IBID's Freaking Awesome Blog

Veni, Redemptor gentium

2011-12-26T12:02:00.003-04:00

It's been a while since I posted, and its been a REALLY long while since I did a long Latin translation. They take a while for me, even short songs, like the one I'm about to post. It can be frustrating, irritating, and annoying. Translating, that is. I've never been that good translation. Latin is the the only language I can sort of translate (I should be able to, having taken 5 years of it!) and even that is usually riddled with errors. The last translation I did, back in March 2010, was proofread and reviewed by other friends of mine, notably Sheila, helped review for accuracy.

No one has checked over this but me. :P

About 1600 years ago, St. Ambrose, bishop and Doctor of the Church, wrote several hymns, including this one for Advent/Christmas. The title, like any decent religious song, comes from the first line of the hymn: Veni, Redemptor gentium. Though rarely sung today, it is sung today in the song Savior of the Nations come. Martin Luther (yes, that Luther, the guy who led to the destructive splintering of the Church and Western Civilization) translated Ambrose's song into German, which was then translated (from the German) by William Reynolds. Most translations in English are variations of Reynold's from German translation. Here. Listen to how the song sounds:

I know no German. I know Latin.

So I went back to the Latin and translated the song into sort of English. I tried to have meter within the stanzas, and even tried to keep the rhyme scheme of the original song. I made some changes in the translation from the original, literally poetic license, to fit such schemes. It may not seem pretty, but hey, do you want it to be pretty or do you want it to be accurate.

Well, this one might be neither, but oh well.

VENI REDEMPTOR GENTIUM

LATIN

VENI, redemptor gentium,

ostende partum Virginis;

miretur omne saeculum:

talis decet partus Deum.

Non ex virili semine,

sed mystico spiramine

Verbum Dei factum est caro

fructusque ventris floruit.

Alvus tumescit Virginis,

claustrum pudoris permanet,

vexilla virtutum micant,

versatur in templo Deus.

Procedat e thalamo suo,

pudoris aula regia,

geminae gigas substantiae

alacris ut currat viam.

Aequalis aeterno Patri,

carnis tropaeo cingere,

infirma nostri corporis

virtute firmans perpeti.

Praesepe iam fulget tuum

lumenque nox spirat novum,

quod nulla nox interpolet

fideque iugi luceat.

Sit, Christe, rex piissime,

tibi Patrique gloria

cum Spiritu Paraclito,

in sempiterna saecula. Amen.

ENGLISH

O Come, redeemer of the earth

Reveal to us the Virgin’s birth;

Every age is thus amazed:

For so fitting a birth God has made.

Not from a man’s conception,

But by mystic exhalation

The Word of God is made flesh

And in a womb, fruit prosperous.

The Virgin’s womb soon expanded,

Her monkish modesty defended,

The banner of the angels fluttered,

In this temple God thus abided.

She thus proceeded from her chamber,

Modest palace of the queen mother,

A giant thus with natures two

Eager to run his course right through

Equal to the Father eternal,

Girded in the fleshy armor,

In the weakness of our bodies

Strengthening all the virtues lasting.

Now your crib still shines bright

And newer light blows into the night,

for no night can falsify

what faithful faith can clarify.

Thus, Christ, most faithful king,

To you and the Father, glory we sing,

With the Spirit, the paraclete,

In eternal eternity, complete. AMEN!

THE DEBATE OVER HUMAN ORIGINS: Strange Conclusions

2011-11-01T22:53:00.000-03:00

It’s been a while since I posted parts of my paper concerning the Origins of Man. Life happened again.

Here is the concluding parts, where I offer my relatively original (though not completely original, I found) solution to the disagreements between the Genesis account of Man’s origins and those proposed by scientists. It’s a weird solution, but then again, so is the whole debate to begin with. It’s important, of course, but weird.

Pius concluded his three points by emphasizing, “the impossibility that the first man could have been the son of an animal, generated by the latter in the proper sense of the term” (Fr. Hardon’s phraseology).[1] Pius speaks in the realm of theology and philosophy, where the distinction between man and animal appears not in the morphology of the two creatures but in their radically different souls. Animals have a material soul that dies with the animal; human beings, on the other hand, have a rational, immaterial soul created by God that survives the body after death. A man is a composite of the soul and the body, the body being the soul’s potential waiting to be actuated. A body produced through sexual reproduction by pre-human hominids, the biological mother and father of Adam, would not be human, as Pius points out.

There is, however, a way in which God could use the normal generative power of the pre-human hominids to create the body of Adam. A successive sequence of evolutionary developments would have occurred over the thousands, if not millions, of years since God began this process. He worked with the natural causes of life, having in the living beings the “seeds” of future developments, as described by St. Augustine. God worked with these secondary causes until the right moment, when the body of the first human, perfectly designed to accept the immortal soul, developed. This perfect body would have been the product of two pre-human hominids (Homo erectus is the most likely candidate, following the evolutionary family tree). It formed within the womb of this animal mother. God then provided the rational soul. In the words of Philip Fothergill, “If these cells acted by the virtus of God to ‘receive’ a human soul when the requirements for the formation of a body fit to be human had been biologically fulfilled, then, in a sense, God would be the actual ‘father’ of Adam.”[2] When did the infusing occur? As with the infusing of souls today, there is still some debate over the exact moment of ensoulment. Conception would be the most likely case, so that at the very first moment of life, the first human was uniquely different from any other creature in existence. This first human, with a body derived from an animal but with an unevolved soul from God, was Adam, the first human. This spiritual soul puts man above all other animals, following Pius’ first condition. Man, likewise, is not the natural product of two animals but is rather a special creation by God. The theory fulfills two of the three criteria while explaining the evolution of Adam without falling into polygenism.

What about Eve? Does this theory provide for her emergence from Adam’s body? It can, though it involves a miraculous intervention on the part of God. The theory is as follows: as the cells of the single, fertilized zygote that was Adam began to divide and multiply, as is normal in animal embryonic development, the zygote split into two parts, two bundles of cells, producing twins. This is called monozygotic twinning (the opposite of which is dyzygotic twinning, where two eggs are fertilized by two separate sperm cells), and it normally produces identical twins with “the same genetic structure.”[3] The theory is that Eve is the second of the twins, formed from the side of Adam. God would have repeated the ensoulment as done in Adam, producing the first two humans. From this original pair stemmed the rest of the human race. There is one problem with this theory: Monozygotic twinning universally produces same-sex twins.[4] To accept such a theory, a scientist might say, would be to claim that God worked against nature, that he forced Adam’s human body to do something it could not do naturally. The chromosomal differences between a man and woman make it impossible for such a twinning to take place.[5] A Catholic scientist, however, remembers that such a change in the natural order is in essence a miracle: God working with nature so that nature works beyond its normal processes, though not against the natural process. This would not be the only instance of miraculous human reproduction. One simply turns to the virginal conception of Christ. Though there are examples of parthenogenesis (conception without a male) in several animal species, usually insects or reptiles, the resulting offspring is always a female.[6] Nature does not allow for male offspring through virginal birth; the Y-chromosome needed is not available in females.[7] The Catholic Faith, however, requires us to believe that Mary, a virgin, conceived and gave birth to a male offspring, Jesus. Just as God intervened in the conception of Jesus, so also He must have intervened in the special creation of Adam and Eve. The virginal conception of Christ becomes a miracle foreshadowed by the creation of Adam and Eve. This theory, therefore, provides not only an explanation of man’s creation through evolution, but it also provides a beautiful meditation on the first man (Adam) and Christ (the New Adam).[8]

If Adam and Eve are in fact twins, or even simply the first two humans, how did the human population propagate? Polygenic theories explain this problem by providing an already varied gene pool. Multiple first parents means a variety of genes, and therefore little to no risk of inbreeding. Monogenism, on the other hand, faces severe moral implications. If Adam and Eve are siblings, then their sexual propagation is incestuous. If they somehow had relations with other non-human hominids, no matter how human-like they are, they are guilty of bestiality. Scripture condemns both sins (Deut. 27:20–23). Of the two, incest would seem the lesser of two evils, since bestiality rejects both aspects of the sexual act (unifying and procreative, as concerns the promulgation of the human species).[9] However, incest’s tendency towards genetic deformities remains at the heart of the issue. How was the monogenic couple to reproduce with such a dilemma?

The answer lies in perspective. For modern man, incest is immoral. It violates the natural law and the law of God. For Adam and Eve, however, not only was incest allowed, it was essential for the propagation of the species. This is not an example of moral relativism. Rather it is an example of a moral teaching clarified or adjusted by Revelation. In the early days of man’s existence, the species needed to use incest to be fruitful and multiply because there were not any other humans. What God would later forbid was instead the norm. A similar clarification arises in the apparent conflict between the Mosaic prohibition against the unclean (discussed throughout the Old Testament) and the allowance of mixing with the unclean in Acts 10. The original law was to preserve and protect the faith of the Israelites. With the fulfillment of the law, such distinctions between clean and unclean are no longer necessary. Likewise, God forbade the Israelites from producing graven images of God (Exodus 20:4 and Deut. 4; 5:8). Christians, on the other hand, use religious art not because they reject the one God, but rather because the Incarnation made it possible to depict God visually, since God took on flesh.

A similar process occurred with incest. Today, due to “the accumulation of bad mutations during the centuries,” man’s genetic makeup is imperfect.[10] Genetic imperfections, even recessive ones, shared within families are more likely to manifest in cases of inbreeding than in cases of mixed marriages.[11] At the dawn of humanity, however, such imperfections did not exist. J. W. G. Johnson notes, “Adam and Eve were bodily perfect. In the early stages of the human race there was virtually no genetic load.”[12] Therefore, inbreeding among the children of Adam and Eve would not cause severe defects. As the human race expanded, genetic changes occurred, much in the same way that genetic changes allowed for the body of Adam in the first place. Some of these changes were beneficial while others were harmful; the genetic variances made it so that inbreeding became harmful, as genetic imperfections stood a greater chance of being passed down to future generations. God, in His divine wisdom, forbade incest even though it was necessary earlier in human history.

The debate between Creation and evolution over human origins continues and will continue despite efforts on both sides to reach a mutual agreement. There is, fortunately, hope. New discoveries draw scientists and theologians closer to an agreeable conclusion, one that allows for evolution and God’s creative power. God could have created the world and man as described in Genesis; He could have also used evolution, perhaps in a manner similar to the one described above. Any theories on this matter cannot contradict truth, no matter how convenient the results. It is the judgment of the Magisterium that is the final say on truth, and to this Magisterium one must give assent.

[1]John Hardon, The Catholic Catechism (Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1975), 92.

[2]Philip G. Fothergill, Evolution and Christians (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1961), 319.

[3]Dennis Bonnette, Origin of the Human Species (Atlanta, GA: Rodpi, 2001), 117.

[4]Fothergill, 327. Fothergill does not subscribe to the monozygotic twinning theory, instead favoring dyzygotic twinning as the origin of Adam and Eve. The issue with dyzygotic twinning is that Eve does not come from Adam, instead forming in the same way he did.

[5]All mammals have two sets of chromosomes, X and Y. Females have two sets of X chromosomes (XX), where as males have only one X and one Y (XY). These chromosomal differences determine masculine and feminine traits. This chromosomal difference would require, in the hypothetical Adam and Eve monozygotic twinning origin, that Adam come before Eve, as there must already be Y chromosomes for a male. The female XX chromosomes could not spontaneously produce Y chromosomes.

[6]In the first scientifically recorded example of mammalian virginal birth, a laboratory mouse in Japan developed from an unfertilized egg, eventually growing to maturity. The virginally conceived mouse was a female (Tim Radford, “Virgin Mouse Gives Birth,” The Guardian [22 April 2004], available at http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2004/apr/22/science.highereducation, accessed 7/19/11). See also Fothergill, 321.

[7]Recent evidence, however, shows that scientists in a laboratory can manipulate the genes controlling gender. God, of course, can do on anything a scientist can do in a laboratory, and one wonders if such a genetic manipulation occurred with Christ. Hannah Devlin, “Scientists find single ‘on-off’ gene that can change gender traits,” The Times (December 11, 2009), available at http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/science/genetics/article6952050.ece, accessed 7/21/11.

[8]Bonnette, 117.

[9]John Paul II, before he became pope, toyed with the possibility of Adam’s relations with a pre-human hominid, and the ethical allowance given to such a relationship (Leyshon, 7).

[10] J. W. G. Johnson, Evolution? (Los Angeles, CA: Perpetual Eucharistic Adoration Inc., 1986), 133.

[11]Gareth Leyshon, “The Problem of Original Sin in an Evolutionary System,” (2011), available at www.drgareth.info/Polygenism.pdf, accessed 7/12/11, 4.

[12]Johnson, 133. Emphasis in the original.

FRUITCAKE EPISODE 1

2011-10-19T22:58:00.002-03:00

Since the end of August, myself and the guys at Mirandum Pictures have been working on a series. Entitled Fruitcake, the series will premiere online, with new episodes premiering every Wednesday from now until Christmastime. Today was the premiere of Episode One.

Go here and watch it.

NOW!

THE DEBATE OVER HUMAN ORIGINS: THE CHURCH SPEAKS OUT

2011-09-14T22:06:00.002-03:00

Here is the next part of the paper on Human Origins. In it I discuss the Church's contributions to the debate, particularly in the writings of Pius XII, the first pope to deal extensively with this issue.

When the Church addressed the theory of scientific evolution as proposed by Charles Darwin, She did so with the belief that evolution could not counter the Faith. In the words of Bl. John Henry Newman, “Mr. Darwin’s theory need not be atheistical, be it true or not; it may simply be suggesting a large idea of divine prescience and skill.”[i] The Church allows for both Creation and evolution, as long as scientists and theologians retain several key doctrines. In 1909, the Pontifical Biblical Commission enumerated the doctrines that Catholics must hold:

The creation of all things wrought by God in the beginning of time; the special creation of man; the formation of the first woman from the first man; the oneness of the human race; the original happiness of our first parents in the state of justice, integrity, and immortality; the command given to man by God to prove his obedience; the transgression of the divine command through the devil’s persuasion under the guise of a serpent; the casting of our first parents out of that first state of innocence; and also the promise of a future redeemer.[ii]

Though not explicitly named, one sees in the Commission’s response a veiled reference to evolution. If there is a ‘special creation” for man, does that mean man did not evolve? If he did evolve, did the soul evolve with him? Could there have been more than one Adam and Eve? The Commission did not answer these questions, though the tone of the response implies the negative.

It was during the pontificate of Venerable Pius XII that the Church ruled on evolution, particularly the evolution of man. Pius was well aware of the abuses of evolution’s anthropology, especially as incarnated in communism and Nazism.[iii] It is therefore not surprising that he addressed problems concerning evolution and man’s origins. In his encyclical Summi pontificatus, Pius reaffirmed the ancient teaching that all of humanity stems from Adam and Eve (Dz. 2280). In a 1941 address to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences, he briefly discussed human evolution: “Only from man could there come another man who would then call him father and ancestor; and the helpmate given by God to the first man came from man himself and is flesh from his flesh, made into a woman and called such because she came from man.”[iv] He continued his reflection by examining the superiority of man over other animals, but then stalled his reflection, stating, “We must leave it to the future to answer the question, if indeed science will one day be able, enlightened and guided by revelation, to give certain and definitive results concerning a topic of such importance.”[v] Nine years later, however, he took up the issue again in Humani generis. Towards the end of the encyclical, Pius mentions that,

The Teaching Authority of the Church does not forbid that, in conformity with the present state of human sciences and sacred theology, research and discussions, on the part of men experienced in both fields, take place with regard to the doctrine of evolution, in as far as it inquires into the origin of the human body as coming from pre-existent and living matter - for the Catholic faith obliges us to hold that souls are immediately created by God. However, this must be done in such a way that the reasons for both opinions, that is, those favorable and those unfavorable to evolution, be weighed and judged with the necessary seriousness, moderation and measure, and provided that all are prepared to submit to the judgment of the Church.[vi]

It is a reasonable proposal. Catholics may freely discuss and debate evolution as far as it involves animals and the human body on the condition that those discussing evolution remember that it is still a theory, not a fact. The Church likewise reminds the faithful that the soul cannot evolve, that it is “immediately created by God,” and it is therefore off limits to scientific discussions.

In the next paragraph, however, Pius changes his tone. Here he comes to the issue of polygenism, about which he forbids discussion and debate:

When, however, there is question of another conjectural opinion, namely polygenism, the children of the Church by no means enjoy such liberty [of debating]. For the faithful cannot embrace that opinion which maintains that either after Adam there existed on this earth true men who did not take their origin through natural generation from him as from the first parent of all, or that Adam represents a certain number of first parents. Now it is in no way apparent how such an opinion can be reconciled with that which the sources of revealed truth and the documents of the Teaching Authority of the Church propose with regard to original sin, which proceeds from a sin actually committed by an individual Adam and which, through generation, is passed on to all and is in everyone as his own.[vii]

It is an oft quoted paragraph, and rightfully deserves the attention granted it. Pius places a limit on debating evolution, namely that Catholics cannot hold that a) some men after Adam could not trace their biological ancestry to him, or b) Adam and Eve represent a “certain number” or group of first parents. The first point refers to the theory of so-called pre or co-Adamites, men living before or during Adam’s time that are not his descendents.[viii] The second point refers to the actual word “polygenism,” which means “multiple sources,” indicating that the human race stemmed from multiple sets of first parents.

The average theologian could consent to this teaching with little to no discontent. If polygenism is correct, then there were people who lived after the Fall of Adam that did not descend from him, and therefore did not lose “the state of justice, integrity, and immortality” enjoyed in “the original happiness of our first parents,” as expounded by the Pontifical Biblical Commission. When discussing this problem, Pius cites the Council of Trent’s doctrine on original sin, which teaches that “the sin of Adam” is passed down “by propagation, not by imitation,” meaning that the biological descendents of Adam suffer the curse of original sin (Dz. 790). The sin of Adam would not have affected other hypothetical humans living around his time. Only those who descended from Adam would share his wounded human nature. This theology of original sin is crucial not only to Christian anthropology, but to the very theology of the redemption. If some men did not descend from Adam, then Christ’s redeeming act, His sacrifice on the cross, was not for them. The theological foundation for Christ’s mission, for the sacraments and the Church, and the entire Christian faith rests in the reality of original sin. As truth cannot contradict truth, the thrust of science cannot contradict the Church’s teaching on original sin. The Faith takes precedence over scientific theories.

Could both the Genesis account and the theory of evolution be true? In other words, can a Catholic balance the theory of evolution with the Catholic teaching concerning original sin and the creation of Eve? How would a monogenic theory of man’s origins work in reality, without implying widespread immorality, such as bestiality or incest, or genetic deformity? Several Catholic thinkers have tried to get around these problems by citing the Church’s relative silence on the issue of human origins as proof that She no longer forbids adherence to polygenic theories, adopting instead a more symbolic interpretation of Genesis.[ix] This interpretation rejects the teaching of the Pontifical Biblical Commission and the Church’s Tradition. Such an approach does not satisfy the above questions, and so a more thorough evaluation is in order. Three provisions, noted by Fr. John Hardon in The Catholic Catechism, highlight the essential doctrines required by Pius XII and the Pontifical Biblical Commission:

1) the essential superiority of man in relation to other animals, by reason of his spiritual soul.

2) the derivation in some way of the first woman from the first man.

3) The impossibility that the immediate father or progenitor of man could have been other than a human being, that is, the impossibility that the first man could have been the son of an animal, generated by the latter in the proper sense of the term.[x]

By keeping these three points, the theologian plants his foot firmly in the Church’s Tradition while incorporating the findings of science.

How could one preserve the belief that man evolved without falling into the error of polygenism? It is a tight rope to walk, where one misuse of a word spells disaster for the theory. Theologians have attempted several formulations to explain a monogenic evolution of Adam, yet many remove one or more of the essential teachings enumerated above, most frequently the one involving Eve.[xi] There is, however, a theory that seems to follow the requirements set out by both Pius XII and evolutionary science. More striking is that this theory might have the backing of recent scientific discoveries.

[i]Quoted in Christopher T. Baglow, Faith, Science, and Reason: Theology on the Cutting Edge (Woodridge, IL: Midwest Theological Forum, 2009), 190.

[ii]Pontifical Biblical Commission, “The Historical Character of the Earlier Chapters of Genesis,” (Rome, 1909) in Henry Denzinger, The Sources of Catholic Dogma, trans. Roy J. Deferrari (Powers Lake, ND: Marian House, 1955), 2123. Emphasis added. All citations from The Sources of Catholic Dogma are from this edition and are henceforth cited parenthetically in the text by paragraph number as follows: (Dz. 2123).

[iii]The main purpose of his encyclical Humani generis was to deal with certain errors developed by these perversions of anthropology.

[iv]Pius XII, “Address to the Plenary Session of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences” (Rome: 30 November, 1941), available at http://www.ewtn.com/library/papaldoc/p12plen.htm, accessed 7/15/11.

[v]Ibid.

[vi]Pius XII, Humani generis (Rome, 1950), available at http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/pius_xii/encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xii_enc_12081950_humani-generis_en.html, accessed 7/11/11, 36.

[vii]Ibid., 37.

[viii]Anthony Maas, “Preadamites,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 12 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911), available at http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/12370a.htm, accessed 7/13/11.

[ix]Karl Rahner, “Natural Science and Reasonable Faith” in Theological Investigations, Vol. XXI, Science and Christian Faith, trans. Hugh M. Riley (London: Darton, Longman, & Todd, 1988), 41; Mark Shea, “Interesting Conversation on Polygenism” on Catholic and Enjoying It (February 17, 2009), available at http://markshea.blogspot.com/2009/02/interesting-conversation-on-polygenism.html, accessed 7/15/11.

[x]John Hardon, The Catholic Catechism (Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1975), 92.

[xi]Jean De Fraine, The Bible and the Origin of Man, (Staten Island, NY: Alba House, 1967), 41 – 52. De Fraine interprets Eve’s creation symbolically, rejecting the belief that Eve was physically drawn from Adam.

THE DEBATE OVER HUMAN ORIGINS: Genesis

2011-09-07T22:24:00.002-03:00

Here is part three of the series. It is much shorter than the other parts, but I felt that it was better to give a short part here than to have a crazy long one. The next part will present the Church's declarations concerning evolution. For now, here's some thoughts on Genesis.

Genesis includes two accounts of man’s creation. The first account is one of the most familiar and beautiful passages in Scripture:

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.[i]

Though simple, this passage overflows with spiritual depth, particularly the beautiful phrase “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” In this verse, Scripture refers to the divine origin of man’s soul, the center of Christian anthropology. This soul, the Church teaches, is “immediately created by God.”[ii] The second creation account emphasizes this ensoulment. God creates Adam by forming him out of the earth and then breathing life into him (Gen. 2:7). He places Adam in Eden, a paradise-like garden. Adam is lonely, so God makes animals for him, but none provide the companionship he needs (Gen. 2:20). The creation of Eve follows, where God puts Adam to sleep and forms from one of his ribs the first woman (Gen. 2:21-22). Thus God created the first humans.

The paradise of Eden does not last too long. Through deception Satan convinces Eve to eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, the one prohibition God had place upon Adam and Eve. Adam ate it too, and thus humanity fell, for all of humanity comes from these two individuals. God banishes Adam and Eve from Eden. These first humans soon start having children. In their sons, Cain and Abel, one sees the inheritance of Original Sin, as Cain murders his brother. Cain goes into exile, taking with him his wife, and he starts his own family line. Adam and Eve have another son, Seth, and “other sons and daughters” (Gen. 5:4), and the human family spreads, taking the curse of Original Sin with them. All of humanity can trace its lineage to the original pair divinely created by God.

Though strongly in favor of a monogenic creation of man (as recorded in Genesis), the Church has little to say about evolution. Catholics are free to agree or disagree with the theory. Some early Church Fathers supported a sort of proto-evolution, what some call “theistic evolution.” St. Augustine, for example, argued that God created “spiritual seeds” at the beginning of time that eventually developed into living things. God triggers the secondary causes:

For neither at that time [the Creation] were those seeds so drawn forth into products of their several kinds, as that the power of production was exhausted in those products; but oftentimes, suitable combinations of circumstances are wanting, whereby they may be enabled to burst forth and complete their species.[iii]

This belief preserves God’s involvement in creation, working primarily through secondary causes, while retaining the theory of evolution and natural selection.[iv] St. Thomas Aquinas subscribes in part to Augustine’s teaching, likewise excluding “divine interference,” that is, “constant unnecessary interventions on the part of the Deity.”[v]

[i]Genesis 1:26-31, RSV. All citations from the Bible are from this translation and will henceforth be cited parenthetically in the text.

[ii]Pius XII, Humani Generis, 36.

[iii]Augustine, On the Trinity, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 3, trans. Arthur West Haddan, ed. Philip Schaff (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1887), III.8.13, available at http://newadvent.org/fathers/130103.htm, accessed 7/11/11.

[iv]Baglow, 189; John A. OBrien, The Origin of Man: Light from Modern Science (New York: The Paulist Press, 1947), 30–31. See also J. A. Zahm, Evolution and Dogma (Chicago: D. H. McBride & Co., 1896), 279–284.

[v]Zahm, 284–305 (quote on 304).

THE DEBATE OVER HUMAN ORIGINS: Evolution and Polygenism

2011-08-31T21:25:00.002-03:00

This is the next part of my examination of human origins. In this part, I give a quick summary of the theory of evolution involving humans (with a, I think, fascinating digression to discuss Neanderthals). Then I explain some aspects of polygenism. More to come!

Polygenism has its roots in the evolutionary theory of man’s origins. The traditional evolutionist account holds that the human species (Homo sapiens) evolved from the same simian ancestors that produced the “great apes.” Along the path to humanity, one finds a host of characters, all ancestors in the evolutionary family tree. The first, a sort of great-great-grandfather for humanity, is Australopithecus afarensis, the first bipedal primate. It lived about 3.3 million years ago (the oldest fossil of this species, nicknamed the Dikika Baby, dates to that time).[i] Part human, part ape, Australopithecus features a body structured for walking, like a modern human body, but with arms designed for climbing. It’s skull bears a closer resemblance to an ape than a man, and scientists now agree it is, at best, a human ancestor, but not a human.[ii] Australopithecus’ evolutionary descendents, according to the current scientific theory, are a series of progressively more human creatures, each one giving a small contribution to the development of the human race: Homo habalis chipped pebbles into tools; Homo ergaster developed more elaborate tools, as well as forming “a family structure in which fathers protected and provided for the mothers of their children.”[iii] Homo erectus developed weapons, putting stones on sticks. Following this line of descent, Homo erectus’ descendents eventually evolved into two branches: the Neanderthals (Homo neanderthalis) and modern humans (Homo sapiens).[iv]

Though often cited as such, due in large part to their human-like body and their apparent ritual of burying their dead, recent evidence proves that Neanderthals were not ancestors of modern humans. A debate still rages over the exact relation between humans and Neanderthals. Some scientists argue that the Neanderthal is a separate species from the modern human (hence the scientific name Homo neanderthalis), while others argue that the Neanderthal is a sub-species or race of humans (whose scientific name would be Homo sapiens neanderthalis). Scientists who support the two species theory point to the genetic differences between Neanderthals and modern humans, information unavailable prior to the sequencing of the Neanderthal genome.[v] The project found “3 million base pair differences between Neanderthals and Homo sapiens,” far fewer differences than that of a human and its closest genetic match, a chimpanzee.[vi] At the same time, there is also evidence of interbreeding between modern humans and Neanderthals. A recent study found that “Between 1% and 4% of the Eurasian human genome seems to come from Neanderthals,” providing equally compelling evidence that the Neanderthals and humans are of the same species.[vii]

Homo sapiens share many traits with earlier hominids, but there is one unique, crucial difference: Homo sapiens can talk. Anthony Zimmermann notes that the earlier hominids “could not have spoken a human language as fluently and as richly articulate as we are able to do. Our advanced type of speech organs would not have fit into their skeletal forms.”[viii] Verbal communication is a key to proving man’s rationality and immortal soul.

The evolutionary process described above assumes a theory of polygenism. Scientists normally list two supports for a polygenetic origin of the human race: “A) One human pair would be too narrow a base genetically for mankind and would imply a genetic weakness of an inbreeding type” and “B) The emergence of any new species normally takes place in numerous individuals about the same time.”[ix] Evolution does not provide a model for individual specimens arising alone, as a theory of monogenism requires. Adaptations happen in groups. These changes often happen in specified places where the conditions are most ripe for adaptation, and because of this, most scientists follow the theory of monophyletism, that is, that Homo sapiens evolved in one isolated region of the world, in one specific population, and from that population spread throughout the world. Support for Monophyletism comes from the discovery of “mitochondrial Eve,” the most recent common female human ancestor who lived in Africa about 143,000 years ago, as well as the “Y-chromosomal Adam,” the most recent common male human ancestor who lived in Africa about 60,000 years ago. Both individuals lived in East Africa, supporting monophyletism; at the same time, scientists could use the discovery as evidence for polygenism. As Dr Gareth Leyshon notes,

There may have been other women accompanying Mitochondrial Eve; their sons would breed with Eve’s daughters and produce offspring with Eve’s mitochondrial DNA. The other women would also produce daughters, but no humans alive today are descendents of these daughters down the purely female line. . . . And similarly, other men could have been around at the time of “Y Chromosome Adam”; any line of descent from them including a female would lose their Y chromosome. All we know for sure is that no direct male lines of sons survive from these fellow men.[x]

The genetic “Adam” and “Eve” are not the Biblical Adam and Eve. In fact, the genetic “Eve” might represent one individual of thousands sharing a similar genetic makeup, thereby lending credence to polygenism.[xi]

Polygenism’s disregard for God’s hand in creation has placed this theory at odds with many Christians. Those that oppose this theory usually cite the story of Creation in Genesis as a counterargument. There is a fear in some circles that a truth of science will somehow counter a truth of faith. The Catholic should hold no such fears, for, in the words of Bl. Pope John Paul II, “We know that the truth cannot contradict the truth.”[xii] Any truth of science compliments Theology, the Queen of Sciences. One should not fear comparing the theory of evolution to the Creation account, for in doing so the truth shines forth.

[i] Christopher T. Baglow, Faith, Science, and Reason: Theology on the Cutting Edge (Woodridge, IL: Midwest Theological Forum, 2009), 242–243.

[ii] Ibid., 251.

[iii] Ibid., 252.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Baglow, 252; Fiorenzo Facchini, “Man, Origin and Nature,” translated by Barbara Zanotti and Eva Bruno, available at http://www.disf.org/en/Voci/121.asp, accessed 7/7/11.

[vi] Jacqui Hayes, “DNA find deepens Neanderthal mystery,” Cosmos Online (16 November 2006), available at http://www.cosmosmagazine.com/news/853/dna-find-deepens-neanderthal-mystery, accessed 7/8/11. Humans and Chimpanzees differ by 30 to 50 million base pairs (Ibid.).

[vii] Paul Rincon, “Neanderthal genes ‘survive in us,’ BBC News (6 May 2010), available at http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8660940.stm, accessed 7/8/11.

[viii] Anthony Zimmerman, Evolution and the Sin of Eden: A New Christian Synthesis (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1998), 12.

[ix] Ervin Nemesszeghy and John Russell, Theology of Evolution, vol. 6, Theology Today, ed. Edward Yarnold (Notre Dame, IN: Fides Publishers, 1971), 52.

[x] Gareth Leyshon, “The Problem of Original Sin in an Evolutionary System,” (2011), available at www.drgareth.info/Polygenism.pdf, accessed 7/12/11.

[xi] Jozef Zycinski, God and Evolution: Fundamental Questions of Christian Evolutionism, trans. by Kenneth W. Kemp and Zuzanna Maslanka (Washington DC: CUA Press, 2006), 205.

[xii] John Paul II, “Message to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences: On Evolution” (Rome: 22 October 1996), available at http://www.ewtn.com/library/PAPALDOC/JP961022.HTM, accessed 7/8/11.

Back to School

2011-08-27T01:20:00.002-03:00

School starts up again next week. This week, however, marks the return of teachers. We worked in our classrooms, eager to see the new faces that will light up (hopefully not darken) the school with their joyous grins. Posters sprang against the walls, desks shifted into place, textbooks got counted and place in their proper place.

We are ready.

I'm teaching both Social Studies and Religion for the junior high (6th through 8th grade), as well as one section of 6th grade math. I'm excited.

I don't know about the students, but I am.

Hopefully there won't be terrible teacher stories, but you never know. Maybe I'll post HAPPY stories, for a change.

And the Seventh-Day Adventist student from whom I borrowed that book will be back, so maybe I can borrow her book again, and then finish the series.

I will also work on posting the rest of my paper discussing Human Origins.

THE DEBATE OVER HUMAN ORIGINS: Introduction

2011-08-22T01:02:00.004-03:00

This summer I completed the last class necessary for my MA in Theology from NDGS (I still need to take my comps and complete my Master's Thesis, which will be fodder for many blog posts, I'm sure). The class was, ironically, the first one in the curriculum: THEO 601 - God the Father. The course, to put it simply, covers the first part of the Apostles Creed (from "I Believe. . ." to "and Earth"); more specifically, the course covers, doctrine and dogma, Revelation, infallibility, the ad intra actions of God (basically how the Trinity works) and the ad extra actions of God (basically God and creation). The creation of the world and God's relationship with the created order formed a central part of the course. The creation of man holds an obvious place of honor in this discussion, and since I'm always interested in intersecting science and theology, I wanted to do something with creation and evolution. My professor suggested I examine the debate over human origins, namely between polygenism and monogenism. I liked the idea, and the more I research, the more obsessed I became with the topic. The result was my paper. I have decided to be merciful and have divided it into parts. That's right, you don't have to read all 15 pages in one sitting.

You can if you want. :D

We begin with an introduction. . .

Man has always pondered his origins. Once the study of philosophers and theologians, the question of human origins has in the last century become the study of scientists. Life on Earth, these scientists say, evolves, morphs, and adapts as needed. Humans are no different, and there remains an ongoing project among scientists of varying disciplines to trace the evolutionary pedigree of humanity. Standing against them are those who believe in a special creation of man as described in the Bible. At stake is nothing less than the sanctity of the human person. If man evolved from an animal, the reasoning goes, he is no different from other animals. On the other hand, if Genesis depicts man’s origins correctly, then man has a more elevated dignity, since God created him in his image and likeness. There have been many attempts over the last hundred years to explain human origins, resulting in the theory of polygenism, or the belief that man has a multitude of ancestors; its opposite is monogenism, or the belief that mankind stemmed from one original pair. Polygenists point to fossils to prove their theories. Monogenic supporters hold fast to the Bible and Catholic Tradition, the two streams of Revelation, and condemn polygenism. Can there be union? Is it possible for science and theology to agree on this matter? Upon examination, it is clear that polygenism, though often incorporating theology and science, is not only wrong but also gravely dangerous to Christian theology. At the same time, there is a way to reconcile monogenism and science, a theory that allows for special creation and evolution in the origins of man.

Warren H. Carroll

2011-08-05T00:10:00.004-03:00

This post should have been posted two weeks ago. It wasn't. But better late than never, I suppose.

One of my great heroes was a simple man, externally nothing spectacular. Yet he changed my life, and I am who I am today because of his influence. I am speaking of Dr. Warren H. Carroll, founder of Christendom College, which I attended for my undergraduate and graduate work. Carroll is best known for his historical books. Any Google search of his name will return infinite booksellers who offer to another customer some of the best works of historical scholarship in 20th century Catholicism.

He died on July 17. He was 79, survived by his wife Anne, also known for her works of history.

His legacy remains the alumni of Christendom and his works of history. Search his name, if you aren't familiar with him. Read his works, or read some articles you find by him, or articles about him.

He was a history maker in the truest sense of the word.

Barring some major setback, like a rejection by the academic board, I intend to write my dissertation on this great man and how he affected history.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me post this first.

Alumni of Christendom were asked to write some memories of Dr. Carroll, which would be included in a book for Mrs. Carroll. I took a crack at it, hoping it wouldn't come out too prideful, or too much about me. That was part of the problem with remembering Dr. Carroll. He would always deflect someone else as the center of attention.

But I'm getting sidetracked. Here's what I sent in as my memories.

I never had Dr. Carroll as a professor, but I still had him as a teacher. My Junior year saw Dr. Carroll's return to campus to give monthly lectures. I sat in the overcrowded Chapel Crypt with what seemed like most of campus, absorbing like sponges Dr. Carroll's account of Malta and its staunch defense against attackers, be they Turks or Nazis. He mentioned how he had hoped to write a history of Malta, even in his youth, but he never had a chance. He mentioned that he still wanted to write it, but that he was getting old and was unsure if he would be able to write the volume. He then charged the history majors in the room to do what he not might have time left to do. It was a jarring thought, a world without Dr. Carroll. I had just begun to know him, barely, in reading his works for school. I would know him a little better over the next year, but nowhere near the intimacy that others could claim. At the same time, Dr. Carroll made you feel like you were important, that he knew you well. This was all in the first moment of meeting him.

One of the features of Dr. Carroll lectures was his attendance at dinner immediately following the talk. He would sit at a table near the entrance and students would come and talk with him. Some would sit with him, conversing on anything. He would linger and talk and sign books when he was finished eating. His reaction to signing books wasn't a irritated "who do I make this out to" attitude. He would ask the person if they had read the book, did they like it, etc. He livened up when he signed his favorite book (The Guillotine and the Cross) and even made a sort of joke when I asked him to sign a copy of Seventy Years of the Communist Revolution (the Commie Rev book that was outdated). "You do know this is out of date," he said, smiling a little.

The greatest memory I have of Dr. Carroll was through the Teacher Apprentice Practicum. I did my Apprenticeship at Seton in Manassas, and had the honor of student teaching under Mrs. Carroll in her World History class. For the first few days, I would sit in the back of the room and observe Mrs. Carroll's teaching. It was in the morning, second or third period of the day. About five minutes into the class, in through the door came Dr. Carroll, carefully walking over to the arm chair set up in the front of the room, where he would sit during his wife's class. As Mrs. Carroll would lecture, he would call out "in the back left." I had no idea what he was saying; I soon found out he was telling Mrs. Carroll which students had questions. They were teaching as a team.

One day it was my turn to teach. Mrs. Carroll had given me the task of discussing Napoleon's Russian campaign. Dr. Carroll was still in his armchair when I came to the front of the classroom. There I stood, teaching high school students about a great military disaster with Dr. Carroll, who obviously knew more about the event then I will probably ever know. At the end of the class, he was happy, and commented that it was a good class. I nearly fell over.

Mrs. Carroll gave me three optional areas of history to teach. One was the history of Ireland from 1798 onward, and I jumped on it. Dr. Carroll seemed to enjoy the classes. A prime example was the class discussion of the 1798 Uprising, which involved, in true Christendom style, singing Irish war songs. At the end of that class, Dr. Carroll commented that we sang his favorite song, either "Rising of the Moon" or "Roddy McCorely," and commented, "Did you know I used to teach Irish history at Christendom?" I knew, and he smiled with a laugh, and said he enjoyed it.

The man was truly great. He was like a bulldog in his defense of truth and the Church.

I pray that Bl. John Paul II might present Dr. Carroll before Christ praising his work for the Church; that the heroes of History, whom he spent most of his life extolling, may swarm to him and greet him as one of their own; and that Christ will welcome him into Paradise with His words of praise reserved for a deserving servant.

Eternal Rest grant onto him, O Lord, and let perpetual Light shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen

Manassas

2011-07-25T11:59:00.004-03:00

Thursday, July 21, 2011 was the 150th anniversary of the First Battle of Bull Run (aka, the First Battle of Manassas). The battle marked the first large-scale battle of the Civil War. Last year, I posted a section from my history thesis concerning the Battle. This year, I would like to post a story I wrote in honor of the occasion. Its an ok story, but I hope it conveys the depth and seriousness of the battle.

Without further ado. . .

“Manassas”

Smoke clung to the earth, releasing its grip only when the stray soldier punctuated the shroud. The air screamed, echoing the screams of men dying, wrapped in darkness. Men who just two hours earlier joked about quick victory and “beating the Rebs” littered the ground. Few moved, either out of fear for or because of Death, whose anorexic head blinked here and there amongst the fallen men. His shadow darkened the sky.

I was there. I remember.

My leg was numb. I soon saw that it had been blown across the field, becoming its own casualty of war. Today I walk with a cane and a wooden leg, a reminder of that day, that ugly July day, when Hell and Heaven both stepped aside and let men regress to their inhuman roots.

I had joined the Army of the Union expecting a brief exchange of serious glances, without the accompanying violence. Yet violence reigned supreme back then. It still does. I may be old, but I’ve heard the news about the horrors in Europe, about those boys just killing to kill. I heard a rumor of a revolution in Russia, and that they burned Moscow to the ground. Maybe that was another story.

Moscow burning jumps into my mind when I think of violence. I remember a story my mom would tell me years ago. It involved that great Archbishop of New York. I remember he had that nickname: Dagger John. His enemies called him it first, but it became a sign of affection in my family. My little sister, when she was much younger, met the Archbishop after Mass one Sunday. She slipped on the wet cobblestones, and the Archbishop was there to catch her. She smiled at him and said, with out hesitation, “Thank you, Dagger John.” The Archbishop laughed, patter my sister on the head (she by now had realized what she had said and was blushing, making the Archbishop laugh even more), and went down the street. He glanced back once, as my mother was lecturing my sister on how to address bishops. We could hear his laugh echoing down the street, and my mother turned the same color as my sister. I laughed and my mother gave me a box on the ear.

That was not the story I wanted to tell. This story involves “Dagger John” and his stand against those Prodies who sought to pester us out of the city. The churches were burned. Children were not able to go to school without being insulted and mocked. Then Archbishop John gave a speech. Stop the violence, he said, or else New York would burn like Moscow. My mom did not understand what he meant, so I asked him one day. He said it was something about Napoleon. I do not recall exactly what he said, but he came alive as he described it, his eyes burning the same way Moscow did, I imagine, and he ended with a forceful “Sacred Heart of Jesus, Have Mercy!”

Nowadays, Moscow burns again.

Just like that field. How I wish I could forget. Yet at the same time I know I can’t.

As I said, I joined the Army expecting a quick finish to the war. My friends Colm, Dominic, and Daniel went with me to volunteer. Archbishop John stood outside, shaking our hands and patting us on our backs, thanking us for serving God and our country. The Army man explained to us what we already knew: New York would have an official brigade made up of Irish boys from the city. We wanted to join, and so we did. We ran home to tell our mothers. Colm’s mother cried, Dominic’s hit him, and Daniel’s smiled and hugged him.

My mother was silent. She looked at me for a moment, then went into her room.

I smelled whiskey on her that evening.

When we left the city to march south, there was a great parade. Everyone came out to send us off to the front. I kissed my mother and sister goodbye. Mother’s eyes were red with suppressed tears. I could tell. My sister could not control her eyes, and her face gleamed. Both gave half smiles as I kissed them, but I saw their fear. Then we all lined up and turned towards the Archbishop. He seemed tired, but he still stood smiling, his face alive with a faithful hope in us, in our brigade. Everyone had hope in us. We had hope in us. We were the sign of change, the sign that an Irish Catholic from the city was just as American as those Know-Nothing idiots.

As I laid on the bloodied field a couple months later, I saw that all that hope was gone, was worthless. And I wept, not for the fact that I was missing a leg, but because I had failed everyone. I had failed my family, the Archbishop, my friends, everyone.

I was failure.

Some dirt hit my face, the product of a wayward cannonball. I shut my eyes a second too late, and I felt the burning sting as some sort of dirt or another snuck into my eye. I tried rubbing it out, but that did nothing, so there I stayed, eyes closed, unsure of what else to do. I tried to remember what had happened that day. At first, all I could hear was guns and cannons; that, and screaming. Then I started to block out those sounds, and I found myself remembering the day’s events.

What day was it? Sunday? July 21. We had been to Mass that morning in the camp, the whole Brigade. We received Communion; the priest reminded us of how God would help us if we trusted in Him. I remember praying for my mother, knowing she was doing the same.

As soon as Mass was over, we heard the trumpet. It was the call we had longed to hear, and at the same time dreaded: to arms. “Fighting on a Sunday,” Daniel muttered, his thick accent making his comment almost unintelligible. I agreed, and we moved to where the troops gathered.

I remember how beautiful the morning was. The rising sun bathed the world in changing colors – pink, orange, and even a hint of red. One soldier mumbled about sailors, or something. Colm laughed at him. Colm’s father had been a fisherman from County Galway, or maybe Mayo. The story changed over the years. Once, when we were younger, we were joking about how Colm liked Mary Dubh, a girl who lived on the other side of the alley. “Don’t insult a Kerry man,” Colm retorted in the face of our jokes. “You’re from Galway or Mayo for sure,” Dominic jabbed, and the two began to fight, myself being a sort of referee.

The two of them stood there, with the other troops, not the boys we were ten years before. They had changed, maybe even became men. Their eyes were stoic, listening to the command. I never would have expected it from them, yet there they were, standing with fierce attentiveness. This was their life, or death, and they were determined to see it to the end.

I whispered an Ave, because I felt some dark prophecy that we would not see each other at the end of the day.

Meagher told us the generals’ plans. Meagher was a big hero among the men. He had fought in Ireland in ‘48, when O’Connell did his great work. He came here like my father, a fugitive from an English arrest warrant. Now he was in charge of our rugged band of nobodies, all dreaming of being somebodies. We knew what was at stake, not just for America, our mother, but for Ireland, our grandmother, as well. We had to win, not just this battle, but the whole war.

The battle plan went like so: the other Union regiments would be sent in first, attacking the main line of the Rebels. We were told to hold until the first wave fell back. We would then replenish the soldiers who retreated, would route the remaining Rebels, drive them back, and then chase them back to Richmond.

That was the plan.

That didn’t happen.

The Union army had shrunk even before the battle had begun. The campfire rumors had been true: enlisted men left when their time was up. They served their time, received their pay, and left. Some stayed. Most of us Irish stayed a little longer. There was just something about leaving a job unfinished that seemed unbearable. Wives waited for some, but they knew, you could tell, just how important it all was. Those who stayed did so with honor and pride. I myself knew a man, not Irish, who stayed after his term was finished. His name was Archibald Jefferson, a Prodie, but a good Prodie, the kind that would not hate someone based on your Catholicity. We talked about home, and he talked about his wife, Rebekah. She is the greatest woman in the world, he would repeat. He wrote letters talking about everything in the camp, from marching to eating to sleeping. I know because he let me read over one. He kept a bundle of them folded together in his pack, which he kept with him at all times. He feared death if he lost the letters. We laughed and sang together, and when his time of service ended, he shocked everyone by not returning home. When I asked him, he looked at me, a sly twinkle in his eye, and responded with a sentiment I have not yet forgotten: If you love your wife, you love your country. You fight for both.

It was not the most compelling sentiment, to be sure, but I have remembered it now for over fifty years.

He died that day, fighting with us. His regiment had failed, and he crossed over to help ours. He saw our flag had fallen, and he picked it up, and then dropped again. A bullet had burst his heart.

I remembered him at the Requiem Mass.

We stood that day, awaiting the start of the battle. The first shots happened soon after we had heard Magher’s orders. Down the field from where we waited, smoke filled the plain, and soon it floated over to our position. We could no longer see the battle, but we could hear it fine. Our cannons would fire, then the Rebels would respond in kind. At first we waited wearing our packs and coats, but as the day wore on, we got warm in the July heat, and tossed the coats aside.

The messenger came unexpectedly. He was a drummer, one of the young aides to one of the generals. He told us to move out; the plan had failed. We were no longer the second wave. We were the emergency reinforcements. We grabbed our guns and charged. It was only after we charged that I realized we were missing our packs and coats.

We’ll get them when we get back, I thought then.

As we charged, I glanced to the higher hills that flanked the plain. Earlier that day, the hillside had been filled with civilians who came to watch the battle, as one pretty girl giggled to Dominic. He joked with the girl about the battle and about he would wave to her as he killed a Reb, and I felt a sick feeling. War was not a playhouse affair. This girl came to watch death rape the battlefield, all while enjoying her delicate lunch.

It still disgusts me.

Onward we charged. Bullets stung the air. Men dropped around me. There was a horrible thickness in the air, suffocating our movements. At one point, I tripped over a body, or rather, part of a body. It was some poor soul’s torso; the rest was gone. I saw Dominic to my left. He dropped to the ground, followed by an explosion from canon fire. I ran over to him, terrified that I would find him another lifeless corpse. I was relived to find him alive. He pulled me down next to him, behind a make-shift wall built of human remains.

“I’ll outlast the battle here,” he shouted, the only way to communicate when gunpowder starts exploding. I mentioned cannons, but he waved me off. I angled right, but then flew down. I didn’t realize at first what had happened. A cannonball had landed just to the left of Dominic. The earth sprayed, and Dominic joined the company of his building materials. I never found his body.

Forward, cried Meagher. He stood on the ground, his horse a mound of flesh behind him. His saber cut through the smoke, somehow finding the last glimmer of sunlight in the midst of the hellish battle. His blade flashed, and his shouts for Ireland and Victory sounded clear above the cannon fire. I ran towards him, as did many others. We fell back, regrouped with more of the Brigade, and charged again as one. Few of us remained, none of us sporting the eager smiles that danced on our faces earlier that day.

Ahead! Ahead! We charged towards the Rebel line, meeting their forces at full speed. Down fell our flag bearer. For a moment, a panicked confusion grasped my chest. Then, as if in a dream, the flag reappeared. It was Jefferson, who had made it over to the fallen colors and was now hoisting them into the air. He shouted something about the Irish and their Church, and charged towards the Rebels. He too fell, a bullet piercing his chest.

He too clung in my mind during the Requiem Mass.

Am I repeating? Oh well. Some things bear repeating.

We fought on the same way, first charging, then falling back, then regrouping and charging again. I myself took out my fair share of men. It is an unsettling feeling to kill a man. I have never known a worse condition. At first, I felt nothing. My first kill fell a good distance from me. I never saw his face. I shot two more from that same range. Then two came, side by side. One fired, then affixed his bayonet. The other raised his gun to shoot. I shot him first. The other paused a second or two, realizing his friend had fallen. I charged. He turned, saw me, and likewise charged. I somehow deflected his weapon, then hit him with the butt of my rifle. His body sank, and almost without thinking I stabbed my own bayonet into his chest. His eyes rolled in their sockets, and he shook a couple of times. I stabbed again, and he moved no more. It was as if the battle had stopped. I looked down at the soldier and saw a man my own age. I heard shouts for retreat, along with the accompanying bugle call. I turned and ran back, running away from what I had done.

Then I fell, tripped again over a body. It was Jefferson, his face pale, his body soaked in its own blood. His hand was on the pocket where he kept his letters. They were still there. I slipped them into my own pocket. I heard the whistling sound; then there was silence.

Then I awoke.

I was on my back. My leg was gone, as I mentioned earlier, and I could see very little. The screams and gun shots were further away, and I suddenly felt very alone. I touched my pocket, satisfied with the presence of Jefferson’s letters, and tried to sit up. I couldn’t. The explosions continued for what seemed like hours. I heard someone shout my name. Turning, I saw Daniel running towards me.

“Oh God,” he said when he saw me. Daniel never spoke like that, and I felt a wave of terror ripple through me. He heaved me up, leaning on his shoulders. It felt like fire ignited beneath my skin.

“What happened,” I gasped.

Daniel dragged me along, grunting as he went. “We lost,” came the punctuated answer. There would be no discussing that topic today.

We made it to a dejected camp of haggard men, shells of the fine soldiers who stood and fought earlier. Here were the survivors. Here were the poor souls thrown into war, but neither Mars nor Hades wanted them. Here were the warriors who fought like heroes from Norse legends, but the valkyries rejected them. They were rejects, broken and shivering. Evening started to sneak in as the bloody-red sun slipped away, as if the sun was ashamed at what he seen.

The doctor, or what passed for a doctor in a camp, looked at my leg. “Lucky lad,” he said. “Lucky you ain’t dead,” he said, cleaning the stub that once formed my left leg. “Peg leg,” he snorted. “Should limp around alright.”

I didn’t thank him.

We sat in the camp; more men came, some bringing more wounded, others wounded themselves. A general came and thanked us for our bravery. It made us feel a little better. Melancholy suffocated us. We needed to breathe. Some tried singing, but each song fizzled out at the end.

Daniel sat quietly alone. I moved over to him.

“They’re gone,” he said without looking over at me. I didn’t ask who he meant. I knew. We sat, just us, wanting to scream, neither of us speaking.

Then came the chaplain. He was wearing black vestments, the most perfect, pristine vestments I have ever seen. They weren’t flashy or exaggerated, nor were they ugly and unsophisticated. The priest set up a little altar, his back towards the setting sun. Men walked over, most limping. One came carried on a stretcher, his mouth moving without sound. The sky bathed us in warm colors. Sweat clung to our faces. Daniel and I made our way over to the impromptu congregation. The priest turned and looked at his flock, then turned back to his altar, inhaled deeply, and began chanting the Introit for the dead. I closed my eyes, and prayed for all of them, for Jefferson, for Colm and Dominic, for all of the boys who died that day.

I whispered the prayers, hoping for life, hoping and praying.

Years later, I went back to the field. Between the day of the battle and the day of my return, much had happened. I had watched Jefferson’s wife weep when I gave her the letters. I saw the end of the war. I was working in New York when the riots happened, and I saw “Dagger John” give one last speech. I saw fear and pain, love and hate, more than any man should have seen in a lifetime twice the length of mine.

I am old now, and I know I have little time left to me. My prayer now, crippled in my old age, is one of sorrow for my sins, relief in virtue, and happiness in hope for the hereafter. My prayer is simple: that Jefferson, Dominic, Colm, Daniel, and I might chat again, like we did the Saturday before the battle, when we laughed at the thought of death.

I went back to the battle field. I looked out at the grass, the trees, the dirt. I felt dead again. I felt the loss I hadn’t felt since that day. I felt empty, and yet at the same time, I felt completeness. I know that, if I die tonight, after telling you this story, that it will be the end of another story, one more grand and beautiful than any I could ever tell, and at the same time it would start another story, one brighter and more alive than any I have ever lived.

But now I’m tired, and need to sleep. We can talk in the morning.

Memorial Day 2011

2011-05-30T18:34:00.002-03:00

In honor of Memorial Day, when we celebrate those brave men and women who have gone before us and died for our country. Many have done this, from all walks of life. Rich and poor, whatever their nationality, whatever their religion. It is a day to honor sacrifice, to recognize triumph.

Is it wrong that I turn now to an Irish poem?

The Irish have this inherent ability to capture emotions in ways one never thought possible. If anyone has captured the phenomenon of heroic patriotism, it is the Irish. One could easily spend a year reading Irish poems, stories, and songs that praise Irish patriots and patriotism.

Don't worry. I won't do that.

Yet.

Today I just want to share a poem with you, one that captures Patriotism. Grant it, the poem deals with Irish Patriotism, namely the 1798 Uprising, but it still captures the sentiment of Patriotism throughout the world, especially in America.

Lest we forget. . .

“The Memory of the Dead” (1843)

- John Kells Ingram

Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?

Who blushes at the name?

When cowards mock the patriot's fate

Who hangs his head for shame?

He's all a knave, or half a slave,

Who slights his country thus;

But a true man, like you, man,

Will fill your glass with us.

We drink the memory of the brave,

The faithful and the few:

Some lie far off beyond the wave,

Some sleep in Ireland, too;

All, all are gone; but still lives on

The fame of those who died;

All true men, like you, men,

Remember them with pride.

Some on the shores of distant lands

Their weary hearts have laid,

And by the stranger's heedless hands

Their lonely graves were made;

But, though their clay be far away

Beyond the Atlantic foam,

In true men, like you, men,

Their spirit's still at home.

The dust of some is Irish earth,

Among their own they rest,

And the same land that gave them birth

Has caught them to her breast;

And we will pray that from their clay

Full many a race may start

Of true men, like you, men,

To act as brave a part.

They rose in dark and evil days

To right their native land;

They kindled here a living blaze

That nothing shall withstand.

Alas! that Might can vanquish Right-

They fell and passed away;

But true men, like you men,

Are plenty here today.

Then here's their memory-may it be

For us a guiding light,

To cheer our strife for liberty,

And teach us to unite-

Through good and ill, be Ireland's still,

Though sad as theirs your fate,

And true men be you, men,

Like those of Ninety-Eight.

Easter

2011-04-26T19:29:00.003-03:00

It's Easter.

I'm on break.

I REALLY needed this break.

You would think I would have time this break to write a couple of good posts for the blog. Right?

hahahaha

WRONG

Paper. I'm working a paper for my grad school class. Its about the French Revolution's effect on the Church both French and Universal. Maybe I'll post it later.

Just keep breathing.

Sadness

2011-03-13T15:51:00.003-03:00

So much sadness in the world, in friends and strangers. All must have heard by now of the earthquakes and tsunamis affecting the Far East, a land so alien to myself and most of the people I know that it sounds almost like a fairy tale.

Tell us, Grandad, about the magical land of Japan. Tell us about the mythical monster they call Tsunami, and how it attacked the world, and how Japan fell in battle against the monster, and had to turn to aid from strangers. It is a pleasant fantasy.

And then Grandad sighs a tear, and knows it isn't all false.

Likewise, on a more local level, stories come of personal losses. Not from my family, thank God (say a prayer for your family NOW. Stop reading and pray. . .), but for some friends. I could not begin to articulate their sorrow, and neither can they. Fortunately for us, they made an effort. I will not. I will simply show what has been said before. Pray for Dave and Stephanie, even if they too are strangers. There is tangible sorrow in their story, muted by the impossibility of describing death.

And thus begins Lent. How strange! Lent is a time not of sadness but of joy. And yet here, on the brink, the world wastes in sorrow. What horrors await us as Satan tests us, as he tested Him who cannot loose. Satan should have known who it was that prayed for 40 days in the desert. Did he think the God-Man would be so easy? Putting God to the test is a risky matter, for you will always loose. Satan did not learn his lesson.

"Satan Tried to Tempt Christ" by James Tissot

Thank God He didn't jump, he didn't eat the doughy rocks, or burn a pinch of incense to the Evil One.

But we do. How often we jump! How easily we succumb to the test, hiding our faith, yelling at God for the badness around us. We either blame God for evil, or simply say he doesn't exist.

Yet another man suffered much worse than anyone I know. Find a Bible. Any one will do. Flip to the first book in the Wisdom section, and read that wonderful work of Job. Read it in prayer, and see for yourselves what the good man should do. Job did not curse God, but rather saw a deeper meaning. In sadness and sorrow he sought reality.

His prayer is beautiful, one which we should utter whenever good times turn bad, whenever sadness slithers into our garden.

Then Job arose, and rent his robe, and shaved his head, and fell upon the ground, and worshiped. And he said,
"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD." (Job 1:20 - 22)

Job does not merely say this prayer once, but he treats it as a refrain through is sufferings. The sacred writer makes a point of noting that "In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrong" (Job 1:23). What Faith! What Love!

If we were half the men that Job was, what a world we would see.

What a world, what a world.

Sadness wins when we let it drown us. Only by seeing it for what it really is can we pray with Job. Only then can we say with Christ "Begone, Satan!" to the devils of sin and sadness.

Beliefs of An Adventist Part 4

2011-02-22T21:12:00.000-04:00

We continue our examination of Seventh-Day Adventists’ Beliefs with the third Fundamental Belief, which is as follows:

God the eternal Father is the Creator, Source, Sustainer, and Sovereign of all creation. He is just and holy, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. The qualities and powers exhibited in the Son and the Holy Spirit are also revelations of the Father.

We have in this Belief the explanation of God the Father. This is a basic belief not only of Christianity but of Judaism as well (Islam never really jumped onto the “God the loving Father” bandwagon). God the Father is the first person in the Holy Trinity. Seventh Day Adventists, like all Christians, have no problem admitting this truth. In fact, for most of the Adventist explanation of this Belief, found in Seventh-Day Adventists Believe, are the same beliefs as found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The first sign of something wrong comes when the book examines how Jesus reveals the Father. In that section, Seventh-Day Adventists Believe notes the following:

In creating, the Father and the Son acted together. God gave us life in spite of knowing that doing so would lead to the death of His own Son.

At Bethlehem, He gave Himself as He gave His Son. What pain the Father experienced when His Son entered our sin-polluted planet! Imagine the Father’s feeling as He saw His Son exchange the love and adoration of angels for the hatred of sinners; the glory and bliss of heaven for the pathway of death.

But it is Calvary that gives us the deepest insight into the Father. The Father, being divine, suffered the pain of being separated from His Son–in life and death–more acutely than any human being ever could. And He suffered with Christ in like measure. What greater testimony about the Father could be given! The cross reveals–as nothing else can–the truth about the Father. (p. 33-34. Emphasis added)

Did the Father really suffer from the Incarnation? Can God the Father SUFFER? No. God cannot suffer. He is impassable (which is a fancy way of saying he can’t suffer). There are scriptural references to such an attribute of God. For example, one here’s Jesus exhorting his disciples, “be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt. 5:48). Likewise, the Church has always taught that God does not suffer. He does not feel pain. To do so would imply imperfection, and God is perfect. So no pain, no suffering, no sadness, no anger. None. Sure, we talk about the “wrath of God,” but that is mere anthropomorphism (using human words to describe something un-human, such as “running water”). Likewise, God the Father wouldn’t have experienced “pain” upon the Son entering “our sin-polluted planet.” Not only was it GOD (the unity of the three persons) that thought up the Incarnation, but he KNEW what would happen if He became incarnate. The wording of Seventh-Day Adventists Believe seems to imply that one or all of the persons in the Holy Trinity did not completely understand, or was surprised by, the human world. I could understand someone claiming a lack of knowledge in the man Jesus of Nazareth (that’s a whopper discussion for another day), but not God omnipotent. Such an erroneous understanding of Divine foreknowledge is not healthy, and it certainly places a huge imaginary limit on the awesome power of God.

But there’s another problem. In the last paragraph quoted, it claims that God the Father “suffered the pain of being separated from His Son–in life and death–more acutely than any human being ever could.” The Father and the Son were never truly separated. God didn’t divide like a cell at the moment of the Incarnation, so some of Him lived on Earth and the rest hung out in heaven. He doesn’t work that way. GOD, the great divinity, fully dwelt among us AND retained his divinity. The second person, the Son, was the person through which God became incarnate, but that doesn’t mean that God the Father and the Son were separated, somehow, similar to the way a child is kidnapped and his dad hunts for him and hopes for his return. It humanizes too much the Divine Nature in explaining the Incarnation. It doesn’t work. God stops being God, and settles into the rut of everyday humanity.

Everyday humanity is not a pleasant life for divinities. Ask the Greek gods, if you can find them.

Even though at first glance it seems that the Adventist share traditional beliefs concerning God the Father, it turns out that they have a very (very) problematic view of divine impassability. Bring this point up in discussion with Adventists. See if it breeds fruitful dialogue.

And onward we move, to see the Adventist treatment of the Second Person of the Trinity: the Son.

Beliefs of An Adventist Part 3

2011-01-27T18:45:00.001-04:00

We continue our examination of Seventh-Day Adventists’ Beliefs with the second Fundamental Belief, which is as follows:

There is one God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, a unity of three co-eternal Persons. God is immortal, all-powerful, all-knowing, above all, and ever present. He is infinite and beyond human comprehension, yet known through His self-revelation. He is forever worthy of worship, adoration, and service by the whole creation.

I’ll begin our examination of this doctrine with a reference back to the first one, concerning Scripture. As mentioned before, Seventh-Day Adventists, like most Protestant religions, hold to a Sola Scriptura (Scripture Alone) theology, in that Scripture is the only true form of Revelation. This does not leave any room for a Magisterium and Tradition, as they are not part of Scripture. This becomes clearer in the discussion of the Second Doctrine (which deals with the nature of God) found in Seventh-Day Adventists Believe. The discussion states the following:

The way we learn to know God from the Bible differs from all other methods of acquiring knowledge. We cannot place ourselves above God and treat Him as an object to be analyzed and quantified. In our search for a knowledge of God we must submit to the authority of His self revelation – the Bible. Since the Bible is its own interpreter, we must subject ourselves to the principles and methods it provides. Without these Biblical guidelines we cannot know God. (p. 18; emphasis added)

This passage places all of the Adventist beliefs in a striking light. If the Bible is its own interpreter, then all men who read the Bible should come to the same conclusion. Everyone would then interpret, for example, Matt. 16 in the same way the Church interprets it. As anyone with half a brain can see, this is not always the case. In fact, this is tragically not the case. The world is divided into a plethora of Christian faiths because men cannot interpret the Bible simply by reading it.

This brings up the next line I highlighted in that quote, namely “Without these Biblical guidelines we cannot know God.” Looking at the declared doctrine, one sees Sola Scriptura at play, particular in the line “He [God] is infinite and beyond human comprehension, yet known through His self-revelation.” Again the belief is that through reading the Bible one comes to a clear understanding of who God is. There is no need for any other help. However, as Seventh-Day Adventists Believe states, “The Bible does not prove God’s existence. It assumes it” (p. 19). In order for one to prove God exists, especially to one who doubts the authenticity of the Scripture, one must turn to reason, to philosophy. This is why St. Thomas Aquinas placed belief in God’s existence as outside the realm of strict theology. One can believe God exists through Faith, but proof of God’s existence must come through observing the natural world. One sees this in the “Intelligent Design vs. Evolution” debate. A scientist who rejects religion in favor of scientific evolution (a dangerous road to follow, since uniting both understandings of our origins holds the strongest support) will not believe in God simply because the Bible says He exists. The scientist needs empirical proof, proof that is extra-Biblical. Seventh-Day Adventists Believe attempts to prove God’s existence by the presence of mystery cults to an Unknown Deity in Greek mythology, as cited in Acts 17. Any scientist seeking to disprove God would dismiss such evidence as proof of the same delusion infecting Mankind since the dawn of time. This skeptic (in the worst form of the word) needs something more than connects derived through St. Paul. He needs proof, proof which the Adventists superlative use of Scripture does not consider valid. Thus the two sides reach an impasse, and we must move on to examine who God is, exactly.

This doctrine concerning God, like the one concerning Scripture discussed earlier, mostly makes sense, especially where it states how God as “immortal, all-powerful, all-knowing, above all, and ever present.” Such are typical descriptions of God found throughout Scripture. God is a personal God, one who loves us and seeks our love. He is life itself, eternal, etc. This is all legitimate, orthodox teaching.

The writers of Seventh-Day Adventists Believe bring up an interesting point: the relationship of God with predestination. Such terminology is found in the letters of St. Paul, and due to the strict scriptural nature of the religion, it is no surprise that predestination arises in Adventist theology. Yet the use of predestination in Adventism is surprising. They wisely reject the Calvinist approach whereby man is either saved or damned through the arbitrary will of God. Rather, the Adventists hold a strikingly Catholic understanding of Paul’s use of predestination, namely that God knows, from all eternity, what man will do. Yet God does not force us to do anything. The writers of Seventh-Day Adventists Believe use two examples to develop this point. First they reference a historian, who looks at the past without effecting it. He knows what happened, but has no power over it. Secondly, the writers put forward the example of a camera, which watches a scene, understanding what happens, but does not change it.

From there the writers of Seventh-Day Adventists Believe present the Adventist understanding of the Divine Oneness, that God is One, with three persons. They explain the truth well, yet one wonders if they realize from where this clear formulation comes. The writers explain that, “While the Godhead is not one in person, God is one in purpose, mind, and character. This oneness does not obliterate the distinct personalities of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit” (23). They say elsewhere, “the Incarnation beautifully demonstrated the working relationship of the three persons” (24). Such wording is reminiscent of the wording used in the early Ecumenical Councils of the Church (namely Nicea I, Constantinople I, and Calcedon), though Adventists do not accept the authority of such councils. Perhaps some Catholic theology seeped into the Adventist theology by mistake, a chemical leak in the water purifier, thus allowing a conversion of Adventist water into the sweet wine of the Church.

Does such Catholic Tradition find itself in other aspects of Adventist theology? We’ll have to find out next time, as we examine in detail the Adventist belief concerning the first person of the Holy Trinity: God the Father.

HIST 610 Test Essay - The Fourth Crusade

2011-01-18T22:35:00.003-04:00

In an effort to keep a steady supply of blog posts (at least for now), I will be posting several essays from my HIST classes' tests. As mentioned earlier, I am working on getting a MA in Systematic Theology from NDGS. It is a challenge, to be sure, but I am proud to announce that I have, as of now, a 3.8 GPA at the school, the highest GPA I have ever had. I'm pretty excited.

So yes. Below is the first of the test questions I will post. It is from my final for my HIST 610 class (Church History I). I don't remember the exact question, but I think you can figure out what it asked.

The Fourth Crusade was one of the most embarrassing moments in Church history. The crusading army, rather than attacking the Muslims in the Holy Land, instead attacked two Christian cities: Zara and Constantinople. Who is at fault? It disaster was more the fault of men’s pride and greed than the Church, as the events of the crusade show.

The Fourth Crusade was called by Innocent III at the end of the 12^th century. The failure of the Third Crusade left the Holy Land in the hands of the Muslims, and the pope hoped for the success of the First Crusade. He called together men to fight the Muslims, and a war council met, deciding to attack the Holy Land by sea, rather than by land. The easiest place to get ships was Venice, and so the crusaders enlisted the help of the Venetian Doge (Duke) Enrico Dondalo. The crusaders ordered a huge amount of ships, and Dondalo promised the product. When the time came to launch the expedition, the Venetians had the ships, but the crusaders didn’t have the money, nor the manpower to sail the ships. Venice had spent most of its wealth in making these ships for the crusade, and the city needed some recompense. Dondalo made a deal. If the crusaders would attack the city of Zara, which was once under Venetian control, then he would forgive them the money owed for the ships. The leaders of the crusade agreed (with a few notable exceptions, such as Simon de Montfort) and headed for the city. The pope, upon hearing of this, immediately condemned such action, pronouncing excommunication on those who would attack a Christian city while on crusade (it didn’t help that Zara was owned by the King of Hungry who was also crusading at that time, though not with the Venetian crusaders. Attacking the land of a crusader carried with it an automatic excommunication). But the crusaders attacked anyway, taking the city, relieving their debts. The normal men were excited to head out to take the Holy Land

Then a visitor came to the camp. He was Alexius Angelus, prince of Byzantium, and he wanted the crusaders’ help in retaking Constantinople from his uncle, Alexius III, who had taken the throne from his father, Isaac II. He promised great wealth and men for the crusade, assuring the crusaders that the people of the city would welcome him, that the coup would be easy, and that he himself would provide for their every need. This sounded great, so the crusaders followed Alexius to Constantinople. Pope Innocent was, again, furious and again excommunicated anyone involved in attacking Constantinople. The crusaders, for the most part, ignored the pope and headed towards Byzantium.

When they arrived, they were met not with cheers from the city’s inhabitants but with garbage (apparently Alexius didn’t have the fan base he claimed he had). The crusaders took the city, an easy feat considering that Uncle Alexius III had fled with the empire’s treasury. Alexius Angelus promised the crusaders wealth; instead, he gave them almost half of what he promised. The result was the destruction of holy items and relics in a frantic attempt to pay back the crusaders. Then, due to popular unrest, Alexius Angelus (now called Alexius IV) is killed by his sergeant, who takes the name Alexius V. The empire is now in the hands of an enemy of the crusaders’ ally (the now deceased Alexius IV), and the crusaders decide to attack the city. They do so, sacking Constantinople in 1204. Easterners remember the year and hate the West because of it.

But was the Church to blame? It seems not, since the pope and his bishops tried in vain to prevent the atrocities. When the crusaders returned they found themselves excommunicated. Would the Church have carried out such a punishment if she had supported the sack? Of course not. If anything, the Church should receive blame for poor management, since the Fourth Crusade got so out of control.

10 most stressful jobs

2011-01-11T20:36:00.003-04:00

I heard once that teaching is one of the most stressful jobs in America, up there with SWAT people and EMTs. That makes sense to me, since students can be a real pain in the butt. So I decided to look up a list of the most stressful jobs in America. I originally wanted to compare different lists, but they all kept referencing the one from CNBC. I figured it would work. So here they are, the 10 most stressful jobs in America, with a little bit about why they are so stressful.

10. Real Estate Agent – Its not just about location, location, location. Real Estate Agents have to deal with not only the annoying home buyers, who can be particularly annoying if they don’t know what the heck they are talking about, but also other agents, who might sneak in and steal a buy. It’s a highly competitive field, with varied hours and other fun things to make it stressful.

9. Advertising Executive – Highly competitive, long hours, and a high risk at loosing your job if you mess up makes this one pretty stressful. Its not just about sitting behind your desk and thinking of slogans. Its like working for the Red Queen from Alice in Wonderland: You mess up, you loose your head, except by head we mean your job. Bosses aren’t that evil. . .

8. Public Relations Officer – Not only do you have to deal with the maddening crowd of people who want to kill you, you also have to deal with the media, who wants to strip you naked and take your picture. Your hours are pretty set, but you might still work long hours, trying to tie up loose ends. Plus you could mess up and ruin a company.

7. Highway Patrol Officer – You know all those movies/shows where the cop pulls over some guy, who then blows the cop’s head off with a shotgun? That’s a real threat to these roadway men in blue/brown. They might be annoying when they pull you over for speeding, but they are putting their lives on the line each time they pull onto the freeway. Crazy hours, plus limited weekends and holidays, make for a nasty stress cocktail.

6. Commercial Pilot – Least of his worries is crashing the plane. If he goes down in a fiery blast, he won’t be alive to worry about the people complaining about uncomfortable seats, delays, terrorists, etc. If he survives, he’ll probably be sued for something. Yeah, being a pilot isn’t fun. Plus the hours are hell.

5. Police Officers – This one goes without saying. Any job that involves running after crazy people, getting shot/shot at, or just dealing with all the things cops deal with deserves a place on this list. It’s a dirty, rotten job, but somebody’s got to do it.

4. Surgeon – As any episode of House, ER, or Grey’s Anatomy shows, Surgeons have much more to worry about than not killing their patients. Having to run into the operating room in an emergency, in the middle of the night is hard enough, but when millimeters divide life and death, the pressure is on. Plus, if you mess up, that’s it. You’ll be sued faster than, well, it’ll be pretty fast.

3. Taxi Driver – You talkin’ to me? I drive around all day picking up sketchy businessmen and you’re talking to me? I risk my a** all day driving in a city with more crack heads than chalk to feed their addictions. I’m like a rolling ATM for those guys. Plus I drive around on the nights, weekends, holidays. And half the guys then are wasted like trash. There’s no one else here, you must be talkin’ to me.

2. Corporate Executive – Long hours, enormous pressure to succeed or leave, and the fact that, again, if you mess up the whole company goes down. Think all the pressure from Wall Street, but just in a company. Again, not that fun.

1. Firefighter – No duh. I’m pretty sure if firefighter wasn’t at the top of this list, it would be rejected by pretty much everyone. Firefighters jump into burning building for crying out-loud. People die when they mess up. Not loose their jobs. Die. That’s pretty darn stressful. Add onto that risk of life and limb to themselves and everyone they work with. And if they don’t put out the fire, well, there goes the neighborhood. Plus having to be on-call constantly is pretty stressful too.

So that’s the list. No teachers. L Oh well. Maybe we’re number 11. Or not. Maybe the stress is just imaginary. Just like the excuses for why the students don’t have their homework.

Beliefs of An Adventist Part 2

2011-01-09T16:38:00.000-04:00

We begin our examination of the Seventh-Day Adventist beliefs with the first Fundamental Doctrine, which is as follows:

The Holy Scriptures, Old and New Testaments, are the written Word of God, given by divine inspiration through holy men of God who spoke and wrote as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. In this Word, God has committed to man the knowledge necessary for salvation. The Holy Scriptures are the infallible revelation of His will. They are the standard of character, the test of experience, the authoritative revealer of doctrines, and the trustworthy record of God's acts in history.

At first glance, there is nothing wrong with this statement. Indeed, all Catholic should agree with the heart of the statement, namely that the Scriptures are both Human and Divine, the Word of God through human words, phrases, cultural circumstances, etc. Most aggravating about the Scriptures is that they are what God chose to reveal to us, not what we necessarily want to know. Scripture is what we need, not always what we want. How many of us wish for an account of Jesus’ life between his birth and his public ministry (minus the crucial passage concerning His finding in the Temple)? There would be no debate over creation and evolution if Genesis was more exact. God did not see such details as necessary for salvation. There will always be debate over the particulars, and yet we still have the Scriptures, the Divine Revelation of God. Revelation ceased with the death of the last Apostle (John the Evangelist). On this point, Catholics, Seventh-Day Adventists, and all Christians for that matter, agree.

From there, however, one notices a troubling line in the Adventist Belief, particularly in light of their other beliefs, concerning the Scriptures, as noted in the closing sentences: “The Holy Scriptures are the infallible revelation of His will. They are the standard of character, the test of experience, the authoritative revealer of doctrines, and the trustworthy record of God's acts in history.” Adventists, like most Protestant groups, hold that Scripture is the sole source of Revelation. They do not provide a place for any sort of Magisterium, or even Sacred Tradition. Why go through an interpreter, the belief goes, when you have the original before you? All one needs to do is read. The Fathers of the Church and the Magisterium might give interesting insights into some passages, but that does not mean God somehow safeguards their teachings. One needs only oneself to understand the Bible. This approach, unfortunately, is extremely dangerous. If there isn’t a set authority who says what is and isn’t a legitimate interpretation of Scripture, then erroneous and contradictory interpretations result. One might hold one belief about the story of the Good Samaritan that is the polar opposite of someone else’s belief; the two beliefs contradict, yet are both held as correct. Can such a scenario be true? No. It is similar to saying that something is both alive and dead, sinful yet sanctifying. Worse, such an understanding does not provide for correction. A man could persist in his problematic understanding of the Good Samaritan without any correction or redirection.

Yet at its core, the first belief of the Adventists is orthodox, compatible with the Church. On the importance and centrality of Divine Revelation we both agree. From this firm ground, we depart into deeper, more controversial facets of Adventist theology, namely their doctrinal beliefs about God. As we will see in the next few parts of this series, the Adventists devote four fundamental doctrines to God and the Trinity, each based solely on interpreting the Scriptures. Whether it is a correct interpretation will be discussed in the next part of this series.

Epiphany poem

2011-01-06T21:42:00.004-04:00

As a follow up to my Advent/Christmas poems, I have composed a poem in honor of today's feast (traditionally) of the Epiphany. Below is the text of the poem. It's no T. S. Eliot, but I'm proud of it.

Comments are welcome.

“Three Wise Men”

Caspar

My body aches from this long journey,

And yet, though tired, I see the light.

Ahead, I tell them, and on we ride,

Chasing a dream through dim-lit night.

South, they said, from the capital city,

On we ride. Where to tonight?

Beth-something, he had said.

I hope my gold is worth enough.

I hope my gilded gift gives grace enough.

I hope He grows in strength enough.

Enough to rule, enough to guide,

With wiser men then me beside

His throne, his holy pedestal.

He’ll rule for sure,

O’er rich and poor.

He’ll rule for sure

Someday soon.

For now here sits His royal treasure,

His future glory etern’ly sure.

Balthazar

It smells so sweet, my hanging bag,

The scent of incense wafting up,

Like Heaven swinging by my side.

I hope that Heaven accepts its prize.

This king, this Lord, it is of Him,

The one I read of, the one I sung of,

The one for whom we longed for years.

And now we journey towards time stood still

To stop

To come to a castle grand,

Standing strong through shifting sign.

God Himself! Lord! Amen!

The King of Kings! And here we come,

A cave refined, a sanctuary of God.

I bring for you, sweet Lord, sweet scent for prayer,

That thoughts and hopes might fill sweet air.

He smiles, He smirks, He kingly grins.

Now Heaven’s earthbound reign begins.

Melchior

I know Him who has come to die.

Life to bring, death to wring

Out of any moisture,

Any blood, any water.

I felt He needed this gift of sorrow,

For who knows what will come tomorrow.

Will His life be filled with joy?

Or will that life be Satan’s soft toy,

To rip, to tear, to eat alive.

Death from life, Life to die.

So myrrh I bring, a gift so solemn,

For such a joyful happy occasion.

Yet I know to bring it, with faith I do so,

For death will die at this one’s command.

If He is He who we have sought,

Then any foul word will be for naught,

And any foul deed will be as air,

Nothing at all, no structure, nothing.

I come to a baby, an infant king,

I leave, no normal king, for sure,

No sir. It’s He who came

for all who live,

For all who lived,

And all who shall;

I give my morbid gift to Him,

Perhaps, of course, regarding them all,

A useless gift, worthless, small.

If He accepts what I bring for Him,

Then all is not for naught again,

Then all is light and joy and cheer,

Then all is kingdom, glory,

Power and blessing, honorable singing,

Prayers rejoicing, echoing through

A land recalled by men so few.

This babe, as man, likewise ignored,

And myrrh he’ll need,

For what’s in store.

Cardinals, Congregations, and Pontifical Councils

2010-12-29T14:52:00.001-04:00

Recently, the Holy Father elevated several men to the rank of Cardinal. This is a privilege and a great responsibility, for being incardinated isn’t just a symbol of honor in the Church. The Cardinal helps lead the Church by advising the pope and electing the papal successor. The selection of cardinals reflects several aspects of a pope. The pope might select one man in tribute to his long devotion to the Church. He might select another because of his specialty in some area of concern for the pope. He might select another because the cardinal-designate is young, his beliefs more in line with the current pope’s beliefs, an advantage if the pope hopes to retain his policies in the Church after his death.

Confused yet? Don’t worry, it was much worse when six-year olds were awarded the red hat. But that’s a history lecture for another day.

Anyway, the new Cardinals named on November 20^th have been assigned their membership in different Roman dicasteries (Congregations, Pontifical Councils, etc). Being as that only two of the cardinals are Americans, I will focus on their memberships, rather than examining the importance of all the other cardinals (though I’m sure many of them are important). I’ve met both of them at some point. Wuerl is the Archbishop of the Washington Archdiocese, where I live, and Burke visited and received an honorary doctorate from Christendom College, where I went to school, during the College’s 30^th Anniversary celebrations (it was my senior year; I served Mass with Burke). So I have a special connection to both Cardinals, and it is with honor that I present their assignments.

Cardinal Wuerl is now a member of the Congregation for the Clergy and the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity. This makes a lot of sense, since he is the "go-to" guy for American Anglicans wishing unity with the Church, which is linked with Christian Unity. Likewise, as a member of the Congregation for the Clergy, Wuerl will be involved in educating and forming new priests, a cause that has always been close to his heart (he recently announced a new seminary in the Archdiocese of Washington). Education is a big part of Wuerl’s life, which I’m sure played a part in his assignment to the Council for Christian Unity as well, since sound faith education is key when unifying the Church with our separated brothers and sisters.

Cardinal Burke is now a member of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Sacraments, the Congregation for Bishops, and the Pontifical Council for Interpreting Legislative Texts. This is exciting news for those of us with an even slight traditional bend in our liturgical and theological beliefs. Burke has long been a champion of the “Reform of the Reform” endorsed and really driven by Pope Benedict XVI both before and after his elevation to the papacy. As such, his inclusion in the Congregation whose SOLE PURPOSE is the worship of the Church is a welcome one. As a member of the Congregation for Bishops, Burke will have a say in future episcopal appointments. This is key, since the bishops of tomorrow affect the direction in which the Church turns. Burke’s appointment to the Council for Interpreting Legislative Texts goes almost without saying, since he is also Prefect of the Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Signatura, making him the highest Canon Law judge after the Pope. Since Legislative Texts are works of Canon Law, Burke rightly belongs as a member of that Council.

We, as faithful Catholics, should pray for our new Cardinals as they step into these new roles, praying that they might stay strong and not abandon their new responsibilities.

Beliefs of An Adventist Part 1

2010-12-27T15:10:00.003-04:00

There are many Protestant groups throughout the United States and the world. One of the relatively unknown sects is the Seventh-Day Adventists. This is a shame, as it is growing in popularity and number (in 2007 it was ranked as the 12^th largest religious group in the world with nearly 17 million members). Broken off from an end-of-the-world Christian group, whose prediction of an apocalypse in 1844 proved wrong, the group can claim 1863 as its year of foundation. Their original members included former members of other Protestant communities, leading to a variety of beliefs in the community’s early years. Eventually the leaders of the movement ironed out these doctrinal disagreements, and the Seventh-Day Adventists eventually received official recognition as a Protestant Church in middle of the 20^th Century. Their beliefs were set down in 1980 in what is known as the 28 Fundamental Beliefs (it was originally 27, but a 28^th belief was added in 1995).

Now what sparked this sudden interest in a growing yet relatively obscure Protestant group? Two students of mine, actually. They are sisters, one in 6^th and one in 7^th grade. The 6^th grader, since I have her for Religion as well as Social Studies, frequently brings up what her Grandfather tells her, especially when what her grandfather tells her contradict what I am telling her. Who would have thought that my grade school students, not their parents or even high school students, would test my apologetic training? The source of apologetic discussion was the 6^th grade sister, and I have had to approach her questions without properly knowing her own spiritual background.

I am working on learning that now.

It is with this student’s permission that I was graciously aloud to borrow a copy of the Seventh-Day Adventist equivalent to the Catechism of the Catholic Church. It is entitled, appropriately enough, Seventh-Day Adventists Believe: A Biblical Exposition of 27 Fundamental Doctrines. Written/Edited by the General Conference of Seventh-Day Adventists, the book presents an in-depth examination of the different beliefs held by the Adventists. It is a must have for any who wish to examine and critique the Adventists’ point of view, as I seek to do in this series of blog posts. I hope to be fair, but firm, in my examination. It is my hope that, maybe, somehow, someone will get some use out of the series, and thus some souls might be brought to Christ.

I should note, at the onset, that Adventists don’t follow the Apostle’s Creed, as such; rather they “accept the Bible as their only creed and hold certain fundamental beliefs to be the teaching of the Holy Scriptures.” Therefore, it is a relief that they decided to lay out their fundamental beliefs in such a way. There is no recitation of these beliefs, as there is of the Catholic beliefs at Sunday Mass. As one goes through the beliefs, one notices that most are the same to other Protestant faiths, though there are some key differences.

Hopefully all will become clearer once this series is through. Hopefully, though I make no promises. . . .

Advent and Christmas poems

2010-12-25T22:48:00.004-04:00

Throughout Advent, I have been writing little poems to put in my Facebook statuses. It was fun and a good excuse to work on my poetic moves.

I've decided to post the poems here, starting with the earliest and concluding with the last, which was written in honor of Christmas. I have read over them and tweeked them a little from the originals on Facebook.

I hope you enjoy them.

POEMS FOR ADVENT and CHRISTMAS 2010

“Preparing the Magi”

In silence I wait for Him,

trembling I search Him out.

Where will he be, I ask

my peers, who shout aloud

"Behold he comes!"

Seers seem so silly sometimes.

“Joseph”

The angel told me patience,

and so I wait.

Moving slowly

from state to state

If God has come

to my own home

How will I greet Him?

With love full grown.

“The Annunciation”

Few would heed an angel's coming,

fearful of unwanted storming,

unpleasant pains, unwanted unrest,

when angels come with God's request.

Yet here she stood, most pure in thought,

and gave the word, her holy fiat.

“Ecce Leo Dei”

There is a hint of something coming

slowly, surely, but it is coming.

Can't you hear it, breathing strongly

a lion roaring, barely sleeping,

waiting, hoping to start leaping,

He is hunting, waiting, watching.

Deep in Judah there is a lion,

not tamed, but angry, vicious, and wild.

He stalks his prey, an impure child,

that runs rampant through defiled Zion.

He wants to feed on those converted,

but cannot if they aren’t herded.

”Beware,” the serpent's whisper still,

"Avoid the lion; liberty He'll kill."

Then the serpent ran away,

fearful of that dreadful day,

the lion's birthday come at last,

a living breath from God full blast.

"Ecce Advenit"

Who would listen to what we said,

an echoed voice from prophets dead,

He comes, He comes,

From Heaven to Earth

He comes, He comes.

the Way of New Birth.

Come Sinner! Come Saint,

Bathe in the glory.

A beautiful portrait His life will paint,

His Gospel, His story.

“To my Lady, Mary”

Ave, Ave, Ave Maria.

Hail my Queen.

Hail my Lady.

Hail my Hope.

Hail, Hail, Hail, O Mary

Full of His Life, Beautiful Rose

Purest one.

Stainless, Purest One.

Flawless Jewel, Shining Gold

Hail My Lady!

Sweet Perfection.

“Gaudate”

Rejoice o daughter, your Lord comes soon.

Beware, o evil, the coming monsoon.

A King is coming, not one to boast,

though he’ll expel thee, Satan's host.

Rejoice again, throughout the land,

Feel not far from God's own hand.

Hear now his voice, feel now his trust.

Let not your swords then turn to rust,

for a fight is coming, a war appears,

when even just deaths will cause hot tears,

when young and old die in battle fray,

And peace and calmness away do stray.

But Rejoice, again, for he that brings war,

Brings too hope and love and peace evermore.

“Silent Night”

You can feel the hush as the chill surrounds you.

It’s like dying.

Something died tonight: a growl was heard,

Echoing through the dead lands.

The war is reaching its climactic finally,

Rally, Rally, Rally the troops.

ECCE REX!

Behold, he is here.

Venite! Come, let us go to Him!

The only sound is our footsteps,

Winding towards the simple castle.

No guard guards, nor archer watches.

We enter in unharmed.

Draw breath and enter,

Cast the chill away.

Feel warmth, feel strength,

As Daylight shines at night.

BEHOLD THE KING!

Bow down, man, bow down.

Do you not see the infant king?

His eyes are deep, his manner meek.

His servants moo and even bleat.

Inhale the incense of his new abode,

The sweet smell of His own creatures.

Venite Adoremus!

Bow before Him, the KING of the world.

No ordinary king, to be sure,

But the King of Kings, the great High Priest,

A hero divine, a prince of peace.

Tremble before him, and know his mercy.

He takes away our sins. He breaths in us new life.

But not yet.

For now He sleeps.

He has years to save us,

Any moment he could do it.

But he will do it when he wills,

And not a moment sooner

Nor later.

Who do we tell of the glories of God?

Our neighbors? Our masters?

We tell our friends, who tell theirs too.

We are ready, for He comes, He comes,

Behold He comes.

Ecce Advenit!

We must tell someone.

And in the silence of the night,

The calm remains unbroken.

The still and silence breathes new life

Into the wayward world.

upcoming posts

2010-12-22T23:42:00.002-04:00

Before the year is out, I will post several new posts on the blog. One will involve something involving what I got for Christmas (maybe). Another will be the start of a series of articles examining the doctrinal differences between the Seventh-Day Adventists and Catholics (inspired by discussions with one of my students who is Seventh-Day Adventist, who let me borrow her family's book about the religion).

Also, I will post some of the essays from the exams for the class I recently completed (HIST 610).

For how, I will post a website that will be permanently linked on the sidebar of this blog. The Rambler, the student newspaper for the College, has put up a new website. The Rambler recently won an award for its layout editing. The award was from the Collegiate Network, a nationwide group of college student newspapers; the small Catholic college newspaper beat out newspapers from all over the country. If you like what you see, please donate to the newspaper, or maybe even order a subscription of the paper.

Here is the website: http://www.rambleronline.org/

Until I post again, enjoy!

Vote for the CINO Award

2010-12-08T20:20:00.001-04:00

Have you ever noticed that whenever someone says "Not to be mean. . . ," the next words out of their mouth will be offensive.

Not to be mean. . . . YOU should totally go vote for your choice for the CINO (Catholic in Name Only) this year. There's some good choices this year.

I won't tell you for whom I voted.

Go here.

Book List post thing

2010-11-26T23:18:00.000-04:00

I got this list through Facebook. Several of my friends have done it, so I’m gonna give it a go, so to speak. I find it annoying that they list a complete work collection, as well as an individual work (see the Shakespeare plays, or the Chronicles of Narnia). You think that they could come up with more books to fill in the gaps. Stupid BBC.

I’ve included my comments in RED.

I’m also adding something not there before. If I underline the book, that means I read it for school, any age.

The Rules

Copy this into your NOTES.
Bold those books you've read in their entirety.
Italicize the ones you started but didn't finish or read only an excerpt.
Tag other book nerds. Tag me as well so I can see your responses!
The BBC says that most people average about 6 of the following, -- Let's see how well I do!

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen [Who knows. Maybe one day I’ll give in to the girl pressure and read it.]

2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien

3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte

4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling [one day]

5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee [great book]

6. The Bible [I’ve decided I’m gonna try reading the whole thing this coming year. . . ]

7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell [One day. . . ]

9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman

10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens [the whole middle of my high school freshman ENGL textbook was this novel]

11. Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

12. Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy

13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller

14. Complete Works of Shakespeare [One day, when I have money and time]

15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier

16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien [YAY]

17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk

18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger [Awkward. . . ]

19. The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger

20. Middlemarch - George Eliot

21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell

22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald [YAY]

23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens

24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy

25. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams

26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh [Top 3 favorite books]

27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky [Also in the Top 3 Favorite list]

28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck

29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll [My copy is currently in the possession of one of my students]

30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens

33. Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis [DOUBLE YAY!!!]

34. Emma -Jane Austen [yeah yeah, I read the girly book]

35. Persuasion - Jane Austen

36. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - CS Lewis [Actually, I don’t think this was my favorite of the series. I think my favorite was. . . oh well, anyway]

37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini

38. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres

39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden

40. Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne

41. Animal Farm - George Orwell [One Day. . . ]

42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown

43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving

45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins

46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery

47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy

48. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood

49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding

50. Atonement - Ian McEwan [Sexy. . . ?]

51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel

52. Dune - Frank Herbert

53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons

54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen

55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth

56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon

57. A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens

58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley [fun times]

59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon

60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck

62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt

64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold

65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas

66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac

67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy

68. Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding

69. Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie

70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville [I read about ½ of it when I was in grade school]

71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens

72. Dracula - Bram Stoker

73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett

74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson

75. Ulysses - James Joyce

76. The Inferno - Dante [I did actually read the whole thing, at one point]

77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome

78. Germinal - Emile Zola

79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray

80. Possession - AS Byatt

81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens

82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell

83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker

84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro

85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert

86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry

87. Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White [Classic]

88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom

89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton

91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad [The horror. . . Well, it wasn’t that bad]

92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery [In a religion class, no less]

93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks

94. Watership Down - Richard Adams [Again, one of my students has my copy]

95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole

96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute

97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas

98. Hamlet - William Shaskespeare [The play’s the thing in which I’ll catch the conscience of the king]

99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl

100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

A post about "The Doer of Good"

2010-11-13T22:40:00.003-04:00

Being as its been 2 months since I last post, I figured you need an explanation. Well, lets put it this way: I'VE BEEN BUSY! Get off my back!

Ok, well, nobody's been on my back.

Regardless, I feel as though I need to post something, so in light of not having anything else complete right now, feel free to read my paper for the Irish Literature/"Theological Applications in Irish Literature" course I took this summer in conjunction with my trip to Ireland. It is about "The Doer of Good" by Oscar Wilde. Enjoy!

SELF-GIFT AS SHOWN IN OSCAR WILDE’S “THE DOER OF GOOD”

Throughout his literary works, Oscar Wilde returns repeatedly to the theme of self-gift. He often includes characters who give of themselves for the sake of others. In this way, these characters are types of Christ, giving great gifts of life and love to a frequently ungracious soul. Though there are many Wilde stories that show this allegorical symbolism, one exemplifies the spiritual ramifications of such self-gifts, namely Wilde’s “Poem in Prose” entitled “The Doer of Good,” which depicts Christ’s encounter with some ungracious recipients of his love. It is a symbolism found in other Wilde stories, such as “The Nightingale and the Rose” and “The Birthday of the Infanta,” though it is in “The Doer of Good” that one sees the gifts so frequently rejected. Wilde’s purpose in this story clear: by rejecting the gifts of Christ, we are rejecting Christ as well.

“The Doer of Good” opens with a single sentence, one that introduces the rejection addressed in the rest of the story: “It was night-time and He was alone.”[1] The immediate image is depressing. The narrator never names the ambiguous “He” is in the story, though he must be used to companionship, for the narrator stresses that “He was alone,” as if this was abnormal. Likewise the narrator mentions, “It was night-time,” calling to mind an absence of daylight, another abnormality. Why is He alone at night? Where are his friends? The story does not say, though a closer examination of the He character might illuminate the problem.

It becomes clear early on in the story that the “He” is none other than Jesus Christ. On the one hand, Wilde capitalizes the “H” in “He,” giving right honor to Christ. His identity becomes clearer as He meets different people who have received gratuity from Him in the past, all of whom He had in some way healed. If one reads the story with Christ replacing the pronoun “He,” the question of why He is alone makes sense. Christ frequently withdrew from the crowd to pray and meditate. It is possible that this story, set at night, follows one of these personal retreats. This would explain why “He was alone.” One can find support for such a claim in the story’s next sentence, which reads, “And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the city” (Wilde, 244). Christ is away from the city, possibly approaching after a day of meditation and prayer.

Since “He” is Christ, the clause “and it was night” takes on a new sense of symbolism. Perusing the Bible reveals several appropriate passages dealing with God’s light conquering the darkest night. In Isaiah 9:2, for example, the prophet notes famously, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.” The Gospel writers filled their works with references to Christ as light. This is clearest in the Gospel According to John, where Christ refers to Himself frequently as “light.” For example, Jesus speaks of the dichotomy between the light and the darkness with Nichodemus:

And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one who does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does what is true comes to the light, that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been wrought in God. (John 3:19–21)

Later on in that same Gospel, Jesus states how He is “the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). He even compares his presence and absence from Earth to daylight and night respectively: “We must work the works of him who sent me, while it is day; night comes, when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world” (John 9:4–5). Without Christ, then, nighttime drowns the world in darkness. Night becomes a time away from Christ, a time away from the light of God’s love and redemption, even a time of loneliness. Christ is ordinarily the remedy for such dark loneliness, but in “The Doer of Good,” Christ walks the dark night alone. Along his walk, He encounters the signs of a darkness even his presence cannot disperse.

He first meets a young man living in a luxurious palace. Wilde, with his usual detailed descriptiveness, describes the young man’s palace: “And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within and without there were torches of cedar.” The house is beautiful to the point of extravagance, an abuse against which Christ had preached frequently (see, for example, Luke 16:19–31). Now he enters a house overflowing with such excesses; the reader can almost picture a wave of despair washing over His face. His despair grows as he approaches the young host of the party, wallowing in the extravagance:

And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and whose lips were red with wine.

And he went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to him, ‘Why do you live like this?’

The reader can almost hear the sorrow in His voice as he speaks, a sacrificial heart reaching out to one who needs such a gift.

The next line reveals that He has given the young man a gift, one of a new life: “And the young man turned round and recognized Him, and made answer and said, ‘But I was a leper once and you healed me. How else should I live’” (244)? The young man is one of the former lepers Christ healed in his public ministry. It could be the leper healed on his way to Capernaum:

And behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.’ And he stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, ‘I will; be clean.’ And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Jesus said to him, ‘See that you say nothing to any one; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded, for a proof to the people.’ (Matthew 8:2–5; see also Mark 1:40–45)

Perhaps it was Simon the leper, in whose house a woman entered and anointed Christ’s head (Matt. 20:7, Mark 14:3). Luke 7:36–50 mentions that Simon is a Pharisee, and therefore a high profile man in Jewish circles. If he is the same Simon as Simon the leper, then this Simon is the bad host that did not show Christ the basic hospitality of the time. It may be that the leper in “The Doer of Good” is Simon, here continuing his bad habit of missing the greatest of gifts. Another possibility is that the young man is one of the ten lepers Christ healed on the way to Jerusalem (Luke 17:12–19). It may even be the Samaritan, the only grateful one of the ten. If that is the case, then the young man not only rejects Christ’s gift, but he is aware of how great the gift is. Regardless of which man the story depicts, he should know the goodness of God, and yet he persists in his excessive lifestyle.

Christ moves on from the ungrateful man. He encounters in the city a young painted woman of the night. Behind her is another young man, different from the one of monetary excess, obsessed with a different kind of excess. This young man lusts after the girl, who likewise encourages his bad behavior with her sensual walk and alluring dress. Wilde also uses religious language to describe the two: “Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the eyes of the young man were bright with lust” (244). The young man stares in lust; Christ’s condemnation of such behavior rings hollow in his ear: “But I say to you that every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matt. 5:28). He is an adulterer, though he does not care. His passions so consume the young man that he worships the object of his desire, namely the girl, rather than God, the true object of worship. Lust is his only care, his perverted rite of worship.

Seeing such abhorred behavior, He intervenes. As with the former leper, this young man also recognizes Him, for Christ healed this young man as well. He was once blind, and like the young man before, he abuses the gift given to him by Christ. The biblical origin for this young man could be any one of the many blind men healed by Christ in his ministry, but it is most likely the man born blind in John 9, as it is perhaps the most famous example of a man born blind. As with the former leper, the former blind man has wasted his divine cure. “At what else should I look” (245), he asks, finding nothing more appealing than the sensual female form. He ignores the beauty in front of him, the glory of Christ there present. He received physical sight from Christ, but by turning away from Him, the young man becomes blind to God’s grace.

Jesus turns to the seductive woman, asking “Is there no other way in which to walk save the way of sin” (245)? As before, the woman turns and recognizes Him. Unlike the two young men, however, the woman laughs. “But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way,” she replies (245). Again, there are several possible sources for the woman mentioned here. It could be the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1–11) or perhaps the woman who bathed the Lord’s feet with her tears (Matt. 20:7, Mark 14:3; Luke 7:36–50). If it is the second woman, the one who washed Christ’s feet with her tears, then the young man who was a leper might indeed be Simon, for it was in his house that the woman performed her original acts of kindness. Again, the complete rejection Christ’s gift leads to a turn towards sin and destruction. There is little meaning in the life of the woman, as there is little meaning in the life of the two young men, for they have abandoned the one who is Life, killing themselves spiritually.

In the woman, there a new stage of spiritual abandonment. She laughs at Christ, as if His shock is unexpected. It is only natural, she must think, to return to such a life, for Christ forgave her. In responding as she does, the woman represents the presumptuous people who believe that salvation is assured after their initial conversion. The two young men mentioned already in the follow this view as well, but only the woman expresses it. Nothing one does can remove the saving imprimatur. One need not live as Christ lived, or even follow his basic teachings. The initial baptism, or even a mere assent of faith, is all that one needs for salvation. How wrong these people are. How distressing is their situation. Christ cannot heal or forgive an unwelcoming host. He cannot give his gifts to those who do not want them.

With sadness, He leaves the city. The Gospels record another time where Christ left a city after facing the unwelcome reception of its people. In that passage, Christ rejects the suggestion of John and James to call down fire from heaven and destroy the city (Luke 9:52–56). In a later passage, Christ notes that it will be better for the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah, Tyre and Sidon, than for a town which rejects Him (Luke 10:13–16). This town, likewise, has rejected Him, and He will hold the town accountable at the Judgment.

Outside the city, He finds the opposite end of the faithful spectrum. Outside is a young man weeping. As with the other three individuals, Christ approaches the young man tenderly. “Why are you weeping,” Christ asks (245). Like the others, this young man looks into the face of Christ and recognizes Him. It is with great sadness that one reads the last line of the story: “but I was dead once and you raised me from the dead. What else should I do but weep?” We know exactly which young man this is. Assuming that Wilde is referencing stories from Scripture, it must be the young man raised from the dead in Luke 7:12–15. The only other two notable instances of Christ raising the dead are a young woman (Matt. 9:18–26) and Lazarus, who was older (John 11). It seems that the young man, like the three before, has received a life changing gift from Christ. Unfortunately, he does not appreciate it.

The young man suffers from despair. If in the city the presumption of the people leads to their rejection of Christ, then outside the city this young man’s despair likewise leads to a rejection of Christ. Neither the young man at the beginning of the story nor the young man at the end has a properly ordered understanding of Christ’s mission for us. The first three sinners fall in one direction, assuming their salvation is guaranteed while they live lives of sin; this last sinner falls in the other direction, presuming there is no hope for himself or for others. All are sinners, but in a way, this last one is particularly upsetting, for by despairing and claiming that there is no hope, that there is no joy in this world, he also rejects heaven. If there is no good in this life, a prefigurement of the life to come, then the life to come must likewise lack goodness. Even if he weeps because he was so close to the glories of Heaven but was taken back to Earth, a resolute soul would see this gift of life as a chance to better himself, to be ever more ready for the eternal glories of the next life. This young man does not see the gift this way. He instead rejects the gift as a curse and weeps, as if weeping was the only way to live. In rejecting his gift, he is also guilty of rejecting Christ.

All four people met in this story share a common rejection of gifts. The first three reject their gifts of a new life by reveling in the excesses of the world, abusing the gift and rejecting the gift-giver, who is Christ. The last young man, rejects his gift of a new life by rejecting life itself, and likewise rejecting Christ. These four in a sense represent the entire human race, to whom Christ gives immense gifts of life. How often, then, do we reject these abundant gifts, and by doing so reject Christ? Though not a work of spirituality in the strict sense, Christians everywhere can draw spiritual water from “The Doer of Good” and meditate on their own acceptance of the Divine Will. The world needs to draw closer to Christ from whom all good gifts flow, so we might not end up like the sinners in this story, living lives without Christ.

[1]Oscar Wilde, “The Doer of Good” in Ian Small, ed. Complete Short Fiction (New York: Penguin Books, 2003), 244. All subsequent references to “The Doer of Good” are from this edition and are henceforth cited parenthetically in the text as follows: (244).

Nine Years Ago

2010-09-11T12:11:00.001-03:00

Nine years ago, I was a Sophomore in High School. I went to a Catholic High School located just outside Washington DC in Virginia. Nine years ago today, I was sitting in class, Religion class, if I remember correctly. During Second Period, someone from the office came over the loud speaker and said, in a very serious voice, that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. That was all they told us.

Oh. I thought. That's sad for that pilot, thinking they were referring to a small personal craft. Why are they announcing it? Was it someone related in some way to the school? We said a prayer, but I at least wasn’t really sure what was happening.

Now even though it has only been a short time since then, everything about that day is a blur. The events from that second period to the end of the day are mixed up and unclear. But I’ll try and remember.

By Third Period we had confirmation that it was an airliner, and that there were two now. By 4^th Period we were watching the news, catching a glimpse of endless smoke pouring out of the buildings. Ever so often, a child was called to go home. One by one, the classes dwindled. Schoolwork? Some of the teachers thought about it, but gave in, and turned on the TVs. We soon heard about the Pentagon, since we were so close to it. We sat in class and watched the screen. Down the first tower fell. Down it went, as if it were nothing more than a stack of cards.

Through all of this, I only had a vague understanding of what was happening. I couldn’t shake Pearl Harbor out of my mind. I knew how my grandparents felt. I knew what it was like to witness an attack on America happen, to experience the unsure horror of it all. I remained at school the entire day. Once I got home, I hugged my mom. The news was on the rest of the day. We heard Bush address the nation, and hoped that everything would be better soon.

And here we are today. My generation has been defined by that day. The so-called “Millennium Generation,” also called “Generation Y,” include all those who were born between the end of the 1970s and the beginning of the 1990s, old enough to witness the 9/11 attacks first hand. That is our legacy. I am defined by that day of horror. And it is true. Look at the world around us, look at popular culture, of the political sphere, of recent American history, of religion and ecumenism, of international relations. The events of 9/11 have scared these realms. No where is safe. Men have made careers based on the events which unfolded that day. I’m not referring to military members, although anyone in the military between 9/11/2001 in some way owes their career to the attacks, and subsequent military force.

Look at the world of Pop Culture. Michael Moore, director of quite possibly the most influential documentary in recent years, 2002’s Bowling for Columbine, has revitalized his career as a result of the 9/11 attacks. Bowling for Columbine, although it only mentions the attacks briefly, connects the violence that day with the violence in this country’s recent history. Moore’s follow up film, Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004), focuses on the controversy (“Controversy. . . What Controversy?”) surrounding the attacks and the subsequent invasion of Iraq, particularly by connecting President Bush’s family and Osama bin Laden’s family. It became the highest grossing documentary ever, and has cemented Moore as the documentary filmmaker for the liberal world. He is loved by some, hated by many, but unless he completely bombs at the box office (his most recent film, Capitalism: A Love Story, grossed over $14 million domestically), he will continue his rather successful career.

Likewise the music world has become saturated with anti-Bush songs, as well as pro-America songs (the latter mostly found on country music stations). The human struggle in Iraq and Afghanistan following the 9/11 attacks bled into the natural disaster which was Hurricane Katrina. Both were blamed on President Bush and his policies. One need only listen to the American Idiot album by Green Day or Minutes to Midnight by Linkin Park to see such anger against the former president.

Many books and countless news articles have appeared, all because of the attacks and the history afterwards. It has become the standard, it seems, to hold Bush’s views following the attacks as wrong, and indeed they were not entirely correct. But the anger, the outrage which has persisted these last 9 years paints America as a country against itself. Having traveled to Europe, I know that, like us, they get the vast majority of their view of America from the popular culture. Who are Americans? We are the violent, pill popping, sex crazed monsters which infect our screens. We are closer to Hell than anyone in Heaven. This is our national portrait.

But that is not us. As the true history of our country these last 9 years shows, in the soldiers who have fought and died in the Middle East, in the men who have seriously taken charge when the road became rough, in those who remained faithful despite having seen their faith despised, we are not those monsters who inhabit our movies and TVs. We are better than that. We are the country that stood against our attackers and fought back. We are the country that said NO to another force of evil. We are the country that turned the tragedy of 9/11 into the a glimmer of hope. While we may not have done it as gracefully as one could, we did it.

So it does seem appropriate, then, that such an important event, my generation’s Vietnam, would define us as a nation. We are strong, we are brave, we are charitable. As much as men deny Christ, He informs us, making us the nation we are today.

Nine years ago, I never would have thought such a thought. I think it here today.

an update

2010-08-25T18:32:00.002-03:00

I have not forgotten my promise. Its just that I've been busy (Studying for my take-home Irish History final, for one thing).

Good News: I'm dating an AWESOME girl.

Other good news: I'm employed as a teacher again (expect more teacher stories)

Ireland

2010-08-14T18:26:00.002-03:00

I recently returned from a two week trip to Ireland. This was my second journey to the Emerald Isle, and I enjoyed myself immensely. In honor of the trip, I will try to post some of my journal thoughts about the trip. I will edit out the really boring stuff. Perhaps I'll even include my digressions.

Irish Brigade at the First Battle of Bull Run/Manassas

2010-07-21T13:59:00.003-03:00

In honor of the anniversary of the first major battle in the Civil War, I have decided to post a small section of my History thesis. The entire thesis, entitled "'Paddy's Jubilation': The Wide-ranging Patriotism of Irish-Americans in the North During the American Civil War", can be found in the Christendom College Library, where all the undergraduate thesis are preserved. The following is adapted from a section in the first chapter. The whole chapter deals with Irish in the North's military during the Civil War, and their patriotism. This section specifically deals with the events which occurred July 21, 1861. . . .

Other Irish regiments formed in other states, particularly the 69^th and 116^th in Pennsylvania, which fought at the Battle of Gettysburg along with the 28^th Massachusetts Volunteers, and the 15^th Maine.[i] However, none of these regiments ever approached the sheer size of the famous “Irish Brigade” from New York, the most famous Irish fighting force in the Civil War. The Irish Brigade was for most of its existence filled with soldiers from New York, particularly the famous “Fighting 69^th” regiment, although other states were occasionally represented. Not only was this brigade the largest group of fighting Irishmen in the Civil War, dwarfing any regiment from other Northern cities, but it is also one of the best-documented fighting bodies in the entire history of the Civil War thanks to Captain David Power Conyngham. Conyngham, who had received a chest wound at the Battle of Resaca while working as an aid to the Brigade’s general, Thomas Meagher, wrote a detailed history of the Brigade soon after the Civil War ended.[ii] The work remains the standard volume on the subject.

The Brigade itself received praise not only from Irish writers and Union generals, but also from such strange sources as a writer from the London Times. This was, by all accounts, a valiant group of men, devoted not only to their adopted country of America but their mother country of Ireland as well. Conyngham notes that, “many a patriotic young Irishman wanted to learn the use of arms and the science of war, with the hope of one day turning them to practical use in his own country.”[iii] Others had fought for Ireland and had escaped the English by immigrating to America. General Meagher is a prime example. He had emigrated from Ireland after being arrested as part of the “Young Ireland” movement in the 1840s.[iv] He, like many of his troops in the Irish Brigade, saw the Civil War as a sort of stepping stone to fighting for freedom in Ireland. It was not as much a fight for one country or another, but rather was a fight for the high ideals of freedom and unity. He urged his men to fight not only as Americans, but also as Irishmen.

This is clearly shown in the Brigade’s martial performance at the First Battle of Bull Run (known as the First Battle of Manassas in the South), the battle of Antietam, and the battle of Fredericksburg, where the Irish fought with awe-inspiring bravery. These three battles, important ones in the Civil War, were also the three major battles that featured the Irish Brigade as a unified force. Later battles that featured members of the Brigade, such as Gettysburg, only featured scattered parts of the Brigade. However, these three battles from the first two years of the war capture not only the bravery of the Irish Brigade, but also the bravery of all the Irish fighting for the Union.

The First Battle of Bull Run, which occurred on July 21, 1861, near Manassas, Virginia, was the first major battle of the Civil War. It was here that the Union’s hope of a short war vanished. At the start of the battle the Union forces held their own, but by the end they found themselves retreating from a confident army of Confederates. Despite the loss, the Irishmen present rose to the occasion, harnessing their notorious Irish temper against the enemy forces.

The Battle was well underway when the Irish Brigade was sent in to attack. Conyngham’s portrayal of the battle depicts the Confederates as repelling, “charge after charge, regiment after regiment.”[v] The Brigade, primarily made of the “Fighting 69^th" of New York, immediately faced enemy fire. Conyngham’s description, gripping and passionate, is as follows:

Stripped of knapsacks and overcoats, they swept up the hill, across the open field, on towards the wood, delivering fire after fire on their concealed foe. Batteries opened on them right and left, hurling grape into their very faces, while from the shelter of the woods a stream of lead was poured on them. It was a gallant charge, gallantly led and gallantly sustained. After each repulse, the regiment formed and charged right up on the batteries.[vi]

This continued on until the Brigade was ordered to retreat, which it did “without panic,” as Edward Spann describes.[vii] Even the Confederates were impressed with their bravery, with one commenting that, “‘The Irish fought like heroes,’ and at the end ‘did slowly retire.’”[viii] It was a performance that impressed General Irvin McDowell, Union General during the battle, so much that he personally rode over and thanked the Irish soldiers.[ix] That first battle caught the attention of generals, solidifying the Irish Brigade as a band of great warriors.

[i]Joseph P. O’Grady, How the Irish Became Americans (Boston, MA: Twayne Publishers, 1973), 46.

[ii]David Power Conyngham, The Irish Brigade and Its Campaigns (New York: William McSorley & Co., 1867. Reprint, New York: Fordham University Press, 1994), 12.

[iii]Ibid., 6.

[iv]Ibid., 533–535.

[v]Conyngham, 36.

[vi]Ibid., 36-37.

[vii]Edward K. Spann, “Union Green: The Irish Community and the Civil War,” in Ronald H. Bayor and Timothy J. Meagher, ed. The New York Irish (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), 196.

[viii]Ibid., 41.

[ix]Conyngham, 37.

Catholic Schools Need Men

2010-07-10T00:33:00.003-03:00

A friend of mine posted this article on Facebook recently. As a male teacher in a Catholic school, the topic intrigued me immediately. So I read it, and have decided to comment. I’m gonna try something different. I’m going to provide my commentary in the text of the article itself. I’m taking my queue from Fr. Z at What Does The Prayer Really Say?, using Red and Black in his honor. Black are highlights, Red are my comments.

Without further ado. . .

“Catholic Schools Need Men”
By Mark Judge

The Catholic schools of Washington should hire me -- because I'm a man.

When I started substitute teaching at St. Mary's, a Catholic school in Maryland [If he had included the city, I would know which school], two years ago, I noticed something that has become so common that it goes unnoticed. The Catholic grammar schools - like public elementary schools - are mostly run by women [Its like being run by nuns, but without the Orders]. In some of them there is not a single male teacher. In the archdiocese as a whole, the ratio is about 10-1, and it is similar in the rest of the country. This imbalance is terrible for a Church that is still stumbling through a sex abuse crisis and fighting a secular culture that grows increasingly misogynistic. Kids need male role models [True], and it's time for some affirmative action in Catholic schools.

This is not the usual conservative argument that too many women in positions of authority are bad for boys [Never hurt before]. I am the product of a family full of tough, smart, independent Catholic women, from my mother who was a nurse in Korea to my sister the single mother to my sister-in-law the pediatrician. I know better than to make the argument that women are lacking in any way intellectually or morally or physically (my sister's Catholic Youth League basketball team could run circles around us boys when I was a kid). Women who run Catholic schools produce brilliant, achieving women. That is not the issue.

The damage done by the abusive priests and the bishops who moved them from parish to parish has given the impression that the men who are leaders in the Catholic Church are duplicitous at best and iniquitous at worst. In order to get over this, the Church not only needs penance - she needs men in the schools who show children a model of male moral strength. Catholic kids need to see men who would go to their own death rather than see harm come to a child [AMEN! Kids in general need to see this].

A priest friend of mine agrees who runs a well-known parish in DC agrees. I went to see him a couple weeks ago, to ask him why I kept getting turned down for teaching jobs, and why they always seemed to go to women. He told me he himself was frustrated about it, and that I should write to the bishop. The priest and I had a man-to-man talk, as it were, which points to the other, perhaps more abstract, problem that the man shortage reveals: woman and men have a different rapport with children [Duh]. Children instinctively talk and act differently around them, and it is important that they have access to both sexes throughout the course of the day [Moms and Dads are nice]. This has nothing to do with the so-called "feminization of Christianity," an argument that holds that the "masculine traits" have been scrubbed from Christianity due to women controlling parish offices and schools [Haven’t heard that one. . . ]. If the masculine traits are bravery, toughness, strength and discipline, then many of the female teachers at St. Mary's have them more than I do. In fact, my first few times subbing their it was the women who helped me out with effective techniques to discipline kids, how to run the audio-visual equipment, and how to control the chaos at recess [That’s because, 9 times out of 10, the teachers either KNOW the kids better than the subs, or the teachers scare the crap out of the students].

The argument is not about putting Sylvester Stallone into eighth grade to make men outta the boys; it's having men in the schools who can reinforce a Catholic feminism [Wait for it. . . ]. This is the feminism found in the example of the Virgin Mary [YES]. It is a feminism that is tough enough to travel miles through the dessert on a donkey, and at a desperate hours bluntly ask God face to face to do something, as the Blessed Mother did at the wedding at Cana. It is the feminism that had the courage to stand at the foot of the cross when the men had fled.

Ironically, this is the kind of feminism that can sometimes be best delivered by a man. This year girls basketball team at St. Mary's won the league championship. As a reward the girls on the team got to come to school out of uniform, wearing whatever ever t-shirts they wanted to. The boys, whose team had not done as well, were sulking around school, bristling whenever the girls would brag. I noticed they were whispering to each other, "Yeah, but girls basketball is not a sport." They would never say in front of any teachers, 90 percent of whom are women. But then the sixth grade came into my classroom in the afternoon and, the boys saw me standing in the front and they let themselves go. "It's not a sport!" they cried. They called out, men to man, for validation - "Mr. Judge, girls basketball is not a sport! Right?"

I was surprised. I grew up in the 1970s, and even in those dark ages we would never have claimed that women's basketball was not a sport. Had thing moved that far backwards? Actually, I answered, not only is it a sport, it's a lot more interesting than men's basketball. Men's basketball has become a lot of dunking. In women's basketball there is strategy, jump-shots, thinking [I would have just said “Yes. Now sit down and do your work.”].

The boys looked at me suspiciously for a few seconds. But then they seemed to take it in.

I submit that to young boys, this message is different coming from a man. I was an athlete when I was younger, am an orthodox Catholic, love women and sports, and am unaffected by 1960s style rage feminism. Kids, who any teacher will tell you are the greatest BS detectors in the world, can tell when they are being propagandized and when someone is speaking from the heart [Not only that, but they for some reason think teachers don’t have any such detectors]. And if it is a man to boys, the message will take more often than not. It sound terrible, it may run me out of polite society, but I think that when boys spend all day every day listening to women, they do what girls do when boys go on and on about cars or sports. They stop listening [Not always, but it does happen].

What do you guys think. I know most of the people who read this blog are women, and I am particularly interested to see what you think.

New Template Decided

2010-07-04T22:19:00.000-03:00

Template update

So I changed my template, as you can see (those of you reading this through, say, Facebook, should go over to the actual blog and check out the changes).

The first one I looked at was called "Awesome, Inc." This one interested me solely on the cool name, and the appropriateness of the name to this Freaking Awesome Blog. But it didn't look too cool (and was kinda hard to read), so I went with something called "Simple." They had a cool one with books in the background, which excited me, as anyone who knows me would understand. So I tweeked it a little, and this is the current template.

Thoughts?

A new company

2010-06-28T18:12:00.002-03:00

Need some photos taken? I mean GOOD photos taken? Newly engaged? Getting married? Um, desperate for someone special, and want the most AWESOME profile picture ever?

Look no further than Colin Mason Photography. Colin brings with each shot years of camera experience, involving both still and video cameras. Each shot, as the portfolio shows, demonstrate an artistic vision rarely seen for such affordable prices.

Check him out at http://www.colinmasonphoto.com. At the very least, you get to look at awesome photos.

Also:

Need some videos shot, as in, not with a gun? Then talk to the guys at Mirandum Pictures. Yes, these are the same guys I work with to produce some rather interesting short films. As movie lovers, they know film making inside and out. They aim for quality and bring it to everyone, not just the people who shell out $5000 per day for a high quality video. With Mirandum Pictures, it's affordable quality video. Always. Great video, great price. No matter what you need, they should be able to fit the bill. Check them out at http://mirandumpictures.net.

As these two companies mature, I'll update you. Both have links for questions if you have any inquiries.

The Quest for my Driver's License (Part 3)

2010-06-28T18:07:00.001-03:00

Friday

As my first two attempts to gain a license had failed, I felt an almost moral obligation to succeed on Friday. I knew that, if I failed, I wouldn’t get a chance to take the test again until August, as I would be in Front Royal, and then Ireland, for most of the summer. I had to pass, or else my traveling to class would be a challenge, to say the least.

All of this weighed heavily on my mind as I stood in line, for a third time, waiting for my turn to take the test. Once again, I was in my sister’s car, the one I had failed in the day before. Once again, the car passed the initial, physical examination. My tester this time was a rather scripted guy, who made sure he read exactly what he needed to, so that I knew all the rules.

We got the parallel parking part. I was really careful this time.

And I passed it. I was a little far away from the curb at first, but I pulled it closer, and it was fine.

Whew.

We moved on a little bit further, and he announced my need to make a 2-way reverse parking, which is basically when you back into a parking space. I started backing up, but realized I needed more room (I was almost on top of a flag), so I pulled forward a little. I knew, in the back of my head, that it would cost me a point, but I knew I had to do it. One point off is always better than failing. And it worked, anyway, and I parked the car successfully, with that little extra room.

From there, the test was easy. It was a road section, which basically consisted in driving around near the MVA. After we passed a speed limit sign, he asked which sign we passed. That kind of stuff. Needless to say, that was the stuff I was EXCELLENT at, so I passed that part. And then we came back around, he congratulated me (he almost wrote the date and my score in the fail column thought. Haha). I went inside, and after some waiting, I was a newly licensed driver.

Awesome news, since apparently I was one of the few people who passed that day.

And that is the story of the Quest for my Driver’s License. It was an adventure, and I’m finished with it. Looking at my license, noting the floating head picture in the bottom-left corner, I can’t help but feel relieved. I don’t have to worry about paying $50 to renew the learners. I don’t have to keep track of my practice hours. I can just drive. Like a cowboy or something, except in a car, instead of on a horse.

It feels wonderful.

The Quest for my Driver's License (Part 2)

2010-06-27T14:52:00.001-03:00

Thursday

My dad set up another appointment for me to take the test on Thursday. The problem was, in which car should I take the test? Should I take it in the family van? No, it was decided, because that might fail the initial inspection. Should I take it in the Dodge, the car I would inherit? Again, no, for the same reason. What then? My sister’s car? The one I had driven once, and that was in the my church’s parking lot?

Yes.

That meant it was time for a crash course (pun intended) in driving my sister’s car. So my dad and I headed over to the driving school’s parking lot near my house. We worked for an hour or so on parking, parallel or otherwise, and generally driving around, so I could get a feel for the car. I succeeded the parallel parking, and I felt that I was ready for the test. The only thing I was worried about was bumping the curb, which wouldn’t fail me, but if I did it 3 times I would fail.

Then there was the warning signal.

My sister’s car is a newer car, and as such, it provides a warning every, I want to say every 3,000 miles or so, saying it is time for “regular service.” Now this light goes off after you start driving, so that wasn’t a problem. The problem was there was another warning signal, saying that one of the lights was out. More annoying was that it flashed on and off, repeating the need for “regular service.” If the MVA tester had failed the other car for the headlight cover, this car would definitely fail for the flashing warning lights. So we checked around the car, and found a small license plate light was out. We replaced the bulb. Did that fix the problem?

No.

Crap.

Well, it turns out that one of the taillights was loose, and that’s why the message kept flashing. We thought we had tightened it, but on Thursday, on the way to the MVA, the message started flashing AGAIN! We pulled into a gas station, and sure enough, the bulb had bumped out of place again. We got it back in the spot, and all the warnings went off. HOORAY! With renewed confidence we went to the MVA.

Once again I waited in line, once again I filled out a form for my information, once again I sat in the car waiting for the tester. Fortunately, my sister’s car passed the initial physical inspection. From here on out, any problems that occur during the test were my fault. I was excited. I had never gotten this far before. I was cheerful, even if the tester wasn’t too comforting. Pull up, the rather stiff tester said, and I did, stopping at the stop-line. Here’s where you’re going to parallel park.

Right, I thought. Parallel parking. I can do this. I said so, smiling.

I proceeded to start the parking. For those of you who don’t know how to parallel park (I hope you all do. Sheesh!), you first pull up beyond the spot where you would like to park, then back in, turning the wheel. . . Ok, its kinda hard to describe, so just take my word on it. So I started the parking, backing, backing, backing.

Ok, stop, the tester said. Put the car in park, and step outside the car.

Crap in a bucket, I thought. I looked behind me, and then got out.

I had knocked one of the flags, marking the end of the parking space.

Automatic failure.

After the guy fixed the flag, he got in the driver’s seat (failed test takers are not allowed to return the car to their parents) and we drove back to my dad. He explained to me, on the way back, all one minute it took, not to knock over the flags, and that it shouldn’t be that hard to park this car, because he could park delivery trucks, no problem, and I needed to get a better handle of the car before trying again.

And then we got out, he explained it to my dad, and we returned to the main parking lot. As mentioned earlier, if you fail once, you can set up another appointment for the next day. We did that, and we headed home to practice parking some more.

I could not figure out what I did wrong that day. I tried different ways of parking, trying to do what I had done before, but I couldn’t figure out how I knocked over the flag. Did I back up too fast? Maybe. I don’t know, and I still don’t exactly know. I practiced with my dad for over an hour, though, parking and parking and parking.

Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow I’m gonna pass.

New Template

2010-06-25T20:09:00.001-03:00

So I want a new template. I feel that the same, bland orange has been a part of this blog for too long.

But I don't like any of the templates provided by Blogger.

How do I make a template I want, with cool stuff, etc?

Any help helps.

The Quest for my Driver's License (Part 1)

2010-06-21T22:15:00.001-03:00

After long last (by long, I mean like 5 years), I have earned my Driver’s License. It was a process that began back before I started at the College and just ended. . . 3 days ago. I am quite relieved and excited by this little card, which has a rather attractive picture of my disembodied head floating on it.

But the process was long not only in the macro sense (the 5 years), but also in the micro sense (last week). For the driving test I took which earned me this license was not my first attempt to gain the license. Oh no. This was attempt number THREE in as many days. The story of the macro sense is boring (it just took a while for me to get all 60 hours of in car required for the license). The micro one is heartbreaking.

Let’s start on Tuesday.

Tuesday

I had an appointment for the driving test on Tuesday. That’s right, appointment. Maryland requires you to set up an appointment for your driving test (which is a good idea, since some people in other states, like Virginia, do not have such appointments, and some people just show up and don’t get to take their tests. Sad face). So I went to the MVA (aka, the DMV) to take the test. I was going to take the test in my mom’s Volvo, a jerky car that I had some experience driving (I was more used to driving the family’s van, but never you mind). I stood in line, filled out the paperwork, and was told to pull around to the side to begin the test. We did (my mom and younger sister were with me), and we sat, waiting for the tester to come. She arrived and immediately started conversing with my mom about the Volvo, which is similar to hers. Then she started the external examination of the car. I turned on the wipers, I turned on my lights, showed off my knowledge of turn signals and hazard lights, etc. As she was walking around the car, she paused. She looked over at my mom, and made a comment. My mom came over to talk to her.

They were talking about the headlights.

Now, you must understand this about the headlights on my mom’s Volvo. The headlights themselves work great. Superb. There is nothing wrong with them, save for the fact, which this tester properly noticed, that the cover is missing from one of the headlights. It’s just a bulb, shining forth in the night. Kinda poetic, actually. What makes it more poetic is that its not an easily fixable problem. But it works, so why bother. Plus, my brother had taken his driving test in the Volvo, and he had passed, once the issue was explained to the tester that he had.

Well, it didn’t work for this tester. The car was disqualified because of the light. But don’t worry, she said. This won’t go down as a failure, on your part. Just that your car was disqualified. You can come back, heck, later today, if you can get a different car. And with that, we left, attempt MVA – 1; Ibid – 0.

It was a good thing Tuesday’s events didn’t count as a failure. When you fail a driving test, you can retake the test the next day. If you fail again, you can’t take the test for a week.

It was a good thing I didn’t fail, because I needed the extra testing day after Thursday’s debacle.

an interesting article

2010-06-14T18:20:00.002-03:00

This is something I noticed a while ago. This article sums up the discussion nicely. No comments here, just a quote, to get you interested:

"The drive for same sex marriage will marginalize men from the family, and lead to the belief that the only good man is a gay man."

A major problem. One that needs to be addressed NOW, not 20 years from now, when strange science-fiction movies start coming true.

I don't care if you don't care

2010-05-31T14:15:00.001-03:00

Here's another fun teaching story. Hope you guys like it.

8>D

“I Don’t Care If You Don’t Care”

One time, when I was (Assistant) teaching 7^th grade Science, there was a sort of tiny, quiet confrontation between a student and me. It involved both of us in the hallway talking, but it did teach me to watch what I say.

Science is one of those school subjects that a student either loves or hates. Some may claim they are on the fence about science, but when you really press them, they will admit they love or hate the subject. I personally love science. I had wanted to study Zoology when I was younger, even into high school. I had wanted to be one of those cool guys on those nature shows who jumped in after animals in swamps or got to play with lizards and snakes or stuff like that. That was my dream. . . until I found out about the math. Apparently, to get a degree in science at most universities, you need college-level math.

I hate math.

With such sighs, I abandoned my dream of studying science, although I always have a place in my heart for zoology.

On the other hand, I understand how students can get bored during Science class. It’s not all explosions and animals. Science involves processes, equations, chemical formulas, and detailed diagrams. Blech. Even science-lovers like me can’t get too excited about some of the formulas and diagrams. We want meat.

On this particular day, class was slow. The students were reading about photosynthesis in class. Not the most exciting topic in science, but something they needed to know. At this point, the class was looking at a picture containing the “equation” for photosynthesis (water + carbon dioxide + sunlight = sugar + oxygen). Riveting, page-turner stuff. So obviously some students were bored and stopped paying attention. One student in particular was obviously not paying attention, so of course the teacher’s focus flew to him. He never saw it coming.

What are the raw materials for photosynthesis, Roger? It was an east question if he had been paying attention. She had just said the answer (about 30 seconds before she called on him).

He had no answer. He attempted to get by with the classic shoulder shrug. Ah the shrug. Such a motion reveals so much about the student. It’s not so much that the shrug shows that the student doesn’t know the answer, but more that he or she just doesn’t care. The teacher could burp, and explode all over the student, and the student would just keep looking away. Parents, you probably recognize this in your children. It’s the “can we please move on” shrug, the “dear God, get me the hell out of here” shrug. It’s pretty effective too, because sometimes the fed up teacher just says “ok, well, pay attention,” and moves on, with the student not actually sure what just happened. A sort of unconsciousness is the result, with the student later getting in more trouble later for not paying attention again. The student does not remember being told earlier to pay attention, and thus there is arguments, attitude, and before you know it the student is in the office, staring at his hands, shrugging in response to questions from the principal.

Brick walls are more responsive.

Roger had probably shrugged his shoulders as he had just done more times than he could count. He had probably done it at least 30 times that day (an impressive feat, since it was not even 10:30 in the morning). In this class, however, Roger would not get away with the shrug. The teacher was determined to teach him the lesson, whether he wanted to learn it or not.

She pressed on, urging him to look at the picture in the book that had the answer. He literally had the answer in front of him. He wasn’t looking at it, of course, more looking away at the next page. Do you see the picture, she said. He shrugged. Its right there on the page. Huh, he said. She went over and pointed to it. He shrugged again. By this time, I had walked from one end of the room over to where they were, and could see clearly that he was not trying to look at the picture. It was almost like he was avoiding looking at the picture.

But his efforts were paying off. The teacher shook her head, explained what she was looking for, and said Pay attention.

I don’t care, he muttered under his breath. It was a good volume level, not loud enough for the teacher, who was already to the front of the room before he said it, to hear. He should have gotten away with it. On any other day he would have. Today, however, I was standing nearby.

I heard him.

I got a little pissed.

I reacted.

I don’t care if you don’t care, I said, emphasizing the first “care.” It was quick. I acted almost instinctively, as if that was what I naturally did.

I don’t know whether the student was really paying attention to me when I said this, but he very likely wasn’t. I assume he thought either I was farther away, or that I wouldn’t get mad at him for talking back. Maybe the latter, since I’m well known as a softie teacher.

I don’t care if you don’t care, he mocked, emphasizing the “you.”

Oh no he di-n’t, I thought.

Get up, I said. Groaning and reluctance oozed out of his face, and I repeated the command. He got up, and rolled his eyes.

Get your book and come with me.

Yes sir, he said, a slight mockery in his words.

With eyes rolling, we left the room for the wider hallway. We sat on the floor together, and I tried to look him in the eye. He wouldn’t, of course, because who wants to look someone else in the eye.

First I wanted to see if he understood the lesson (hence the Science book). I asked him if he knew the raw materials for photosynthesis, that is, the question the teacher had asked him in class.

Yeah, he mumbled.

Well then what was it, I asked.

He shrugged.

I wanted to scream. How the hell could you know and not know, I said. Either you know this or you don’t. AHHHHHH.

But I didn’t scream. I sighed, as I would do a lot through my years of teaching, and looked at him in the book. I pointed to the picture, explained what she asked, and had him answer the question. He did, and started to rise, as if that was all I had to say to him.

I had him sit back down, and then we had a frank chat about his behavior. I told him all the things I had been thinking. I told him that I didn’t like being made fun of or talked back to, or any of that. I asked him every time I said something to repeat back what I had said. At first he was nowhere near what I had said (I had said something like, “Don’t talk back to me,” and he said I said “Don’t talk in class”). It was slow going, but I eventually got him to pay attention.

Then I asked for his help. I’m a baby teacher, I said, and I need your help. If I do something that doesn’t help your learning, please let me know.

He said ok, but it was a kind of reluctant ok. I felt that he wouldn’t keep up his end of the bargain.

We’ll see what happens.

I helped this.

2010-05-25T17:42:00.003-03:00

I finally feel as though I've been a part of something big. I was one of the 500 million.

Here's the article, thanks to Peachy.

Google's PacMan Game Cost the World $120 Million

MAY 25 2010, 4:10 PM

On Friday, Google celebrated the 30th anniversary of Pac-man by embedding a playable Pac-man video game into the Google name on its homepage. I played it. It was fun! Little did I know I was contributing to an epic global heist.

The site RescueTime concluded that the average Google user spent 36 seconds more on Google.com on Friday than most days. Multiplied by the 500 million unique visitors on May 23 (Wolfram Alpha estimates), and you get 4,819,352 hours of time consumed by the embedded Pac-man game. RescueTime goes on:

Google Pac-Man consumed 4,819,352 hours of time (beyond the 33.6m daily man hours of attention that Google Search gets in a given day)
$120,483,800 is the dollar tally, If the average Google user has a COST of $25/hr (note that cost is 1.3 - 2.0 X pay rate).
For that same cost, you could hire all 19,835 google employees, from Larry and Sergey down to their janitors, and get 6 weeks of their time. Imagine what you could build with that army of man power.
$298,803,988 is the dollar tally if all of the Pac-Man players had an approximate cost of the average Google employee.

One Time, When I was Teaching. . . "I Hate Canada."

2010-05-23T17:28:00.003-03:00

Sorry its been so long. I've been a busy bee. With school and job hunting finally paying off, I have a lot to talk about.

But I won't.

I will just say that I have a job for the Fall (!) and it is a teaching job (!!).

In the meantime, I have decided to start recording my teaching adventures. Maybe I'll write a book some day.

So here's the first story. Its not finished, as the "investigation" is ongoing. It may never go anywhere. But here is what happened.

I Hate Canada

One time, when I was (Assistant) Teaching 6^th grade Science, back before I was a full time teacher again, something funny happened. It probably wasn’t too funny for the students involved, but reflecting back, it was pretty darn funny. Funny is funny, and this was funny.

The incident involved two boy students, Freddy and John. Freddy and John had had a feud for the entire year. The other teachers didn’t know what started it. I definitely didn’t know what started it (I had only come in the last quarter as a sub first, then teacher assistant later), but we all agreed that there was something between them. Magical, you might say, if by magical you mean evil magic rather than some happy fairy tale, clap-your-hands-to-make-Tinkerbell-come-back-to-life magic. They were enemies, pure and simple. Other junior high boys tease and try to get each other in trouble not because they hate the other, but rather because it is fun (I never said it made sense, just that they think its fun). Occasionally, however, one encounters a pair that consists of two boys who truly wish the worst for the other.

This was the case with Freddy and John.

This particular incident happened, as I said, in their Science class, the last period of the day. John had already had problems with the Math teacher earlier that day (he had colored his fingers with a pen and then tried to leave marks on the classroom wall), and I had spoken to him as well. That was my job: walk around the classroom and tell kids to stop talking/pay attention/read/stop rocking the chair, etc. The lesson for the day in Science was erosion. Ice, as everybody who’s out of grade school knows, erodes rocks. Glaciers erode even more. This was the topic of discussion that period. We have glaciers in the United States, the teacher explained. Canada has a lot too. Glaciers form lakes. . .

The lesson on glaciers continued, and I walked around the classroom to make sure everyone was paying attention, etc. As I approached Freddy and John (they sat next to each other for some reason), Freddy turned to me and said Mr. Rose, John keeps saying “I hate Canada,” and he knows I’m part Canadian.

I didn’t say that, John snapped back.

Dear God, I thought. Maybe if I tell them to stop talking and walk away, they’ll drop the issue.

Stop talking. Pay attention. Read along.

That settles that, I thought, walking away from the two of them.

A few minutes went by, containing in it much walking and correcting, and eventually I found myself standing by my desk in the front of the room. Suddenly, John appears next to me.

Mr. Rose, he said, Freddy wrote “I hate Canada” on a piece of paper and is gonna say that I wrote it.

Seriously, I thought. Go sit down, I said.

So John returned to his seat. I continued my tour of the room (stop talking. Pay attention. . .). When I arrived at Freddy and John’s desks, Freddy turned to me, and holding a piece of paper said, Mr. Rose, John wrote this and gave it to me.

Told ya he’d do it, John replied.

Sigh.

I took the anti-Canadian paper, as well as a piece of paper that each of them had been working on, and returned to my desk.

Now I don’t claim to be a handwriting expert. A half-hearted forgery could probably get past my grasp. What I do claim, however, is that I can recognize people’s handwriting, especially if I have another copy of that person’s handwriting for comparison. I had planned, foolish me, to compare the writing on the anti-Canadian sheet with the handwriting of the two students. Good idea in theory, horribly wrong in practice.

Right away, I noticed a problem. The anti-Canadian sign was written in print, in big letters. The two writing samples were written in cursive. Cursive and print look very different, even when written by the same person.

Great, I thought. Handwriting’s out.

I stared at those three sheets of paper for almost the rest of the period, trying to figure out what I could use to prove one of the two boys wrote it. Either way, someone was framing the other. If Freddy had done it, it was a pretty standard revenge inspired framing, simple enough. If John had done it, the framing was more elaborate, since it required him telling me ahead of time, almost warning me, that some sort of trick was coming. All I had were doubts. I didn’t trust either of them.

But then, what’s this? Hope? A silver lining? It appeared that both the anti-Canadian paper and Freddy’s paper were similar, as if they had come from the same pack. The one John used was very different. That’s it, I thought. I have him. Freddy framed John.

I waited until the end of class, as they were dismissing at the end of the day, to tell the two what I had found. I proudly told them what I had decided, and told them to sit down. Freddy started crying, emphasizing that it wasn’t him.

I told you it wasn’t me, John said.

It was the paper Freddy. It was the same.

It wasn’t me, Freddy said.

Robert likewise denied it, and I said, quite slyly, I thought, that neither would go to class until someone admitted what was done.

Ok, I did it, Robert said. Can we go now?

Why did you do it, I asked.

I don’t know.

Have you ever been to Canada?

Do you plan on every going to Canada?

No.

Do you know any Canadians.

Yes you do. I’m Canadian, Freddy whined.

You are? I didn’t know that.

Dear God, I said. God heard a lot from me that day.

So can we go now, John asked.

No. John, you know I can have you suspended for this, right?

What?

Why did you do it?

I don’t know.

What about the paper? I told them about my thought about the paper, it being the same as Freddy’s. . .

I got it from ____ [a girl who sits near them], Freddy said, referring to the work I had taken from him.

Yeah, I got the sheet from her too, John said, referring to the anti-Canadian paper.

AHHHHHHHHHH

Fine, you know what? I said, ripping the anti-Canadian paper in half. Write “I hate Canada” in print on these sheets. Why do we need to do that, Freddy said, his voice reflecitn a sort of horror. I need to see how you write. They did so, both taking a long time.

A very long time.

Almost a full minute to write the three words.

I haven’t written print in a long time, John said.

Bull, I thought.

Whatever.

I sent them on their way, keeping the printed “I hate Canada.” When I started looking at the three phrases, I realized that letting them write it slowly was a bad idea. The handwriting in the three phrases was very different. Whoever it was probably realized why he was writing and was careful to avoid revealing himself. Great, I thought.

So I talked with some teachers, the Math/Science and the 6^th grade homeroom teacher, and they explained that a) the two boys had been at each other’s throats all year, and b) that it could be either one, handwriting wise. Nothing new there. I was still working with nothing but a suspicious confession and dubious writing.

I told the principal the next day, and she thought it was hilarious.

Like I said, funny.

The principal wasn’t there the day after that, so I couldn’t talk with her about the situation. Lucky students, since neither were getting in trouble. It was the end of the day, and I was packing up, when in walked John and his mother. They were there to talk to the Math/Science teacher about grades and behavior. At first I was tempted to leave, but then realized my opportunity. Before they left, I called John over and had him write on a piece of paper “I have a dream,” a phrase that I figured would not set off any alarm bells. John did as he was asked, and I kept the paper, waiting for the principal to return.

She didn’t come back before the following Monday.

(TO BE CONT.)