The plan unfolds.
I visited an old friend’s blog recently and was amused to read his stated purpose, namely to take over the world via cyberspace. Aw, C’MON! Talk about impractical and unrealistic. In order not to strain the credulity of my readers or overload my own determined optimism, my goal is simply to subvert North America and a couple of my favorite continents…
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Great Expectations
For Discerning Readers
I don't really have time to post today. The demands of life--a canoe trip, dinner in Lawrence, KS, an exam, my wife--have swamped me. But I'd hate to leave you with nothing to read... So if you haven't already, give this crucial post a once-over. And tell me what ya think.
Filed in: Bittersweetness Writing
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Bitter Culture, Sweet News
© 2004 Arielinds Photography
I keep hearing people moaning about our general cultural decline, and lamenting the moral deficiencies of our children, our politicians, our nation, etc. My reaction to America’s cultural slide—and it’s not intended cynically, or as a political modus operandi—is a little different: What do you expect?
One reason for our current Christian subculture is a misunderstanding of bittersweetness as applied to society. As Christ observed, the setting for life, thus ministry, is the “wicked and perverse generation” in which we find ourselves, and of which perhaps we are a part (Matthew 17:17). After making his assessment, Christ did not retreat from the moral morass, horrified at the sinners around him. He did not say, “Peter, John, James…let’s build our own city, boys.”
He did say, “How long must I be with you?” (a thoroughly bittersweet response), but implicit in this question is the reality that Jesus would be with these people as long as he was on earth. Being in a wicked culture and subverting its inhabitants for Christ is a mission as exhilarating as it is imposing. Too bad so few Christians are up to it.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Cumulous Apologetic
Saw this driving home.
So how about clouds?
How do you react to a suspended bank of vapor, perforated with light, washed amber or gold on the skyline? For me, such sights are always an ethereal experience. The wonder—even awe—that descends on me is difficult to explicate.*
Care to explain me to myself? What would you say? Well, H20, in its vaporized form, undergoing a degree of solar illumination, triggers a biological reaction in our bodies…
Sure.
Give me a better clue. Maybe something like:
How do you react to a suspended bank of vapor, perforated with light, washed amber or gold on the skyline? For me, such sights are always an ethereal experience. The wonder—even awe—that descends on me is difficult to explicate.*
Care to explain me to myself? What would you say? Well, H20, in its vaporized form, undergoing a degree of solar illumination, triggers a biological reaction in our bodies…
Sure.
Give me a better clue. Maybe something like:
As golden light comes from the north,
so a terrible beauty streams from God.
- Job 37:22 (ASV/MSG)
Is there a revelatory quality in clouds and skies? I’d argue to that end...
At any rate, in explaining some phenomena, chemical formulas don’t cut it.
* Explicate. A formal version of “explain.” While you might explicate a phenomena, you would never explicate a joke. Synonyms include: interpret, spell out, expound, construe. This word appeared in association with The Vocabulary Reclamation Project.
Saturday, September 04, 2004
Friday, September 03, 2004
A Very Old, Very Classic Book
Cause' you talk of freedom, don't you see
The only freedom that you'll ever really know
Is written in books from long ago...
- Belle & Sebastian, "If You Find Yourself Caught In Love"
Generally speaking, so I have come to believe, old books are better than new ones. (As C.S. Lewis wrote, "You should at least read one old one to every three new ones.") Therefore it should come as no surprise that one of our most ancient books is the best thing we have going. And this particular title, my title, spans multiple genres. Plato was all right, but my manuscript is not pure philosophizing. Hammurabi had some things going for him, but my book isn't merely a law codex. "How to" textbooks were popular even in the Middle Ages, but my volume is no textbook.
It's sometimes mistaken for a textbook, though. Textbooks: those perennial doorstops, collegiate paperweights, whose mere acquisition has already ripped you off. (Unless you shop at Amazon...) It is puzzling to consider why people place my title in this category. How many of you have had your lives "changed" by a textbook?
For personal growth, let alone change, something more is needed from a book. A three-step dialectic or seven-step approach is unnecessary and actually insulting to the really good stuff. Good content calls for a little exploration, demands effort from the explorer--and gets it--on its own merit. So when we encounter such quality, we shouldn't expect easy "methodical comprehension." That's kid stuff. That's textbook stuff. Great authors don't write Cliff Notes. You can't summarize Tolkien's trilogy in three bullet points.
This is not to say that my classic does not inform the mind. It does. But in a thoroughly organic manner, through saturation and story, not categorization. And one could say its power is, in fact, greater than mere education. A truly great work, my classic has the ability not only to enlighten the reader, but change him. The author's scope is ambitious. Staggeringly ambitious. He aims to obliterate self-deception, "take us from behind ourselves and place us in front of ourselves."
Yes, my favorite is "strong" enough to positively alter a reader, but not through blunt trauma, verbal blows to the head. Forget the ancient Greek shockers, Ovid's Metamorphoses, The Golden Ass, and their ilk. We're in a different category. Rather, think organic change--slow and (therefore) lasting, soul-outward, subtle and subversive. This is master craftsmanship.
And fittingly so, because the author's scope is ambitious. Staggeringly ambitious. He aims to obliterate self-deception, "take us from behind ourselves and place us in front of ourselves" (Augustine). And if we conceal a delusion of grandeur in our hearts, "even there will he rake for it" (Shakespeare, Henry V). He aims for a sounding of the soul, and in the end, a massive reversal of moral and motive.
To this end, my classic melds story with psychology, sociology with theophany, poetry with philosophy, songs with war accounts. The book defies trite categorization. Law and liberty mingle, heroism clashes with devilish intent. The historical narratives, mythic-stories, landscapes and exposition in my title are striking, but their fundamental meanings must often be searched for, and often, to search for in this context is to be changed.
This is no cryptic spell book. And this is no textbook. This is a book that demands attention. This is a book that must be read.
Filed in: Books Controversy Philosophy
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Heaven's Wasted Artistry
Recently I spent considerable time writing several sets of song lyrics. (See a somewhat less-than-serious invention here.) The idea was that a friend of mine would put my words to music—a little creative collaboration. Unfortunately, as often happens with partnerships, one of the partners retracted. (It wasn’t me.)
Musing on these circumstances gave me another excuse to think about heaven—one of my favorite topics. (See Heaven Recurrence below.) I feel a certain sense of regret over my “wasted” lyrics. Obviously, all artists have an affinity for what they create, even if the results aren’t what we’d call amazing. The feeling is unavoidable. But consider the pathos if the “wasted” work was actually incredible. And there’s the analogy.
My unused lyrics raise questions. Like Why did I bother? And mainly… Why weren’t they used? God deals with such questions on an infinitely higher (and infinitely less trivial) scale. He looks at many of us with a similar feeling of query:
Why are you wasting what I gave you to use? Why do my words—my notes, my choreography, my blueprint—lie dormant? Where’s the song? Where’s the story, the dance, the building? There is no flesh on your spirit-bones!
And we, like preoccupied musicians, ignore the lyrics Christ has given us to set to music. He’s given us the essential plot of a story, but we don’t have time to read…much less enter.
Filed in: Bittersweetness Heaven Questions Stories
Mob Errand Boy, On Reporting Back to the Boss
See post above for an explanation of this apparent non sequitor.
When I gave him your summons
Over breakfast in bed
He said he’d get to it
But read Dilbert instead.
When he was reminded,
“A life’s a sad thing to waste,”
He stood on his mattress
And laughed in my face:
“The monogrammed rolodex
Was a really nice perk
And my wife, so she says,
Loves her new gator purse.
The Bentley you gave us
Is still running fine,
So is the French poodle
With better bloodlines than mine.
Thanks for pouring our champagne
Over diamonds in ice
And I’ve always liked Armani,
So the gift card was nice.
Thanks for all of the presents,
You silly, middle-aged clown,
But I’m skipping your meeting
And then I’m skipping town.
I know when the law finds me
There’ll be taxes to pay,
But taxes aren’t the certainty
I’m escaping today.
We both have been bloodstained,
We’ve both made our hits,
But remember your Dante,
A road leaves the abyss.
When there’s a debt to be paid off,
There’s a precedent for blood,
But not one drop was wasted,
And it was innocent blood.
I hope that you miss me,
I hope you age well,
If you start climbing now,
You might just get out of—”
Boss: “Did he really say all that?”
Jimmy: “Well, his lips were moving…and it sounded like his voice…”
Liked those lyrics? To see a slightly less flippant song, click here.
© 2004 Ariel Vanderhorst
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