Scout Sunday 2024

 On the first Sunday of February, a large contingent of the Troop attended Scout Sunday at our sponsor, a church. Unit Commissioner D. H. played the prelude, a work of his own creation dedicated to a late friend in Scouting. The hymn after the Call to Worship, Hymn 351, "All Who Love and Serve This City," was labeled in the genre of 'urban hymn', a genre hitherto unknown to yours truly. Some of the verses, however, though no doubt well-intentioned, could be misinterpreted in a less than Christian spirit. The scripture was Mark 1:35-45, the tale of Jesus and the leper who did not follow protocol and could not keep his mouth shut. The sermon, "Change of Plans," was well delivered with an ending that provoked further thought. Growing up, I thought that when in this passage Jesus could no longer work openly in these towns, it was due to his fame, rather than his infamy. This is not the case! The leper's failure to go to the priestly authorities was bad enough, since Jesus' healing would be widely known soon, but his indiscretion spread it faster. Jesus could no longer operate within the system. The leper's failure established Jesus as a challenger rather than an ally to the authorities on a time table he did not choose.

The service extended longer than usual because the church was ordaining its new elders and deacons. All church terms are subject to change in meaning, both subtle and gross, depending on denomination, and this was no different. In the language of the writer's home church, ordination is permanent status, but in the sponsoring church ordination, while confirming a sacred duty, is temporary. Nor are their elders young men on mission! The Scouts served the congregation coffee and pastries in the main hall and overall charmed those who had little to no interaction with Scouts or Scouting.

The Sea of Stars, Volume One (Jason Aaron)

 The Sea of Stars, by Jason Aaron and Dennis Hallum is a graphic novel based on the metaphor of space as a hostile and alien sea. It is a story of father and son, since the vastness and strangeness of the cosmos must be balanced by more familiar intimacy. Space whales are always welcome fauna. Some of the imagery could be considered problematic and appropriative, but it is difficult to gauge an appropriate response without reading subsequent volumes: sometimes the noxious elements must be established before the narrative can refute them. The plot appears to be a mix of the return of Quetzalcoatl with the colonization and Christianization of Mexico. The small boy beaming with light is definitely a Chist child figure, even if one in the mold of an apocalyptic Gospel, the kind you don't bring home to Mama Church. The space shaman raised my eyebrows, as well as an eldritch space squid, which presumably will play the part of the devil. There is a strong father-son dynamic which may redeem the problematic aspects in the eyes of some people, In the eyes of others, however, having a literally white savior may be unforgivable.

Edit: I did read Volume Two, but I did not feel the content merited a review here.

A Peaceful Sabbath

I'm recovering slowly, but I thought I should get some fresh air, so I went down to Japantown to poke around. I stared at the front of the Kabuki, debating whether I should go to a movie, but there was no way to tell non-electronically what the movies were, and my clunker of a phone can't deal with graphic overload (or scroll sideways). I poked about the mall, purifying myself of the last bad memories there. There were many cute shops, but most were not yet open.  I admired the scale model of Osaka Castle, home of the Toyotomi clan and then the following Tokugawa clan. I love castles, and it's a shame there are so few in the United States. Eventually, I sat in the sunshine in the Peace Plaza and ate my sandwich. The woman on the other side of the stone circle, who was sketching the sculpture in the center, had satchel with Watchmen characters on the flap; she had bought it in Chinatown. A bit later,  I had bought a cup of tea sans lid, so I was forced to walk a fragment of the way home. I passed a line of indigents in front of Macedonia Baptist Church; the Philadelphian Seventh Day Adventist Church lacked such a line, but was open for its service at 11:20. Clearly this corner of San Francisco has a metaphysical connection with the Aegean!

When I returned home, I took Puff the Dog-Sat to the park. I had worried he would have an accident in my apartment, but instead he slept for five hours straight and was ready to visit the nearby dog run.  He was very energetic, and a bit uncooperative, but he showed his age in his feeble dominance display. Even he did not seem convinced. (Right now he's hyper because I fed him several pizza crusts and now he refuses to believe there are no more).

Copts and Mobbers

The recent news that Egyptian mobs attacked a Coptic church distresses me greatly. The excitement of the Arab Spring has faded, when Egyptians were united against Mubarak, and normal, ugly political discourse has reasserted itself. The fundamental problem with many rebellions is the lack of a cause for which it is fighting. Attacks on Copts are not a new phenomenon in contemporary Egypt, but such rioting and unrest provides a pretext by which the allegedly provisional military government can cement its base or weaken its opposition. If the mobile vulgus is busy attacking non-Muslims (in which case Christians will have to do in the absence of Jews), then it cannot attack the true and established opposition.

Sales & Services

Written before the trip:

I'm flying to St Louis tomorrow for Archon. It's also Rosh Hashanah. I'm not Jewish, but I know how important the High Holy Days are in the tradition. I've also been listening to NPR, one of whose segments focused on the financial straits of members of synagogues. If I have understood the situation correctly, this is the time of year when many temples collect membership fees, partially via the sales of tickets to High Holy Days services, but many Jewish men and women who in better times readily paid for their tickets cannot pay this year. Although I'm sure it's a mitzvah to provide a ticket under these circumstances, the idea of selling tickets to a day of obligation is very strange. It's true that my Anglican tradition used to rent the forward aisles to various prominent families (including some of my ancestors), but the entire church was never declared off-limits to humbler and poorer congregational members in good standing! I find it hard to believe that the Jewish tradition would deliberately discourage Jews from going to temple, so I must be missing some element here that is clearer to one raised in the faith tradition.

Credo and Quechua

Recently, I went to a talk at St Dom's on changes in the English translation of the Mass (I always did wonder why the Catholic CHurch, which should know its Latin backwards and forward, translated the first word of the Creed "We believe"). All the talk of why the Creed uses "we" or "I" and how Christian know what they know made me think, and not just about the Creed itself. On Memorial Day, I took a road trip with a friend and a priest, a man of Quechua descent specializing in indigenous theology.

Now, Quechua is a tongue with both clusivity and evidentiality. Clusivity is a recurring linguistic feature of this blog; it's the difference between we = you and I (inclusive) and we = I, but not you. Inclusivity (and, I suspect, a desire to separate the Church from the "personal Jesus" Evangelicals) was the goal of the inaccurate translation of "credo" as "we believe". It seems to me that if the Nicene Fathers had intended the first person plural they would have used it.

They certainly chose to use it in the phrase "crucifixus etiam pro nobis" "He was crucified for our sake" (a benefactive!), but how is it rendered in Quechua? It happens that I don't read Quechua well enough to tell which form "muchurqa" is (the Creed is never a fair comprehension st, since one already knows what it says) - I know more about the verb forms than the pronominal ones. It could go either way - inclusive to indicate that God's plan of salvation is for all, or exclusive to indicate the authority of the Catholic church. If I want to know, I suppose I'll have to find a Quechua grammar and dictionary. I did find this link:
http://www.yoyita.com/Quechua/Rosario/Inini_credo.php

The other interesting feature is evidentiality, the mandatory marking of how you know what you know. These epistomological endings, I expect, would have an impact on the composition of the Creed - one of the reasons the Pirahã of the Amazon have not been converted is an unwillingness to belive in more than second-hand information. Some languages have more flexibility than others in evidentiality, and I believe that Quechua is on the harder end. I wonder what Aquinas looks like in Quechua!

Hebrew, Hebrew Everywhere

This morning at church, soon after the service had started, the Hebrew words within me rose. It is a peculiar sensation, and perhaps one applicable to me alone, that once I learn a sufficient amount of a language, the words arise unbidden in appropriate contexts. The trigger this time was the Hebrew/English Sh'ma, in Max Helfman's setting. Once my mind was primed, it was easy to think "Shalom aleichem" at "Lord be with you". If you have learned some basic Biblical Hebrew, the linguistic structure of the Psalms (in this case 27:1, 5-13) is glaringly obvious. My mental translation is partial and in places doubtless ungrammatical, but it is remarkable how many phrases in the service are automatically translatable - I already have switched from hearing 'Alleluia' as a rote response to an imperative plus the Name of the Most High.

Cliffside Contemplation

My good friends of the evangelical persuasion in Colorado once showed me a diagram relating a person and God. The person is on one side of the cliff, and God is on the other.  I suppose a broad river would be an acceptable in a land of non-swimmers. The zealous evangelicals either drew a bridge from God to the person, or indicated the transport of the person to the side on which God is standing. In cases where they drew the bridge, they asked me where I thought I was: my answer, which was deemed inapplicable, was to locate myself upon the bridge. The right location, according to my friends, is with God on the far side of the cliff. Dwelling near the presence of God is certainly the ideal place to be, but it seems misleading to draw a bridge and exclude it as a possible answer.

My attitude is more akin to the sojourn in Pilgrim's Progress, which I read at young and impressionable age. Certainly, we shall see God face-to-face in the end, but until then we can merely approach, but never reach, the Godliness which God desires of us. Unlike Pilgrim's Progress, however, I believe that the moral hazards, although serious, are not irrevocably fatal.

Skating on the Holidays

On the day before Christmas, I went with my uncle, aunt, and cousin to skate at the Squaw Valley Olympic rink. Only my cousin and I intended to skate; she is an figure skater, while I use hockey skates. We took the gondola up. I cannot call it a cable car, since 'cable car' indicates something else to me as a San Franciscan. The gondola which was packed tight with a melange of nationalities, including Russian who were either temperamental or merely sounded that way due to the harshness of the Scythian tongue. The gondola scaled the cliff over the houses until it became vertical and swang over the precipice, then dipped slightly, and went over the next precipice. I am profoundly glad that I do not have vertigo, but the tiniest touch of dizziness while staring down at the candid abyss is quite thrilling.

Once we arrived at the open air ice rink, I rented some K2 hockey skates, which were too soft to do proper crossovers, as well as locked in terms of the top fastener, although my inability to skate backwards is entirely my fault. I handed over my camera to my uncle and aunt, but few of the pictures came out, through a combination of sun and ice. Fortunately, I have upgraded to a digital camera, despite lingering Luddite tendencies (the dislike, rather than the smashing), so the surviving pictures were quite sufficient. As my cousin and I circled the rink, always in the same direction - I would have expected that the direction would be changed after the zamboni had smoothed the ice - we had a nice chance to chat. My other, older cousins had a chance to play together up at Tahoe, but this one was too young, and my parents too wearied, to enjoy this experience.

That night, Dad and I went the 9:00 Christmas Eve carol service, which involved candles in a cup and no communion (although Christ the King Lutheran does not celebrate communion as often as the Episcopal Church). Pastor Chip is a good preacher, but his sermon was middling in content as well as delivery. After three other services I can't fault him on weaker delivery, but I can understand why Won Jae Hur, the interim pastor at my church in San Francisco, chose to have guest preachers throughout the Advent season.

Christmas Day itself is a matter for the family alone, so I shall say no more about it.

On the feast of Stephen, or Boxing Day, we breakfasted late but well. I once again went to Squaw with my cousin. Instead of going to open air rink at the top of the mountain, however, we went to the minuscule rink which is part of the Resort at Squaw Creek (over dinner, my brother explained who owned which bits at Squaw). At first I forgot to specify hockey skates, and the apathetic Russian teenage attendant gave me figure skates - I had forgotten that guys who do not skate regularly use generic ice skates, not hockey skates. After two changes of skates, I finally found a pair that suited me. The circumference of the rink was restricted, but I could adjust to that circumstance. The scarring of the ice, however, was so severe that more than one person remarked that the skating was better outside the rink than in it. I tried skating on the inside of the rink rather than the periphery, but it was not much better and it was much tighter - I'm a hockey player, not a figure skater! My cousin took little girls in hand and became absorbed in teaching them. I did a fair bit of skating, but I also watched the Squaw Valley dog sled take off. The dogs were barking and bouncing up and down, but once the signal was given, they disappeared in a flash. We supped that night at the Six Peaks Grille at the Resort, which was considerably fancier than the places I favor, but it was delicious and filling, and what more can you ask of a good meal?

Bible Reading: Suffocating Debt

<sup>In Matthew 18:23-34, Jesus tells the parable of the unforgiving debtor. The servile debtor, who owes the equivalent of millions of dollars, appeals to his master to commute the sentence of slavery, and the king yields. When the debtor is departing from the manor, he encounters a fellow servant who owes him the equivalent of twenty bucks. This man pleads in the same way as the debtor had done, but the debtor is unforgiving, chokes him, and throws the other man in prison. When the other servants witness this, they report the debtor's actions to the master, who orders the debtor to be handed over to the torturers until he repays his debt in full. As usual, the parable refers the divine consequences of human interactions. Then, Jesus caps his parable by saying, "My heavenly father will do this to you, if each one of you does not have mercy on your brother from your hearts." (Personal translation, from the Vulgate).



This parable could be applied to certain recent events, and almost certainly has, but that's not my interest here. When I was in Confirmation Class (which I took very seriously, unlike some of my fellow students), we had to memorize, understand, and paraphrase the Our Father, Nicene Creed, and various instruments of faith of the Episcopal Church to the best of our ability. In the process of studying the Our Father, I had an insight which was deep for my early teenage psyche: "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive the trespasses of others". This segment of the Our Father was not a statement of desire for the Heavenly Father, nor a straightforward request for sustenance, be it material or spiritual; rather, it required explicit action on the part of individuals. It was the first time I understood my individual role as a member of the body of Christ. I also think that this act of human forgiveness, and the difficulty which many people experience in doing it, drives home what an incredible deal Christians have received.



It's worth noting that the language of the Our Father does not deny the seriousness of the trespasses; "forgiveness" in secular parlance has come to mean, in certain times and places, a diminution of the gravity of the offense, or even pretending the offense never occurred. If that is the way someone understands "forgiveness", it is small wonder they are loathe to forgive! Christians who are unable to forgive the peccadilloes of their fellow men, while accepting divine forgiveness for themselves, are worse than Pharisees, although the attitude is similar; at least the Pharisees placed the same (absolute) price on their sins as the same sins of the Judaean peasants. The other reason, I suspect, that this phrase receives such prominence, is that the Christian who cannot forgive others out of love also cannot understand the greater love which prompts God to forgive him.

That's my testimony and understanding. Feel free to elucidate, critique, dispute, as long as it's civil.</sup>

The Wordy Shipmates, by Sarah Vowell

I'd been meaning to read this book, and picked it up down in the Mission: my original goal had been to visit Borderlands Books, inspect the Abyssinians, and purchase a few really cheap old paperbacks (I don't care about bent spines), but Borderlands was closed for the day, or perhaps only lunch. So I proceeded farther south to Blue Dog Books and picked up a copy of this book.

The Wordy Shipmates represents a break from Vowell's usual genre, autobiographical adventures, although the research involved its share of driving around New England. The style, however, preserves her usual liveliness and sense of humor.

What struck me most about her description of the Puritans was the way in which their values were antithetical to contemporary American culture, and particularly conservative Christian culture. The Puritans were Calvinists, and thus believed in predestination, the doctrine which states that God has already decided whether who will rejoice in heaven and who will suffer eternal torments; what the individual does affects nothing, and a Christian follows the law of God because he (the Puritans were very male-oriented) loved God. Here is the knife in the wound: the individual does not know whether he is saved until he is hauled before the Great Judgement Seat, and it is more likely than he is already damned. Calvin himself doubted his salvation. Contemporary conservative Christians, by comparison, believe that believing in Jesus as Lord and Savior is the ticket to the Pearly Gates.

This assurance of salvation leads to the next contrast between Puritans and contemporary conservative Christians: the Puritans feared and distrusted personal revelation.; the behavior and decision-making process of our lame duck leader would be abhorrent to them. In contemporary conservative culture, however, personal revelation of the Lord's will is an acceptable practice. Puritan culture insisted that the leaders of the community interpret the will of the God for the whole.

The desire for assurance, however, found an outlet in signs and portents in every day life. Some contemporary Christians condemn reading the horoscope in the newspaper as condoning divination'; the Puritans could see the struggle between a snake and a mouse on the commons as an indicator of the future. This searching for security in public fora extended to individuals' public actions as well. A successful harvest confirmed God's favor on the individual - despite the cherished Calvinist doctrine of predestination. This equation of salvation with prosperity may have assuaged the fears of the prosperous, but it redoubled the doubts of those in dire economic straits, who already bore grave uncertainty of salvation. It is possible that the correlation of physical deprivation and spiritual damnation contributed to the capitalist character of American society. Compare this to the poor woman in southern Missouri who has virtually nothing but knows that she'll cross the Jordan when the chariot come to take her home.

The Puritan leaders, unlike much of contemporary America, valued the intellect, and wrote their own books since they had brought so few. The shunning of the intellect among contemporary conservative Christians would have appalled them, especially since they founded the two primary institutions of "elitist" education which the radio pundits so despise to educate the leaders of Puritan society. These institutions perforce included instructions in Greek and Latin, even though the latter was the language of the hated Antichrist, known to his followers as the Pope. The ridiculus mus process known as "dumbing down" was not an option for the Puritan preacher or statesmen.

That last distinction surprised me when I read it. The Puritans , despite their strong theological views, made a distinction between the church and the state and tried (with varying degrees of success ) to keep them separate. The difference between their view and that of Jefferson was that the Puritans were trying to keep the state from controlled the church, while Jefferson was trying to keep the church from controlling the state. The Puritan preachers were not allowed to hold political office, nor were the political office- holders allowed to be preachers; nor was this an empty distinction, although the impressive theological depth of any prominent Puritan leader placed them in good stead when arguing with the preacher. When Governor Winston lost the election to his rival, several men sheepishly admitted that their votes had been swayed by preacher John Cotton, an antagonist of Winston; thus it was not thought quite appropriate to vote according to pastoral decree.

Book Review: The Twelve Christ Chose

The Twelve Christ Chose, by Asbury Smith, 1958

I borrowed this book from the library of Saint James Episcopal, my parish church; its collection is miscellaneous and occasionally strays from selections one would expect in a Christian library, but often such a profusion allows the discovery of a rare tree of knowledge. The Twelve Christ Chose, by Asbury Smith, is one of those. Smith is an Methodist minister of his era; as such, he is more Protestant than many contemporary Episcopalians, yet does not display the reflexive hostility to any Catholic vestiges that contemporary Baptists might. His style is lucid, although non-native English speakers may suffer from some of his assumptions of vocabulary knowledge. It is no surprise that the model for his writing is the popular sermon, but the meat of the argument is generally sparing of Biblical quotes; in some cases, this dearth of direct Scripture is attributable to the scant material which the New Testament provides on the lesser-known apostles. He presents the apocryphal and historical material in a thorough but somewhat dry manner, perhaps enhanced in its original form by the inflections of the human voice.

The structure of the overall book is straightforward, and could serve as a textbook example of what I learned in school about essay composition, although the body of the book is much thicker than anything I have composed. Smith may well have composed, or at least revised, the introduction and conclusion after the completion of the series of sermons. The body of the book is divided into chapters, each one assigned to an apostle. Simon Peter naturally takes precedence in this series, but every one of the Twelve receives thorough and serious consideration. Each chapter opens with the collect for the appropriate saint on his feast day. Although these prayers are thematically linked with the chapter which follows, the archaic language may render them opaque to an audience unaccustomed to such formal and grammatically sinuous language. The material in the chapter weaves together several threads: the frequency and Biblical characterization of the apostle; the historical and social setting from which he came, which is assumed historical knowledge on the part of the Evangelists, but is now often obsolete; apocryphal sources and sources from ecclesiastical history, especially in the cases of the apostles about which very little is said in Scripture itself. It is worth noting that apocryphal in this context does not indicate falsehood or heresy, but rather material which is not part of the canon. Polycarp and Clement are excluded from the epistles for reasons of chronology, not of fidelity.

Dr. Smith’s intention in composing this series was the restoration of relevance to both clergy and laity of apostles who had faded, for the most part, into spectral visual companions of Christ. His thesis, that Christ chose the Twelve as his first followers and his successors in His ministry, suggests that the Twelve were chosen as individuals to whom we could compare ourselves and on whom we could model or avoid modeling ourselves. The secondary reliance on apocryphal texts and tales may cause discomfort to some, but this reliance is never weighted heavier than Scriputre when Scripture is available, and the audience would be wise to remember that the apocryphal tales are Christian tales intended for fellow Christians.

Dr. Smith presents an engaging and thought-provoking read, but I would caution against a too hasty reading of the material that allows omission or diminution of provocative and valuable details and examples. It might be suitable as a series of Bible-based discussions, and thus not far from its original genre. The collects at the beginning of each chapter, however, would require previous examination in order that a discussion group could understand the thematic significance of the collect.

Galatians 4: Better Never Born Into Slavery?

The talk of slave and free in the scripture reading from my programme makes me feel uncomfortable; although it would be absurd to read the word of God without considering the message, the message of a particular passage often discomfits the mind and heart. I am puzzled by the spiritual application of Galatians 4:27.

"Be glad, O barren woman,

who bears no children;

break forth and cry aloud,

you who have no labor pains;

because more are the children of the desolate woman

than of her who has a husband."

Within the immediate context of the comparison of Ishmael and Isaac (which, I noted, corresponds here to Jew and Christian rather than Jew and the not yet existant Muslim), the Judaizers are slaves who are persecuting the Christians who are free. Yet this quote from Isaiah appears to suggest that it would have been better for those who were born into slavery to have never been born. I agree with theis position, to extent that it applies to those born into slavery and never freed, but those who are freed through Christ could not have been freed if they had not been born, and that birth was - by default - into slavery.

In a way - and perhaps this is a misanalysis - the passage seems to say that never existing would be a better state than knowing God after the trials of slavery. I have had too many experiences where the freedom could be appreciated truly and freely only after the 'slavery' period to accept this statement without reflection.

Any of my Christian friends who could help me understand this passage better, your aid would be appreciated most sincerely.

Keli El

I don't know how to redate this to the current date, so I'll just make a note that I'm writing this on Wednesday, February 20th. The actual date probably doesn't matter, anyway, given the topic. I am currently dating an evangelical, and our approaches to prayer are diametrically opposed. I will try to compare the two without appearing condescending or smug, and I certainly would appreciate any insight from other perspectives. For me, the default form of a prayer is a set of words and phrases handed down by tradition, into which the supplicant pours his content (a brief note: I acknowledge the inherent sexism of using the masculine pronoun, but the female is too specific, the neuter inaccurate and insulting, and the plural an abomination of grammar), while Amy appears to build the structure of the prayer on the spot, adding content organically.



Each of us, quite naturally, is most comfortable with the type most commonly used in our tradition.



The most obvious advantages of each form, in my opinion at least, are that the preformed prayer allows a coherent compression of the incoherent spiritual longing that so often overtakes those of us who are not blessed with the gift of poetry, while the forming prayer gives one much practice in the organization of one's thoughts. The disadvantages? The preformed prayer all too easily provides a cover empty mouthing of words, but the forming prayers in the mouth of an eloquent rhetor can appear positively Pharasaic in its showiness; even worse, one can come to believe that oral fluency in prayer is an indicator of your spiritual state.