...but...isn't it illegal?" "You must not have this flower. It is bad" and the like.<br /><br />That such things can have such divergent associations in different cultures fascinates me, diplomatic incident or no. What intrigues me particularly in this case is the fact that, contrary to his advisers, David Cameron still wore the thing. Of course, cultural associations don't de facto trump each other, but it has become an almost reflexive habit of us Westerners over the past forty-or-so years to give automatic deference to other cultures before our own. Cameron's breaking of the mould is slightly refreshing and I can't help wondering if it's a precedent for something.</div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-71538338519392361842010-10-31T20:52:00.008+11:002010-11-03T12:06:18.088+11:00Implications of Language Reform<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic2KD5MSlHvEsGbfPAOkLXVtANuozzyDyKMLSy_KkTEFwlrrQZ-LmAQcde5M72fqfVdt132Xdh86e0PSocr8hdUJ-D1A42feD-4JtYtL9RA1Vm8Q5WBo4wyMtUus09jv57U5ANhyphenhyphen7bqsa/s1600/traditional_simplified.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 130px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535122030233237394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic2KD5MSlHvEsGbfPAOkLXVtANuozzyDyKMLSy_KkTEFwlrrQZ-LmAQcde5M72fqfVdt132Xdh86e0PSocr8hdUJ-D1A42feD-4JtYtL9RA1Vm8Q5WBo4wyMtUus09jv57U5ANhyphenhyphen7bqsa/s320/traditional_simplified.gif" /></a> In the New Year, I will be visiting China, so in recent days I have been brushing up on my Chinese, which had been lying in a lumber room growing mouldy. I tell you this by way of lead-in to the following anecdote. The other day, I was chatting with one of my students during the break between periods. This particular student hails from Taiwan and I had some particular questions about some items of Chinese vocabulary, which I proceeded to write/draw for him (the distinction between writing and drawing fades somewhat in a pictographic language like Chinese). It was at this point that the conversation took a turn for the interesting. My student didn't understand what I had written. And, surprisingly enough, not because of my dodgy handwriting.<br /><div></div><div>In the 1950s, ostensibly to encourage greater literacy and increase efficiency, the Chinese communists reformed the language by introducing simplified Chinese characters to replace many of the traditional ones and introducing the pinyin system for foreign learners of Chinese. Warren Carroll, one of my favourite historians, despises the pinyin system and refuses to use it in his works, opting instead for the older Wade-Giles system, but I've never felt any particular animosity towards pinyin. The romanised spelling of Chinese words which is used in that system is rather counter-intuitive, but once you get the hang of it it's more or less phonetic, and unlike the Wade-Giles system it is capable of depicting the all-important Chinese tones. Unlike Carroll, I don't see anything particularly Marxist in pinyin.</div><br /><div></div><div>Simplified characters, on the other hand, are a different matter. I had been technically aware of the distinction between simplified and traditional characters before, but wasn't aware of any practical implications (apart from making them easier to remember and therefore read) before speaking to my Taiwanese student, whose name is Mars. </div><br /><div></div><div>A spelling reform in a European language is a purely practical matter of standardising writing so everybody is spelling things the same way. It may accrue political overtones depending on who supports or opposes it, but it is not by nature a political thing. This is because European languages use an alphabet. The letters of the alphabet denote, more or less approximately, the pronunciation. They do not denote meaning. Spelling reform, therefore, can only ever be an attempt to conform writing with current pronunciation or new conventions regarding depicting particular sounds. Chinese, on the other hand, does not use an alphabet. The various components of characters may contain a hint of how to pronounce the word but mostly they denote meaning. Which means that when you change characters, you change meaning. As Mars explained to me with a few examples, by simplifying characters the nuances of meaning that words formerly had are lost. This naturally has repercussions on how people think. </div><br /><div></div><div>Does this sound familiar? <a href="http://orwell.ru/library/novels/1984/english/en_app">It should</a>. </div><br /><div></div><div>Interestingly, I discover that there was a second attempt at further simplification in the 1970s which did not go down well and was rescinded.</div><br /><div></div><div>Quant a moi, I fully intend to continue brushing up on the simplified characters if for no other reason than that they are easier to learn and read. But, following this conversation, I can sympathise with Chinese outside the People's Republic who see them as a form of cultural rape. Yet another thing the Communists have to answer for.</div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-85203176836953085072010-10-22T14:08:00.008+11:002010-10-23T08:00:11.481+11:00For John Milton, Concerning the Barbarous Nature of Rhyme. A Retort.A shadow passed across the world, as those who saw can tell,<br />The day that, with a deaf'ning crash, Rome faltered once and fell;<br />And Cicero turned in his tomb, but no verse from him came;<br />Catullus' lyrics, like his corpse, grew cold; he said the same.<br />And eastwards, where an emperor yet sat upon a throne,<br />Men chose words for precision, and left their art alone.<br />Thus Homer's six dactylic feet, whose sound would bless the ear,<br />Were saved and savoured, handed on, but no one wrote their peer;<br />The Versifiers left their pens and gave up prosody,<br />But Providence was moving, moving imperceptibly;<br />Soon from the mist-filled valleys of the Frankish realm there came<br />A rumour of a righteous king, one worthy of the name;<br />From out his mouth came eloquence in Frank and Roman words,<br />More earthy than the badger's lair yet lofty as the birds;<br />And many men then came to him to see if it were so<br />An emperor was in their midst like those of long ago.<br />He called to him the artisans, the skilled of mind and hand<br />And then like falcons sent them forth, that all throughout the land<br />His tribe might feel transcendent warmth, with vision magnified<br />By craftsmanship's forgotten fruits, exceeding ancient pride.<br />Then men recalled magnificence, exulting to regain<br />A past surpassed by things within the mind of Charlemagne;<br />And in the days to come, though some achievements came to naught,<br />The sparks remained, and others fanned to flame what he had wrought-<br />In later years, when tongues were changed and others were no more,<br />In newbuilt towns were heard the sounds of those called troubadour.<br />A troop of trav'lling wordsmiths were these Carolingian sons,<br />Each man a gold-tongu'd Orpheus who captivates then runs,<br />And each one left behind him sheer enchantment when he'd gone,<br />A ling'ring vision built of lyric verse of Occitan:<br />Of ladies unattainable the lowly fain would woo,<br />Of cunning foxes, Roland's horn, of tales told anew<br />Of Arthur and his knights- these were the subjects of their song.<br />It broke upon the people like the sounding of a gong.<br />And ere long this unprecedented, mesmerising style<br />Had found a place among the race of England's scepter'd isle;<br />In noble rhyme did pilgrims wend their way to Canterbury,<br />In self-same form was one knight sworn to uphold cortaysie<br />While seeking for a man of green that he had seemed to slay<br />Whom he must journey far to find, and find ere Christmas Day;<br />The lilting sound of English words, their rhythm and their shape,<br />Made drunk the cream of England like the crushing of the grape;<br />Their interlocking sounds, like jigsaw pieces, like a jar<br />And lid did show our tongue's true worth thence <em>in perpetua</em>;<br />The very ideal Form of verse was this, its hard-won peak! -<br />Thus English made its own that which was sought in vain by Greek.<br />And all the poets gathered round and marvelled at the sight,<br />That such a humble language should ascend to such a height.<br />As for a hoard of scattered jewels, they grabbed and grasped around<br />That each might show his peers his own rendition of the sound;<br />The Muses smiled as they surveyed this thing they had achieved<br />And blessed the poets, who in turn revered what they'd received<br />And handled with grave reverence this sacred gift of rhyme,<br />As circumspect as priests, or actors in a pantomime,<br />Yet joyful with an almost Dionysian delight-<br />They came before an altar every time they sat to write.<br />So Spenser wrote in wonder of his virgin fairy queen,<br />The Bard improved on Petrarch in ways hitherto unseen,<br />And Robert Southwell's verses, which he offered with his blood,<br />Were kept by grateful hands the day his gore was mixed with mud;<br />Then Donne, late as a cleric or as first in passion's heats,<br />Did sigh to write of fleas and maps and various conceits,<br />And Pope and Dryden tried their hand at epic; with respect<br />Translating from the masters who were mouldy with neglect,<br />But reasoning such brilliant verse could yet more brightly shine,<br />To set it off, they placed it in a rhyming dual line.<br />Then lest the rhyme grow hoary with convention as with age,<br />Will Wordsworth and Sam Coleridge began another stage-<br />For rhyme can work as epic but is not thereby confined-<br />It can appeal to both the learned and the simple mind.<br />Achilles is no more fit subject than a man and son<br />Discussing which place they prefer- this or a different one.<br />But while these poets wrote their works and all the Muses smiled,<br />A figure in a darkened spot was sulking like a child,<br />A man apart whose hardened heart did curse them as uncouth<br />For writing rhyme, which he believed the realm of wayward youth<br />And Philistines- he far surpassed such unsophisticates:<br />"Blank verse," he said, "is better for our tongue's inherent traits."<br />And so he cursed the verse that rhymed, his face towards the wall;<br />Its very sound was bitter to his ear, like bilious gall.<br />The poets disregarded him and kept on just the same.<br />"He is," they said, "a harmless man- John Milton is his name."GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-83353235740497542062010-10-01T12:15:00.012+10:002010-10-02T15:12:32.815+10:00Glimpses of the Age of the Soapbox"The past is a foreign country," said L.P. Hartley, "they do things differently there."<br /><br />In recent weeks I have had the at times frustrating but also rewarding privilege of proof-reading and editing my grandfather's memoirs. The experience has been enlightening, to say the least. In it, my grandfather details his childhood growing up during the war (at 13 he was overseeing a factory because there were no experienced men left to fill the job), his years as an itinerant preacher in Queensland and his subsequent years as pastor of various Baptist churches.<br /><br />What has struck me most (and there have been several things that have struck me) is the difference between the culture of the 50s, when my grandfather was an itinerant driving from town to town in a "gospel wagon", and the culture now. Simply put, there is no way the kind of evangelism my grandfather practiced would work now. Not just the content of the message but the methodology.<br /><br />A slight tangent. There is a fellow whom I regularly see who preaches from a soapbox (actually a small platform) outside the Queen Victoria Building opposite Sydney Town Hall a few evenings a week. He is, I think, Baptist, or certainly from that tradition of preaching, and almost never does anybody stop to listen to him. Mostly, people are embarrassed that he is there. Some, no doubt, are offended by things he says (he invariably sets up shop during the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras and preaches hellfire in shrill tones to the passersby), others are simply put off by the fact that he is there at all, waxing eloquent to bustling crowds of the indifferent. I admit I usually have the latter reaction, even when I happen to agree with what he's preaching about, and I feel like taking him aside and telling him, "Mate, you're not helping the cause here. You're just making people more alienated from Jesus than they were before."<br /><br />Yet, returning to my grandfather's memoir, in the 50's my grandfather was doing a very similar thing. He would park his wagon in the main street of a country town or a Brisbane suburb, stand up in the back and begin preaching. And a crowd would gather. People would come and listen. Some would heckle, of course, but others wouldn't. Occasionally, there might even be converts. He tells of one time when he was assisting a Baptist church in Park Ridge, south of Brisbane, over the course of a few months. As part of the work, they initiated a Sunday school and would drive through the town to pick up children and take them to the church. As the weeks went on, the number of children who wanted to come rose steadily until they had to sell their vehicle for a larger one to accommodate them. This would not happen now, I think.<br /><br />I don't think these reminiscences are symptoms of a rose-coloured view of the past or, indeed, are isolated examples. For example, I think of what Frank Sheed used to do, first in Sydney and later in London- very much the same style of thing.<br /><br />What does this mean? Were people more spiritual in the 1950's? Are they less spiritual now? Or is there some other reason? One could, I suppose, argue that people who had lived through the war would naturally be more open to God and anyone claiming to speak for Him. On the other hand, can anyone deny that today's generation is more hungry for meaning than any within living memory? Alternatively, it could be merely evidence of different things appealing to different generational cultures. Perhaps both theories are true to one degree or another.<br /><br />There are of course practical considerations to take from that observation. If soapbox preaching was accessible to one generation but not to another, there surely must be some mode of evangelism which would appeal to the latter as soapbox preaching did to the former.<br /><br />In any case, it is enlightening to get a glimpse of this foreign land where getting up on your soapbox did not automatically make you a pariah and an oddity.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-51925481734114849552010-09-18T08:38:00.002+10:002010-09-18T08:55:42.670+10:00St Augustine on HillsongWhen St Augustine visited Hillsong last week, many interested parties plied him for comment on Australia's biggest and most influential mega-church. At the time, he was strangely silent; however, through conniving and skullduggery, I have managed to obtain portions of the manuscript for his Sunday morning sermon tomorrow. Though he doesn't mention Hillsong by name, I think readers will agree that his visit has clearly made an impression, and that he has some important things to say about it to his own congregation:<br /><br /><em>What kind of men are they who, fearing to hurt those they speak to, not only do not prepare them for imminent temptations, but even promise the happiness of this world, which God did not promise to the world itself? He foretells toil upon toil, that will come upon the world right to the end; and do you wish the Christian to be exempt from these labours? Because he is a Christian, he is likely to suffer more rather than less in this world. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>For the Apostle says, 'All who wish to live piously in Christ will suffer persecution.' Now if you will, you shepherd seeking your own advantage not that of Jesus Christ, let Paul say, 'All who wish to live piously in Christ will suffer persecution,' and do you say, 'If you have lived piously in Christ, all good things will be yours in abundance. And if you have not children, you will take up and nurture all men, and not one will die on your account'? Is this your way of building? Notice what you are doing, where you are placing a man. He is on sand, this man you are setting up. The rain will fall, the floods will come, the wind will blow; they will beat upon that house of yours and it will fall, and great will be the fall thereof. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Raise him up from the sand, set him upon a rock; let him whom you wish to be a Christian live in Christ. Let him note the indignities and sufferings of Christ; let him observe the sinless Christ paying for what He had not stolen; let him attend to the words of Scripture, telling him, 'The Lord chastises every son whom He accepts.' Let him prepare himself for chastisement, or else not seek to be accepted.</em>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-74658851138980808282010-09-11T09:39:00.006+10:002010-09-11T12:28:53.961+10:00Great-Grandson of Discovering the Classics<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQJ-otKbOMTbMRPygRO1f7ZHK6P7Xx8gPs-7W0RzJzBn0K9Pqs_uraJxGjLmwXJ5iaj5RCUcBH2gD61QCg0-G9h3ciWcvVJDbizaNCPptcz2dRSB1zS9LM132cJlroqYkPyoaLLyfTHXm/s1600/Blake+The+Temptation+and+Fall+of+Eve+1808.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515474760996971682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQJ-otKbOMTbMRPygRO1f7ZHK6P7Xx8gPs-7W0RzJzBn0K9Pqs_uraJxGjLmwXJ5iaj5RCUcBH2gD61QCg0-G9h3ciWcvVJDbizaNCPptcz2dRSB1zS9LM132cJlroqYkPyoaLLyfTHXm/s400/Blake+The+Temptation+and+Fall+of+Eve+1808.jpg" /></a><br /><div>This week, I finally finished Milton's <em>Paradise Lost</em>. </div><br /><div></div><div>I confess I have mixed feelings about it. I should emphasise, though, that that is a personal reaction. It would be futile to deny that this is one of the great works of English literature. Certainly I have no intention of denying it. Let me therefore unpack some of my impressions, for what they are worth.</div><br /><div><strong>The Poetry</strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><div>Milton really knows his way around iambic pentameter. And he knows how to sustain it for the long haul. That's no mean feat. Shakespeare could take advantage of the nature of dialogue to allow him some variety in his use of that metre, but Milton, though he has several series of long monologues (I'm not sure if its legitimate to call them dialogues when its mostly long speeches replying to each other or whole books of recounted narrative in direct speech), also has masses of poetic description sustained for pages. To maintain that in iambic pentameter is impressive.</div><br /><div></div><div>And some absolutely delicious lines result. Who could deny the delectability of a line like 'So glozed the tempter and his proem tuned'? How I would love to use that in a conversation one day! Or this description of ante-deluvian women: 'Bred only and completed to the taste/ Of lustful appetance, to sing, to dance,/ To dress, to troll the tongue and roll the eye.' Or the description of Noah as 'the only son of light in a dark age'. Wonderful.</div><br /><div></div><div>I was a bit put off by Milton's aversion to rhyme (this would have been alleviated if he had accorded any affection to alliteration, but nothing was apparent). He has strong views on the matter- he speaks of rhyme as 'the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame metre' and those who will regard its absence as a defect are, to him, 'vulgar readers'. But he refuses to be constrained by 'the troublesome and modern bondage of rhyming', whatever anyone else may think. To which, my hackles being raised, I was of a good mind to retort, "Hey!" in a wounded and indignant tone. But that is a rather inarticulate way to reply to a great English poet, so this vulgar reader has a good mind at some point in the future to craft a poetic protest defending rhyme in heroic couplets (and yes, they will be in iambic pentameter). Watch this space.</div><br /><div></div><div><strong>The Story and Theology</strong></div><br /><div></div><div>There's no way of treating the narrative and its theological ideas and implications separately, so I won't. </div><br /><div></div><div>There's no denying that Milton writes a cracking tale, rousing and suspenseful. It does go on a bit in parts, and the modern reader is likely to get bogged down in a few bits (so, perhaps, even some older readers- Samuel Johnson declared of the poem, 'None ever wished it longer than it was.'), but the narrative as a narrative is very well-crafted. Particularly notable bits, and certainly the most memorable ones, are the opening in Hell, the account of the war in Heaven (very anthropomorphically told, but Milton sidesteps this by Raphael's explaining to Adam that he has had to translate what happened into terms Adam can understand) and most especially the temptation itself. </div><br /><div></div><div>This latter is a particularly brilliant piece of work. Milton extrapolates from details of the Fall narative in Genesis and ties these together to make a temptation scene that is dramatically complex but utterly plausible. The reader, even with the benefit of retrospective knowledge, cannot help but be tempted, if only vicariously. Milton does this by drawing attention to things which the reader of Genesis too easily passes over. Eve meets a talking snake. Naturally, she does what we all would do- wonders how a snake could talk. The snake, who has been possessed by Satan, informs her that he ate of a particular fruit which, somehow, endowed him with the ability to reason and understand and this has made him capable of speech. Where is this remarkable fruit, wonders Eve. The snake leads her to the forbidden tree. She knows what it is, but begins to wonder. If an animal can gain abilities and faculties proper to creatures higher than it in the hierarchy of being (in this case, human faculties) by eating its fruit, what would happen if <em>she</em> ate it? What would she then be capable of? She begins to wonder about the prohibition as well. Surely the prohibition was a test. But what kind of test? Did God, through the mediation of the angels, tell them not to eat the fruit of this tree because He didn't want them to eat it? Or did He tell them not to eat it to see if they would? Was it a test of their ability to reason independently, rather than just follow arbitrary orders? Did He actually secretly want them to eat of it the whole time? All the while, Satan remains completely in character as the snake, not telling Eve to do anything, but all the while suggesting and encouraging her in these trains of thought, until at last she eats. It is a masterfully conceived scene.</div><br /><div></div><div>Of course, right at the outset, Milton declares the purpose of the poem to be to 'justify the ways of God to men' and much ink has been spilled on whether or not he succeeds. A lot of this ink I haven't seen, but I have read the poem myself and that, I believe, entitles me to an opinion. There are two extremes on the matter, and those at least I have read. On the one hand, there is Blake's assertion that Milton could make Satan an interesting character but not God and the angels (the angels in particular strike one as cardboard cutouts, in stark contrast to the demons in the first couple of books who are remarkably distinct) because Milton was 'of the Devil's party without knowing it.' On the other hand, there is C.S. Lewis' assertion that those who are offended by Milton's God feel thus not because He is somehow different from the Christian God but because He is the same. "Many of those who say they dislike Milton's God," he says, "only mean they dislike God." Interestingly, the edition of <em>Paradise Lost</em> that I have puts an interesting spin on Lewis' assertion. It is edited with an Introduction by Phillip Pullman, the well-known atheist and author of the <em>His Dark Materials</em> trilogy (which some have described as a kind of Chronicles of anti-Narnia). Pullman finds God offensive and repulsive, tyrannical, manipulative and cruel, the very opposite of loving or benevolent, and this picture he finds abundantly confirmed by Milton. </div><br /><div></div><div>Contrary to Lewis, I too found such characteristics clearly portrayed in the character of God in the poem, and I do not believe any of them are characteristic of God as He is. It is worth asking, then, why God is depicted in this way.</div><br /><div></div><div>Reading Pullman's introduction initially, I wondered if this portrayal of God might not be a consequence of Calvinist ideas. Milton was, after all, a Puritan (sort of), and I am not alone in finding the implications of TULIP to result in a God Who, though undeniably sovereign, is also morally repugnant. However, in reading the poem, I found this was not the case. Calvinism is nowhere particularly explicit and the more discomfiting aspects of Milton's God do not appear to be consequent upon Calvinist ideas. That appears to come from a quite different quarter, because it turns out that Milton was also an Arian. </div><br /><div></div><div>One of the chief theological problems with Arianism is it naturally leads to a theology of 'divine child abuse'. Many modern atheists have accused Christians of subscribing to such an idea (admittedly, the tendency of some Christians to reduce the whole doctrine of Redemption to exclude everything except penal substitution doesn't help matters) but this is only because they don't get the concept of the Trinity. God is on the Cross as much as He is up in heaven. For Arians, however, the accusation is legitimate- they really do advocate a theology of 'divine child abuse'. So, in <em>Paradise Lost</em>, though it is never really made explicit (though a couple of passages come close), the distinction drawn between the Father and the Son so that they are two clearly separate characters means that the reader doesn't really see the Son as God to the same extent and in the same way as the Father, if at all. Thus, the Father's waiting three days while watching His angels battle and fall against Satan and his minions, then sending the Son out to win the day in one foul swoop, seems callous and cold-hearted. One is more likely to ascribe that characteristic to God than the Son's heroism in routing the foe. Likewise, the Father's acceptance of the Son's offer to sacrifice himself to redeem man introduces all kinds of problems on a character level. Whereas Milton could (albeit with difficulty) have demonstrated God's love for mankind by implying that the Son's gracious offer to be incarnated, suffer and die was something proper to God and consistent with His character, the reader is more likely to see the Father's pragmatic acceptance of this offer as God's proper act in that scene. Pullman admits that the Son is the more sympathetic character, but is also perfectly aware that Milton did not believe the Son was God, even if other Christians do, and thus it is the Father Who is the depiction of what Milton understood God to be like.</div><br /><div></div><div>In addition to his Arianism, I could not shake the impression that a large part of the problem with Milton's depiction of God is the fact that he decided to make Him a character among other characters at all. There is some beautiful poetry associated with God throughout the poem, but little sense of transcendence or the numinous when God is treated of directly. God has speeches just like everyone else in the poem has speeches. There is little sense when the Father speaks that He is qualitatively different from the other characters around Him. More powerful, perhaps, but not fundamentally different. Of course, if one wants to treat of the transcendent or mysterious in a story, the easiest way is to never let the reader see it, like the way Tolkien never depicts or deals with Sauron directly in <em>The Lord of the Rings</em>. Moreover, though it is awfully difficult to write about the numinous in a narrative, it is not impossible. Kenneth Grahame achieved it with Pan in <em>The Wind in the Willows</em> in a scene that has never ceased to resonate with me since childhood (Pan? The goat-footed minor Greek deity, Pan? Yes, Pan- if you haven't read it, do so and tell me if you don't get goosebumps). Lewis, likewise, to a greater or lesser extent with Aslan and, above all, with 'the god of the mountain' (actually Cupid) in <em>Till We Have Faces</em>. Likewise H.P. Lovecraft in <em>The Call of Cthulhu</em>. Milton was a greater master of English than any of these; surely he could have pulled off a God who would inspire awe in his readers if he had wanted to. So, I don't know if I would go as far as Blake, but (much as I regret to say it) I believe Lewis far off the mark on this one. Milton's theodicy is, for me, a failure.</div><br /><div></div><div>So, mixed feelings about <em>Paradise Lost</em>. I think it is inadequate in what it sets out to do (i.e. in how it works as a theodicy); on the other hand, if only all inadequate theodicies could be as spectacular and brilliantly written as this one.</div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-20156934582430241392010-09-05T09:44:00.003+10:002010-09-05T20:53:42.651+10:00Four TypesAn interesting thought from Chesterton.<br /><br /><em>As long as you have a creed, which everyone in a certain group believes or is supposed to believe, then that group will consist of the old recurring figures of religious history, who can be appealed to by the creed and judged by it; the saint, the hypocrite, the brawler, the weak brother. These people do each other good; or they all join together to do the hypocrite good, with heavy and repeated blows. But once break the bond of doctrine which alone holds these people together and each will gravitate to his own kind outside the group. The hypocrites will all get together and call each other saints; the saints will get lost in a desert and call themselves weak brethren; the weak brethren will get weaker and weaker in a general atmosphere of imbecility; and the brawler will go off looking for somebody else with whom to brawl.</em>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-26566193640173003592010-09-02T12:16:00.005+10:002010-09-02T13:06:16.231+10:00Prophetic RumoursI've said it before and I'll say it again: sestinas are the dickens to write!<br /><br />This one took me three days. The most difficult part is ideally you should write the final stanza first. Maybe some people write like that, but I just find it impossible. Anyway, I'm not too unhappy with the result, and it is even possible some of you may share that sentiment. So, by all means, feed me back.<br /><br />The day the universe gave birth to man,<br />A stranger creature it had never seen,<br />And Nature then did tremble at the sight;<br />The earth lay still to kiss his fleshy feet<br />And heaven'ly hosts arranged in bright array<br />Did hover humbly just above his head.<br /><br />The day, the grievous day, man bowed his head<br />In shame, and found himself less than a man,<br />Lost, lost from sight then was the former ray<br />Of glory by which all that could be seen<br />His spirit did transfigure. T'wards his feet<br />Was now where was directed all his sight.<br /><br />Half-blind, self-blinded, salvaged dusk-dim sight<br />Did see but not perceive, for in his head<br />Stood now a marred mind, and cold defeat<br />Th'habitual taste now in the mouth of man.<br />A taint appeared to tarnish all he'd seen,<br />His thoughts now in perpetual disarray.<br /><br />But misplaced blame the eye that's lost its ray<br />Does place on what it sees when its own sight<br />Is faulty. No fault lies in what is seen<br />But in what sees. And foolish is the head<br />That blames the agonising pain of a man<br />On hardened earth who walks on broken feet.<br /><br />Long ages and vast distances the feet<br />Of man have walked beneath the solar ray,<br />And weary, weary is the soul of man<br />And seeking, always seeking is his sight<br />A half-forgotten image in his head,<br />The mem'ry of a thing he's never seen.<br /><br />And shall he e'er behold the thing unseen<br />Or grasp the thing he seeks? Alas, that feat<br />Remains beyond the best that's in his head<br />Or heart, despite the brilliance of their ray,<br />And all attempts to render to his sight<br />The object of his longing kill the man.<br /><br />But He Who made his head shall unforeseen<br />Soon come to man and wash his weary feet,<br />The cosmic array all trembling at the sight.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-41672249133285534822010-08-21T19:15:00.004+10:002010-08-21T19:22:56.009+10:00Election NightWhile we watch with trepidation and eagerness while the votes continue being counted, here's the buzz from a slightly different election. I leave it up to the reader to decide if there is any correspondence at all between these political parties and the ones presently courting power in Australia.<br /><br /><br /><iframe class="youtube-player" height="405" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/31FFTx6AKmU?hl=en_US" frameborder="0" width="400" type="text/html"></iframe>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-91357922828623909962010-08-19T14:51:00.003+10:002010-08-19T15:12:47.344+10:00Midday Meal PostponedI cobbled this together during a quiet moment in class (my students were doing a writing activity) in solidarity with those colleagues of mine who are presently snowed under with marking (as indeed I will probably be before a fortnight has elapsed). Reading over it again, I can hear definite echoes of Chesterton's Ballade of the Suicide in the refrain, but I think this ballade has its own thematic and poetic integrity as well. Feedback is welcome. Copyright is mine.<br /><br />I still have not yet had my lunch today<br />And now the clock is ticking towards three,<br />Yet still here at my desk I have to stay,<br />Marking endless mediocrity;<br />These students who assume stupidity<br />In teachers, with low marks I will repay.<br />You say I seem a tad deprecatory?<br />It's just I've not yet had my lunch today.<br /><br />While colleagues come and go, as is their way,<br />Arousing in me endless jealousy,<br />Flitting like the restless popinjay<br />Which sounds its cheerful chirp from tree to tree,<br />From page to page to page relentlessly<br />My pen swoops down on ungrammatic prey;<br />An end to shed red ink I fain would see<br />Since I have not yet had my lunch today.<br /><br />Oh, what I wouldn't give for one big tray<br />Of meat and rice- and cheese!- perhaps some Brie<br />Accompanied by a cup of karkaday,<br />But I can't even spare time to make tea.<br />I hear my stomach protest noisily;<br />Does my complexion seem a little grey?<br />Another essay. Health is secondary,<br />Although I've not yet had my lunch today.<br /><br /><strong>Envoi</strong><br />O Prince, why send your progeny to me<br />To educate them? I know what you pay.<br />But I would gladly teach them, and for free,<br />If only I might have my lunch today.GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343771172165876705.post-53773016108462237992010-08-06T15:09:00.003+10:002010-08-06T15:16:18.441+10:00St Augustine on the Transfiguration<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUhBVydiG1x1uot7CZV_-vRR475QJKdcdrE96d-HHh0Xhf_pS9POfmFXoOKBm0mHBSjiQwZAg8XI9vqG_eGMeGMeDIO9hhuFHXFFQFBTDks-oyWJ3JwKShT74xN0xBu42wpzSumummZCw/s1600/transfiguration-jpg3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 287px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502161280856444386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUhBVydiG1x1uot7CZV_-vRR475QJKdcdrE96d-HHh0Xhf_pS9POfmFXoOKBm0mHBSjiQwZAg8XI9vqG_eGMeGMeDIO9hhuFHXFFQFBTDks-oyWJ3JwKShT74xN0xBu42wpzSumummZCw/s400/transfiguration-jpg3.jpg" /></a><br /><div><em>The Lord Jesus Himself shone bright as the sun; His garment became white as the snow; and Moses and Elijah talked with Him. Jesus Himself indeed shone as the sun, signifying that He is “the true light that enlightens every man come into the world.” What the sun is to the eyes of the flesh, so He is to the eyes of the heart; and what that is to the flesh of men, that He is to their hearts…<br /><br />Peter sees this, and as a man savoring the things of men says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” He had been wearied with the multitude. He had now found the mountain’s solitude; there he had Christ the Bread of the soul. What — should he depart once again to labor and suffering now that he had a holy love for God and a holy way of life? He wished well for himself; and so he added, “If you wish, I will make three booths here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” To this the Lord made no answer; nevertheless, Peter received an answer. “He was still speaking, when lo, a bright cloud overshadowed them.” He wanted three tabernacles; the heavenly answer showed him that we have One, which human judgment desired to divide. Christ, the Word of God, the Word of God in the Law, the Word in the Prophets. Why, Peter, do you seek to divide them? Is it not more fitting for you to join them. You seek three; understand that they are but One.<br /><br />As the cloud overshadowed them, and in a way made one tabernacle for them, “a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my beloved Son.’” Moses was there; Elijah was there; yet it was not said, “These are My beloved sons.” For the Only Son is one thing; adopted sons another. He was singled out in whom the Law and the prophets glorified. “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear Him!” Because you have heard Him in the Prophets, and you have heard Him in the Law. And where have you not heard Him? “When they heard this, they fell” to the earth. See then in the Church is exhibited to us the Kingdom of God. Here is the Lord, here the Law and the Prophets; but the Lord as the Lord. The Law in Moses, Prophecy in Elias — but they are servants and ministers. They are vessels: He is the fountain. Moses and the Prophets spoke and wrote; but when they poured out, they were filled from Him....<br /><br />And in this glory is fulfilled what He has promised to those who love Him: “he who loves me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him.” … Great gift! great promise! God holds for you nothing less than Himself. O you covetous one; why isn’t Christ’s promise enough for you? You seem to yourself to be rich; yet if you do not have God, what do you have? Another person is poor, yet if he has God, what does he lack?<br /><br />Come down, Peter! You wanted to rest on the mount. Come down and “preach the word, be instant in season, out of season, reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine.” Persevere, work hard, bear your measure of torture — so that you might possess what is meant by the white garment of the Lord, through the brightness and the beauty of an upright labor in charity …Hear and listen, O covetous one: the Apostle explains clearly to you in another place: “Let no man seek his own, but another’s.” He says of himself, “Not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved.” This Peter did not yet understand when he desired to live on the mount with Christ. He was reserving this for you, Peter, after death. But for now He says, “Come down, to labor on the earth; on the earth to serve, to be despised, and crucified on the earth. The Life came down, that He might be slain; the Bread came down, that He might hunger; the Way came down, that life might be wearied in the way; the Fountain came down, that He might thirst; and yet you refuse to work? Seek not your own. Have charity, preach the truth; so shall you come to eternity, where you shall find security. </em></div>GABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10431348330548240949noreply@blogger.com0