Track 9: Faithless
I’ve got my own moral compass to steer by
A guiding star beats a spirit in the sky
And all the preaching voices
Empty vessels ring so loud
As they move among the crowd
Fools and thieves are well disguised
In the temple and marketplace
Like a stone in the river
Against the floods of spring
I will quietly resist
Like the willows in the wind
Or the cliffs along the ocean
I will quietly resist
I don’t have faith in faith
I don’t believe in belief
You can call me faithless
But I still cling to hope
And I believe in love
And that’s faith enough for me
I’ve got my own spirit level for balance
To tell if my choice is leading up or down
And all the shouting voices
Try to throw me off my course
Some by sermons, some by force
Fools and thieves are dangerous
In the temple and marketplace
Like a forest bows to winter
Beneath the deep white silence
I will quietly resist
Like a flower in the desert
That only blooms at night
I will quietly resist
From a purely literary standpoint, these lyrics are the most descriptive and poetic on the album. Neil’s bookish side is really coming out here, I believe. He employs a number of metaphors and similes that work really, really well to illustrate his message. “Like a forest bows to winter beneath the deep white silence, I will quietly resist.” Absolutely sublime.
As for the substance of the lyrics, this is clearly a reaction to the inundation of evangelical Christianity that seems to have blossomed in the years since 9/11 and encouraged by our pseudo-pious president. While I do consider myself a spiritual and even religious person, I find the lyrics to this song to be deeply relevant and meaningful.
In this day and age (and, honestly, even before 9/11), it is not okay to be an atheist, or even an agnostic, as far as mainstream culture is concerned. When something like 90% of the population professes a belief in some sort of higher power/god, I suppose this isn’t hard to imagine. That number, of course, is deceptive, because many of those who profess belief in God don’t necessarily practice organized religion, and even fewer practice evangelical religion. Still, there seems to be a distinct undercurrent of general suspicion and distrust aimed at anyone who claims not to believe in gods.
This is encouraged by many things within society. When we step onto the stand in a courtroom, we swear on a bible, as if that somehow makes our oath more rock solid (actually, I think courts may have ended this practice, but either way, it certainly has been done in the past). Our Pledge of Allegiance, and many of our patriotic songs, mention God. Our money has God’s name on it. We use phrases like “I swear to God I didn’t do it” and “What in God’s name were you thinking?” Even though most evangelicals, and even many mainstream Christians, would frown on “using God’s name in vain,” such phrases still help to reinforce the idea of an existent, theistic God in the mind of the mainstream culture.
Politicians, athletes, and other prominent people routinely bandy God’s name about. In the case of politicians in particular, it has almost become a necessity to chalk your faith in God up on your resume. It’s not only acceptable, it’s actually encouraged. I can’t tell you how many political commercials I have seen over the last few years where the candidate touts his devotion to family and faith even more than his successes in office. Can you imagine if a major candidate were to openly profess atheism? I don’t know of any who have done that, because to do so – with the possible exception of a strongly liberal district here or there – would be political suicide. I’m sure there are plenty of atheist/agnostic politicians, but they have to either ignore issues of personal faith completely, or lie. Again, mainstream culture, despite its obsession with all things materialistic, greedy, and worldly, seems to have an underlying suspicion of atheists, and would never – not in this day and age – elect an openly atheist candidate to a major office.
Is this fair? Is an atheist somehow less qualified to run the country than a person of faith? Of course not. Personal religious convictions are utterly, and in every way, irrelevant. But try telling that to the 60% of Republicans who still support Bush.
When was the last time you heard of an atheist politician, athlete, or movie star getting into trouble with the law, or committing some other act of indecency? Yet how many openly pious starlets, politicians, and athletes have we watched fall into the cesspool of immorality, not to mention countless preachers, priests, and religious leaders? Mel Gibson, that bastion of Catholic piety, comes immediately to mind, as does the guy in Denver who was the head of the national Evangelical association, and got caught whoring around with MEN. The examples, of course, could go on and on. Yet, despite that, we tend to think of atheists and agnostics as the immoral ones, the ones with no ethical code, the unscrupulous ones who live only for themselves. It’s a gross distortion of reality, and a willful attempt to discredit a perfectly creditable way of life. I am not an atheist, but I can find no fault with someone who looks at the world around them, sees a world that looks exactly as one would expect a godless world to look, sees no other evidence for gods, and therefore chooses not to have faith.
We tend to talk about atheism with “no holds barred,” but if we’re discussing religion, we are supposed to afford religious people a certain level of respect that those same religious people frequently don’t afford atheists. For instance, it’s not okay for an atheist to tell a religious person that their beliefs are akin to beliefs in fairies and genies, but evangelical religious people don’t have a problem “ministering” to the “unchurched” through an array of missionary work, from employing full time missionaries to encouraging members to “share the Good News” with people they encounter in their daily lives. Many Christian denominations even produce literature aimed at teaching members how to effectively spread the message of Jesus to the unwashed masses. I wonder how an evangelical would react if an atheist went door-to-door, attempting to convert believers to atheism by pointing out the depravity of their beliefs?
I think it’s this anti-atheist/agnostic undercurrent within mainstream society that spurred the writing of this song. “I have my own moral compass to steer by” and “I have my own spirit level for balance” are great contrasts to traditional Christian ideas of needing God to help you get through the ups and downs of life. When people suggest that they are so weak and useless that they must rely on a supernatural being that they can’t prove exists in order to face the trials of life, it really saddens me. I think this neediness that so many religious people display is strong evidence that our God is more manmade than we like to imagine. Of course, not all religious people are like this, but when you listen to televangelists and to the songs sung in church and played on Christian radio, one would think that Christians are all a bunch of emotionally needy, weak-willed individuals in dire need of some good counseling.
A Christian rock group called Caedmon’s Call has a song with the lyrics “I am thankful, that I’m incapable of doing any good on my own.” Amy Grant, during her Christian music days, had a song that included the lyrics, “I have decided that being good is just a fable. I just can’t ‘cuz I’m not able. I’m gonna leave it to the Lord.”
What?? What sort of belief system is that? I realize, of course, that it is classic Calvinist theology. But the point is: why are people drawn to religious beliefs that teach them that they are good-for-nothing, snivelling, needy sinners? And what does that say about the emotional and mental state of those people? Furthermore, what does it say about the legitimacy of their religious beliefs?
When it comes to Christian-oriented music, I think children’s songs are the worst. Even among some of the “classics,” if you really listen to what the words are saying, it’s pretty disturbing:
1. “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me so.” Nothing like teaching our children that they can “know” Jesus loves them simply because the bible tells them so. No wonder so many adults fall back to that “it says so in the bible” argument when faced with tough questions.
2. “They are weak but he is strong.” Balderdash. What a despicable thing to teach a child. But again, little wonder that so many adults end up with belief systems like the ones espoused in the above-referenced Amy Grant and Caedmon’s Call songs, when they are taught as children that they are weak and must turn to Jesus for strength.
3. “Father Abraham had many sons. I am one of them and so are you. So let’s all praise the Lord.” What?? I’m sorry, but you’re little white-ass, Mid-Western brat is NOT a son of “Father Abraham!” In fact, if you’re like many evangelicals, you believe that “Father Abraham’s” sons are all bound for hell for rejecting Jesus!! But either way, these lyrics help perpetuate the myth that we – us white-ass honky Caucasians living in North America – are somehow the “legitimate” descendents of the Jewish tradition, because the Jews rejected Jesus, and so God named us his “chosen ones” instead.
4. And then there’s the worst one of all. The following song is on a video of Bible Songs that my daughter has, and if I’m around when she’s watching it, I fast forward through it. I’m not sure what the title of the song is, but the lyrics go a little somethin’ like this: “Be careful little eyes what you see. Be careful little eyes what you see. ‘Cuz the Father up above is looking down with love, so be careful little eyes what you see.” And then “ears what you hear” and “feet where you go,” etc., etc. The contradictions and contemptible messages are rife within these verses. It’s basically “see no evil, hear no evil, otherwise God will punish you.” But it’s couched in the deceptive language of “the Father up above is looking down with love.” Yet, clearly the message of the lyrics portrays this so-called god as anything but “loving.” A sergeant-at-arms ready to pistol whip anyone who steps out of line is more like it. And, of course, there’s also the fact that the lyrics perpetuate a myth that died for most of humankind 500 years ago – that is, the idea that we live in a 3-tiered universe. Since the time of the Renaissance, we have known that heaven isn’t above us, with earth in the middle, and hell down below. We live on a round rock, circling a star, in a corner of a universe more vast than we can comprehend. If the Father is “above” and “looking down” on us, then children are forced to image God as an astronaut, in orbit around earth. I wonder if he has to use an oxygen tank? It’s amazing that despite 500 years of knowing that heaven isn’t just beyond the sky, concepts such as this can still remain so prevalent, even among many mainstream Christians who otherwise recognize that God isn’t an astronaut.
I suppose the image of God portrayed in these lyrics strikes such a negative chord with me because I grew up with a concept of God as a stern headmaster and punishing parent. I was always told “God is love,” but the image of God that I picked up from years of Sunday School and private schooling was that God was up there, watching us at every moment of our lives, ready to mark it down in his little black book if we screwed up. For that reason, I grew up a goody-goody, feeling like a sinful little wretch when I did what I thought were sinful things, like masturbating or cussing or any number of other bland, normal, and harmless actions. I went through a period when I was about 10 where I got the idea in my mind that it was a sin to look at advertisements for alcohol or cigarettes. Since our church was downtown, we took the Interstate through Louisville from the suburbs, and, of course, the Interstate was lined with billboards for liquor, beer, and every brand of cigarette known to humankind. So, during this period, I would keep my head either looking down, or looking only at the road, so as to avoid seeing the alcohol and cigarette billboards. And if I did accidentally catch a glimpse of the Marlboro Man or Jack Daniels, I would whisper a prayer of forgiveness.
Yes, this is a true story.
Getting back to the lyrics of Faithless, the chorus, I think, is the best part of the song. “You can call me faithless, but I still cling to hope. And I believe in love.” As a post-modern Christian who recognizes that medieval theology is increasingly irrelevant in this changing world, these lyrics are deeply meaningful for me. I image God as the essence of love, the force that opens the door to abundant life, and the ground of all being – the undercurrent from which all life arises. So in that sense, I definitely believe in love, and I also still cling to hope that there is more to our universe than can be observed empirically.
And that’s faith enough for me.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Hope
Track 8: Hope
Instrumental
This is a splendid little 2-minute acoustic guitar solo. It’s an excellent demonstration not only of Alex’s playing ability, but, perhaps even more so, his song-writing ability.
The song title is drawn from the chorus of the following track, Faithless, and works as a nice counterpart to that following song, emphasizing the dichotomy between a lack of religious faith, but an abundance of hope.
I think that penchant for hope is what sets apart many non-theists and agnostics from the traditional atheist. I’m sure my atheist friends would bristle at that statement, but I think it’s true, from my many discussions and debates on the subject. True atheism seems, at its core, to be devoid of any hope for the future, any hope for something grander than what we can sense with our eyes, ears, and brains. It seems empty of any hope that maybe, just maybe, there is more to reality than what we can measure empirically. It seems to give no value whatsoever to such concepts, as it deems them unknowable, and therefore irrelevant. And when you try to explain that there is no harm in hope, they don’t seem to get it, or, at least, counter with arguments like “I could hope for a million dollars to drop from the sky into my hands, but it’s so far out of the realm of possibility, it is pointless to hope for it, and will only lead to disappointment.” The problem, of course, with this argument is that hope for wider realities and the potential for an afterlife isn’t, by it’s very nature, an empirical or physical thing, like money. Furthermore, if nothing exists beyond the death of our own consciousness, there won’t be any consciousness there to be disappointed! This, more than anything else, vindicates and endorses the inherent harmlessness of hope. In addition, this sort of hope can be a tremendous support in dealing with the vagaries, difficulties, and obstacles of life. Some turn to alcohol, some turn to nicotine or caffeine, some become co-dependent, and some turn to anti-depressants. But some turn to hope.
Instrumental
This is a splendid little 2-minute acoustic guitar solo. It’s an excellent demonstration not only of Alex’s playing ability, but, perhaps even more so, his song-writing ability.
The song title is drawn from the chorus of the following track, Faithless, and works as a nice counterpart to that following song, emphasizing the dichotomy between a lack of religious faith, but an abundance of hope.
I think that penchant for hope is what sets apart many non-theists and agnostics from the traditional atheist. I’m sure my atheist friends would bristle at that statement, but I think it’s true, from my many discussions and debates on the subject. True atheism seems, at its core, to be devoid of any hope for the future, any hope for something grander than what we can sense with our eyes, ears, and brains. It seems empty of any hope that maybe, just maybe, there is more to reality than what we can measure empirically. It seems to give no value whatsoever to such concepts, as it deems them unknowable, and therefore irrelevant. And when you try to explain that there is no harm in hope, they don’t seem to get it, or, at least, counter with arguments like “I could hope for a million dollars to drop from the sky into my hands, but it’s so far out of the realm of possibility, it is pointless to hope for it, and will only lead to disappointment.” The problem, of course, with this argument is that hope for wider realities and the potential for an afterlife isn’t, by it’s very nature, an empirical or physical thing, like money. Furthermore, if nothing exists beyond the death of our own consciousness, there won’t be any consciousness there to be disappointed! This, more than anything else, vindicates and endorses the inherent harmlessness of hope. In addition, this sort of hope can be a tremendous support in dealing with the vagaries, difficulties, and obstacles of life. Some turn to alcohol, some turn to nicotine or caffeine, some become co-dependent, and some turn to anti-depressants. But some turn to hope.
Monday, July 23, 2007
James Rollins
I'm taking a short break from my blogs about Rush's new album to post this:
See the link over there to the left of the screen, under Literary Resources, directing you to the website of James Rollins? Well, Rollins is one of my favorite thriller writers and I’ve basically been following him since the beginning of his writing career. I first discovered him on the bookshelf at Barnes & Noble, shortly after the publication of his second book. At that time, he was just writing paperback thrillers – he wasn’t even publishing in hardback yet. I was so intrigued by his two books on the shelf that I decided to buy them both, despite having never read any of his stuff prior to that, nor having ever even heard of him. Well, I loved the two books, and have been buying his novels upon release ever since then. He’s one of the very few authors whose books I have been reading since more or less the beginning of his career (along with co-authors Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, and Steve Berry).
ANYWAY, I got onto my Yahoo! email account last week to check for any stray messages I may have received. I don’t check that account very often anymore, because I use Gmail, but I still receive a few author updates there, as well as weekly statistics on my blog site visit counter. I hadn’t checked it in well over a month, but I had a few extra minutes on Tuesday, so I popped on there to see if anything had come through. In addition to several weeks’ worth of blog statistic emails, as well as a bunch of Spam, I had a mass email from James Rollins, letting all his readers know that his new book was coming out. I’ve emailed with him several times in the past, and if you email him, he adds you to his address book.
ANYWAY, so there was a link at the bottom of the email to his book signing tour. I decided to check it out, just in case he was going to be anywhere close. I was surprised to find that he was going to be in Dayton the very next day. I don’t have class on Wednesday, so I briefly considered driving up to Dayton to be at the book signing. After deciding that was probably unreasonable, I scrolled on down to see where else he was going. Lo and behold, he was going to be in Lexington the day after Dayton, at Joseph Beth Booksellers (which frequently has big name writers there to sign books – they’ve had everyone from Stephen King to Anne Rice to Jimmy Carter).
So on Thursday, I left class early and headed over to Joseph Beth. He was already speaking when I arrived, and I sat down next to an empty chair that had water dripping into it from the ceiling (it’s a vaulted ceiling, probably 100 feet high, with glass on top, and the rain was dripping from all the way up there, down two levels, and hitting the chair beside me). There were about 15 people there listening to him, including a couple of employees. Rollins talked for another 30 minutes or so after I got there, ending with a Q&A session. I found him to be personable with a good sense of humor. Seemed very much like just a regular guy. At the end, he signed books, and I was pleased to discover that he recognized my name when I told him who I was. As I said above, I’ve emailed with him a number of times in the past, although it’s probably been a year or two since our last exchange. I believe our last conversation entailed a discussion of Matt Reilly (another thriller writer, whose stuff I really, really detest). We’ve also talked in the past about the publishing industry and finding an agent, etc. He’s always seemed very nice and forthcoming by email, and he seemed the same way in real life.
So anyway, that was my big adventure of Thursday night. That’s the first author book signing I’ve ever attended, and it was nice to finally meet a favorite author in the flesh and get the chance to speak to him for a few moments. And his new book looks very promising too – it’s called The Judas Strain and it deals with ancient Jewish mystical symbology. I’ll be sure to report on it once I’ve read it.
See the link over there to the left of the screen, under Literary Resources, directing you to the website of James Rollins? Well, Rollins is one of my favorite thriller writers and I’ve basically been following him since the beginning of his writing career. I first discovered him on the bookshelf at Barnes & Noble, shortly after the publication of his second book. At that time, he was just writing paperback thrillers – he wasn’t even publishing in hardback yet. I was so intrigued by his two books on the shelf that I decided to buy them both, despite having never read any of his stuff prior to that, nor having ever even heard of him. Well, I loved the two books, and have been buying his novels upon release ever since then. He’s one of the very few authors whose books I have been reading since more or less the beginning of his career (along with co-authors Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, and Steve Berry).
ANYWAY, I got onto my Yahoo! email account last week to check for any stray messages I may have received. I don’t check that account very often anymore, because I use Gmail, but I still receive a few author updates there, as well as weekly statistics on my blog site visit counter. I hadn’t checked it in well over a month, but I had a few extra minutes on Tuesday, so I popped on there to see if anything had come through. In addition to several weeks’ worth of blog statistic emails, as well as a bunch of Spam, I had a mass email from James Rollins, letting all his readers know that his new book was coming out. I’ve emailed with him several times in the past, and if you email him, he adds you to his address book.
ANYWAY, so there was a link at the bottom of the email to his book signing tour. I decided to check it out, just in case he was going to be anywhere close. I was surprised to find that he was going to be in Dayton the very next day. I don’t have class on Wednesday, so I briefly considered driving up to Dayton to be at the book signing. After deciding that was probably unreasonable, I scrolled on down to see where else he was going. Lo and behold, he was going to be in Lexington the day after Dayton, at Joseph Beth Booksellers (which frequently has big name writers there to sign books – they’ve had everyone from Stephen King to Anne Rice to Jimmy Carter).
So on Thursday, I left class early and headed over to Joseph Beth. He was already speaking when I arrived, and I sat down next to an empty chair that had water dripping into it from the ceiling (it’s a vaulted ceiling, probably 100 feet high, with glass on top, and the rain was dripping from all the way up there, down two levels, and hitting the chair beside me). There were about 15 people there listening to him, including a couple of employees. Rollins talked for another 30 minutes or so after I got there, ending with a Q&A session. I found him to be personable with a good sense of humor. Seemed very much like just a regular guy. At the end, he signed books, and I was pleased to discover that he recognized my name when I told him who I was. As I said above, I’ve emailed with him a number of times in the past, although it’s probably been a year or two since our last exchange. I believe our last conversation entailed a discussion of Matt Reilly (another thriller writer, whose stuff I really, really detest). We’ve also talked in the past about the publishing industry and finding an agent, etc. He’s always seemed very nice and forthcoming by email, and he seemed the same way in real life.
So anyway, that was my big adventure of Thursday night. That’s the first author book signing I’ve ever attended, and it was nice to finally meet a favorite author in the flesh and get the chance to speak to him for a few moments. And his new book looks very promising too – it’s called The Judas Strain and it deals with ancient Jewish mystical symbology. I’ll be sure to report on it once I’ve read it.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Way the Wind Blows
Track 7: The Way the Wind Blows
Now it’s come to this
It’s like we’re back in the Dark Ages
From the Middle East to the Middle West
It’s a world of superstition
Now it’s come to this
Wide-eyed armies of the faithful
From the Middle East to the Middle West
Pray, and pass the ammunition
So many people think that way
You got to watch what you say
To them and them, and others too
Who don’t seem to see things the way you do
We can only grow the way the wind blows
On a bare and weathered shore
We can only bow to the here and now
In our elemental war
We can only grow the way the wind blows
We can only bow to the here and now
Or be broken down blow by blow
Now it’s come to this
Hollow speeches of mass deception
From the Middle East to the Middle West
Like crusaders in unholy alliance
Now it’s come to this
Like we’re back in the Dark Ages
From the Middle East to the Middle West
It’s a plague that resists all science
It seems to leave them partly blind
And they leave no child behind
While evil spirits haunt their sleep
While shepherds bless and count their sheep
Like the solitary pine
On a bare wind-blasted shore
We can only grow the way the wind blows
In our elemental war
On an album where no song is worse than an 8 out of 10, The Way the Wind Blows is my favorite. The music is sublime, mixing elements of progressive rock with traditional blues rock, and the lyrics are deeply relevant and rife with apt metaphors and double entendres.
It is like we’re back in the Dark Ages. Muslim fanatics on one side, Christian fanatics on the other, both praying to their god to give them the ultimate victory, both believing whole-heartedly that their god will give them the ultimate victory, and both interpreting any success as evidence of their god’s pleasure and involvement. Pray, and pass the ammunition.
Recently, I saw a bumper sticker I had never seen before on a minivan. It had a stickman image on its knees, head bowed, and it said “Prayer changes stuff.”
Indeed, it’s a world of superstition.
I love the double entendre in the line “Wide-eyed armies of the faithful.” It’s a reference both to “God’s Army” as well as the largely brainwashed men and women of the armed forces who think they’re doing something valuable for the world. That’s not meant as an all encompassing slam against soldiers – a country needs a standing army, obviously, and I don’t doubt that many of our soldiers are brave, intelligent people – but it never ceases to amaze me all the young people who are still, to this day, signing up to go be the pawn of a group of medieval-thinking white men in Washington. Then again, 60% of Republicans still support Bush, so what does that tell you? It’s quite unheard of for 40% of a sitting president’s own party to part with him, and that’s more or less evidence of the political suicide that Bush has committed, but it’s the remaining 60% that still shocks me. I was encouraged, at least, last week when I saw that recent polls show more than 50% of the country would support impeachment proceedings against Bush, but we all know that isn’t going to happen, regardless.
And how about that phrase “Hollow speeches of mass deception.” I didn’t pick up on it when I first read the lyrics, but that’s a wonderful little stab at “weapons of mass destruction.” What a mass deception that has turned out to be (not that those of us with any sense at all didn’t recognize it as a deception from the very beginning).
“It’s a plague that resists all science.” “Plague” is a perfect word there. During the Bush years, we have seen everything from a willful attempt to degrade our earth’s environment, to a rejection of valuable medical technology that promises immense benefit for controlling and curing a wide range of diseases. And the latter, of course, is all in the name of wide-eyed superstitious religious beliefs. If I had to name what I feel is the most degrading, disreputable, and despicable legacy of Bush’s domestic policy, it is his stance and legislation on stem cell research. Great strides are being made in other countries, using stem cells to treat and cure disease, and meanwhile the far and away largest resource for stem cell research – the United States – sits idly by with their restrictive laws borne from willful blindness, pseudo-pious hogwash, and medieval belief systems. It is, in every sense of the word, a true tragedy, and the victims are us. You and me.
The only thing I disagree with in the song is that last stanza that starts “It seems to leave them partly blind.” I’ll give Neil the benefit of trying to make the lyrics fit the music, but “they” are anything but “partly” blind. It’s complete and total blindness. And, of course, the line “And they leave no child behind” is another great stab at a misguided, deceptive, and despicable domestic policy of the Bush administration. It’s also another great play on words, as it also refers to how these people brainwash their children, leaving them to grow up with the same twisted world view as their own.
And finally, the line “While shepherds bless and count their sheep” is another great double entendre, referencing, obviously, the Christian concept of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, caring for his flock, his sheep. But it also plays on the idea of the religious and political leaders taking care of their own supporters and counting the sheep who blindly follow them to slaughter.
Yesterday, I saw another bumper sticker (actually, two on the same car) that I think are relevant to this blog post. The stickers were on a beat up green Nissan pick-up truck. At one point, as I was behind the truck, the passenger threw an empty can into the bed, and I’m pretty certain it was a beer can. Anyway, on one side of the tailgate was a bumper sticker with a Confederate flag, stating “THE SOUTH WAS RIGHT!” On the other side of the tailgate was another bumper sticker, with another Confederate flag, stating “I don’t need YOUR permission to honor MY ancestors.” Clearly this was a stab at those “crazy liberals” who have fought against government buildings and properties flying Confederate flags. What this person was saying, in effect, is that slavery is okay, the North should have left the South alone, and flying Confederate flags today is a perfectly reasonable way to honor those who kept human slaves, sent the country into a 4-year civil war, cost millions of people their lives, created a 100+ year legacy of racial tension for their descendants to deal with, and left the country bankrupt, torn, and in shambles for decades to come. I wonder if this person would make the same argument if an American of German descent flew a Nazi flag in order to “honor” his ancestors? What honor is there in displaying a flag that stands for murder, enslavement, economic destruction, and anti-American principles? “So many people think that way, you gotta watch what you say.”
And who do you think this person – who no doubt considers himself a patriotic American – voted for in 2000 and 2004? I’ll give you one guess.
It’s like we’re back in the Dark Ages.
Now it’s come to this
It’s like we’re back in the Dark Ages
From the Middle East to the Middle West
It’s a world of superstition
Now it’s come to this
Wide-eyed armies of the faithful
From the Middle East to the Middle West
Pray, and pass the ammunition
So many people think that way
You got to watch what you say
To them and them, and others too
Who don’t seem to see things the way you do
We can only grow the way the wind blows
On a bare and weathered shore
We can only bow to the here and now
In our elemental war
We can only grow the way the wind blows
We can only bow to the here and now
Or be broken down blow by blow
Now it’s come to this
Hollow speeches of mass deception
From the Middle East to the Middle West
Like crusaders in unholy alliance
Now it’s come to this
Like we’re back in the Dark Ages
From the Middle East to the Middle West
It’s a plague that resists all science
It seems to leave them partly blind
And they leave no child behind
While evil spirits haunt their sleep
While shepherds bless and count their sheep
Like the solitary pine
On a bare wind-blasted shore
We can only grow the way the wind blows
In our elemental war
On an album where no song is worse than an 8 out of 10, The Way the Wind Blows is my favorite. The music is sublime, mixing elements of progressive rock with traditional blues rock, and the lyrics are deeply relevant and rife with apt metaphors and double entendres.
It is like we’re back in the Dark Ages. Muslim fanatics on one side, Christian fanatics on the other, both praying to their god to give them the ultimate victory, both believing whole-heartedly that their god will give them the ultimate victory, and both interpreting any success as evidence of their god’s pleasure and involvement. Pray, and pass the ammunition.
Recently, I saw a bumper sticker I had never seen before on a minivan. It had a stickman image on its knees, head bowed, and it said “Prayer changes stuff.”
Indeed, it’s a world of superstition.
I love the double entendre in the line “Wide-eyed armies of the faithful.” It’s a reference both to “God’s Army” as well as the largely brainwashed men and women of the armed forces who think they’re doing something valuable for the world. That’s not meant as an all encompassing slam against soldiers – a country needs a standing army, obviously, and I don’t doubt that many of our soldiers are brave, intelligent people – but it never ceases to amaze me all the young people who are still, to this day, signing up to go be the pawn of a group of medieval-thinking white men in Washington. Then again, 60% of Republicans still support Bush, so what does that tell you? It’s quite unheard of for 40% of a sitting president’s own party to part with him, and that’s more or less evidence of the political suicide that Bush has committed, but it’s the remaining 60% that still shocks me. I was encouraged, at least, last week when I saw that recent polls show more than 50% of the country would support impeachment proceedings against Bush, but we all know that isn’t going to happen, regardless.
And how about that phrase “Hollow speeches of mass deception.” I didn’t pick up on it when I first read the lyrics, but that’s a wonderful little stab at “weapons of mass destruction.” What a mass deception that has turned out to be (not that those of us with any sense at all didn’t recognize it as a deception from the very beginning).
“It’s a plague that resists all science.” “Plague” is a perfect word there. During the Bush years, we have seen everything from a willful attempt to degrade our earth’s environment, to a rejection of valuable medical technology that promises immense benefit for controlling and curing a wide range of diseases. And the latter, of course, is all in the name of wide-eyed superstitious religious beliefs. If I had to name what I feel is the most degrading, disreputable, and despicable legacy of Bush’s domestic policy, it is his stance and legislation on stem cell research. Great strides are being made in other countries, using stem cells to treat and cure disease, and meanwhile the far and away largest resource for stem cell research – the United States – sits idly by with their restrictive laws borne from willful blindness, pseudo-pious hogwash, and medieval belief systems. It is, in every sense of the word, a true tragedy, and the victims are us. You and me.
The only thing I disagree with in the song is that last stanza that starts “It seems to leave them partly blind.” I’ll give Neil the benefit of trying to make the lyrics fit the music, but “they” are anything but “partly” blind. It’s complete and total blindness. And, of course, the line “And they leave no child behind” is another great stab at a misguided, deceptive, and despicable domestic policy of the Bush administration. It’s also another great play on words, as it also refers to how these people brainwash their children, leaving them to grow up with the same twisted world view as their own.
And finally, the line “While shepherds bless and count their sheep” is another great double entendre, referencing, obviously, the Christian concept of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, caring for his flock, his sheep. But it also plays on the idea of the religious and political leaders taking care of their own supporters and counting the sheep who blindly follow them to slaughter.
Yesterday, I saw another bumper sticker (actually, two on the same car) that I think are relevant to this blog post. The stickers were on a beat up green Nissan pick-up truck. At one point, as I was behind the truck, the passenger threw an empty can into the bed, and I’m pretty certain it was a beer can. Anyway, on one side of the tailgate was a bumper sticker with a Confederate flag, stating “THE SOUTH WAS RIGHT!” On the other side of the tailgate was another bumper sticker, with another Confederate flag, stating “I don’t need YOUR permission to honor MY ancestors.” Clearly this was a stab at those “crazy liberals” who have fought against government buildings and properties flying Confederate flags. What this person was saying, in effect, is that slavery is okay, the North should have left the South alone, and flying Confederate flags today is a perfectly reasonable way to honor those who kept human slaves, sent the country into a 4-year civil war, cost millions of people their lives, created a 100+ year legacy of racial tension for their descendants to deal with, and left the country bankrupt, torn, and in shambles for decades to come. I wonder if this person would make the same argument if an American of German descent flew a Nazi flag in order to “honor” his ancestors? What honor is there in displaying a flag that stands for murder, enslavement, economic destruction, and anti-American principles? “So many people think that way, you gotta watch what you say.”
And who do you think this person – who no doubt considers himself a patriotic American – voted for in 2000 and 2004? I’ll give you one guess.
It’s like we’re back in the Dark Ages.
Monday, July 09, 2007
The Main Monkey Business
Track 6: The Main Monkey Business
Instrumental
How will I blog about the lyrics to an instrumental, you ask? Like this:
I heard or read somewhere that the title of this song came from Geddy’s Jewish mother. It was either Geddy’s parents or grandparents who were in concentration camps in World War II (I think it was his parents). Upon being liberated by the Allies, their initial questions centered around whether or not they and their comrades were the only ones left alive in the world. Without any news for the years that they were incarcerated, they had come to fear that perhaps the war had been an Armageddon-type battle, in which the world’s population was decimated. Rush recorded a song about it in the 1980’s called Red Sector A, which includes the lyrics: “Are we the last one’s left alive? Are we the only human beings to survive? I hear the sound of gunfire at the prison gate. Are the liberators here? Do I hope or do I fear? For my father and my brother, it’s too late. But I must help my mother stand up straight.”
Anyway, back to the song at hand, Geddy’s mother was evidently flustered about something, and Geddy asked her what she was talking about, and she said, “All this monkey business!” Geddy responded, “What monkey business?” And his mother said, “You know, the main monkey business!”
Ah, that clears it up. Thanks, Ma.
Oy vey.
For me, the main monkey business is that which takes place in the pulpits, pews, and classrooms of American churches every Sunday morning. This past weekend, Melanie and I went to church with the kids, and we went to Sunday School. The class is studying a series of lessons right now from 1st and 2nd Samuel. There is an accompanying booklet, which states that it draws lessons from the writings of several Baptist leaders, one of which is Ken Chaffin. Chaffin was interim pastor for a period of time in the 1980’s at Walnut Street Baptist Church, in Louisville, when I was a kid attending there. He was also a former senior pastor of South Main Baptist Church in Houston, where my parents attended in the 1990’s (before Home Depot became their Sunday morning ritual). Additionally, he was a big donator to my alma mater, Georgetown College, and his name is one of only three on the front of the Learning Resource Center, which was completed in 1998. He died several years back, but he was a wonderful liberal Southern Baptist voice, spending most of the last part of his life fighting the fundamentalist takeover of the denomination he had devoted his life to.
Anyway, after seeing his name on the study booklet, I was disappointed to discover that the content of the lessons did not ring of the Ken Chaffin I know at all. As I said, the lessons were said to be “from the writings” of Chaffin and several others. Clearly it was those several others whose writings influenced the primary theology of the lessons.
This week’s lesson was on David and Goliath. It was chock full of the typical, shallow, “let’s not get too awfully deep,” adult Southern Baptist Sunday School drivel, and its conclusions, like most traditional concepts of Christianity, were irrelevant, hypocritical, and full of contradictions.
David, the lesson told us, trusted in God, when all the other Hebrews had forsaken God. David, the lesson told us, believed in God’s power to help him slay the enemy. David, the lesson told us, refused to allow the Philistines to slander God’s name. David, the lesson told us, slaughtered Goliath in the name of God.
Ah, the wonders of a God of mercy, love, and compassion, who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Sounds like a bunch of monkey business to me.
Instrumental
How will I blog about the lyrics to an instrumental, you ask? Like this:
I heard or read somewhere that the title of this song came from Geddy’s Jewish mother. It was either Geddy’s parents or grandparents who were in concentration camps in World War II (I think it was his parents). Upon being liberated by the Allies, their initial questions centered around whether or not they and their comrades were the only ones left alive in the world. Without any news for the years that they were incarcerated, they had come to fear that perhaps the war had been an Armageddon-type battle, in which the world’s population was decimated. Rush recorded a song about it in the 1980’s called Red Sector A, which includes the lyrics: “Are we the last one’s left alive? Are we the only human beings to survive? I hear the sound of gunfire at the prison gate. Are the liberators here? Do I hope or do I fear? For my father and my brother, it’s too late. But I must help my mother stand up straight.”
Anyway, back to the song at hand, Geddy’s mother was evidently flustered about something, and Geddy asked her what she was talking about, and she said, “All this monkey business!” Geddy responded, “What monkey business?” And his mother said, “You know, the main monkey business!”
Ah, that clears it up. Thanks, Ma.
Oy vey.
For me, the main monkey business is that which takes place in the pulpits, pews, and classrooms of American churches every Sunday morning. This past weekend, Melanie and I went to church with the kids, and we went to Sunday School. The class is studying a series of lessons right now from 1st and 2nd Samuel. There is an accompanying booklet, which states that it draws lessons from the writings of several Baptist leaders, one of which is Ken Chaffin. Chaffin was interim pastor for a period of time in the 1980’s at Walnut Street Baptist Church, in Louisville, when I was a kid attending there. He was also a former senior pastor of South Main Baptist Church in Houston, where my parents attended in the 1990’s (before Home Depot became their Sunday morning ritual). Additionally, he was a big donator to my alma mater, Georgetown College, and his name is one of only three on the front of the Learning Resource Center, which was completed in 1998. He died several years back, but he was a wonderful liberal Southern Baptist voice, spending most of the last part of his life fighting the fundamentalist takeover of the denomination he had devoted his life to.
Anyway, after seeing his name on the study booklet, I was disappointed to discover that the content of the lessons did not ring of the Ken Chaffin I know at all. As I said, the lessons were said to be “from the writings” of Chaffin and several others. Clearly it was those several others whose writings influenced the primary theology of the lessons.
This week’s lesson was on David and Goliath. It was chock full of the typical, shallow, “let’s not get too awfully deep,” adult Southern Baptist Sunday School drivel, and its conclusions, like most traditional concepts of Christianity, were irrelevant, hypocritical, and full of contradictions.
David, the lesson told us, trusted in God, when all the other Hebrews had forsaken God. David, the lesson told us, believed in God’s power to help him slay the enemy. David, the lesson told us, refused to allow the Philistines to slander God’s name. David, the lesson told us, slaughtered Goliath in the name of God.
Ah, the wonders of a God of mercy, love, and compassion, who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Sounds like a bunch of monkey business to me.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Spindrift
Track 5: Spindrift
As the waves crash in on the western shore
The wind blows fierce from the east
The wave tops torn into a flying spindrift
As the waves crash in on the western shore
It makes me feel uneasy
The spray that’s drawn away
Is an image of the way I feel
As the sun goes down on the western shore
The wind blows hard from the east
It whips the sand into a flying spindrift
As the sun goes down on the western shore
It makes me feel uneasy
In the hot dry rasp of the devil winds
Who cares what a fool believes
What am I supposed to say
Where are the words to answer you
When you talk that way
Words that fly against the wind and waves
A little closer to you
Where is the wave that will carry me
What am I supposed to do
Where are the words that will make you see
What I believe is true
Admittedly, the words to this song confuse me a little bit. Neil seems clearly to be discussing relationship issues and the various emotions and feelings that exist between loved ones, but it is not clear exactly just what he is talking about. Maybe he meant for it to be ambiguous. Perhaps, as I think someone offhandedly commented on the Rush Message Board, Neil just “had a fight with his ho” and wrote a song about it.
Relationships are hard, especially for people like me who are natural introverts and loners. I’m not such a loner that I don’t want any human contact at all, and I certainly don’t think I’d be happy living alone for the rest of my life, as some people do, but I like plenty of alone time and plenty of space, and I don’t need big doses of face-to-face “together” time in order to feel happy and content in a relationship. Unfortunately, my wife is almost my polar opposite on this front. She doesn’t know what to do with herself when she doesn’t have anyone around to talk to or interact with. She seeks together time in relationships, face-to-face time, intimate talks, physical touch, etc. So our relationship is a constant balancing act – her giving me my space and free time, and me attempting to give her the together, face-to-face time that she needs. It’s not easy.
I think that last stanza really sums up adequately how a lot of people, myself included, approach relationships and debates/arguments. “Where are the words that will make you see what I believe is true?” This hits home especially for me, as I feel like I am constantly battling and debating with friends, relatives, and my spouse, over everything from religion to politics to whose turn it is to change the diapers. We all try to find the words to make the other person understand that we hold the truth. And the “spindrift” is created from these battling truths. Whose truth is the real truth?
Of course, there is also another side to this issue. Sometimes we do, in fact, know that what we know is true. For instance, I may know that I have washed the dishes five times in the last week, no matter how much my spouse argues that I haven’t helped around the house. I may know, through experience, that many Southern Baptist churches are anti-homosexual, even if a Southern Baptist believer tries to argue otherwise. I may know, through experience, that insurance companies are just as sleezy and self-serving as the lazy, pseudo-injured car accident victims who sue them, even if someone else wants to argue that frivolous lawsuits are ruining America. The point is, sometimes we do know what we know, and at those times, it can be extremely frustrating to find the words to make others see that what we are saying is true.
There is one other way to interpret that last line, however. Instead of interpreting it as “How can I make you understand that what I am telling you is true,” it can be read as “How can I make you see what, I believe, is true.” In other words, “I believe this thing is true – how do I make you see that?” It’s not quite so adamant and closed to other opinions. I “believe” this is true, and I want to share that with you. That’s a far cry (excuse the pun) from “My beliefs are true, and I need to convince you of that.”
Of course, this is just philosophical babbling, but it’s important to realize that most people go into debates/arguments believing they hold the truth. One thing I have learned is that if I can give a little leeway to the other person, listen a little deeper, not sit there preparing my counter-response as the other person is talking, I can find that perhaps my own perspective isn’t always right, or, at the very least, perhaps there are other avenues I had not otherwise considered, which might alter or amend my point of view. Too many people, I believe, are unwilling to consider that they might be wrong on a certain topic, whether mundane or imminently important. In his book “Anger: Wisdom on Cooling the Flames,” Thich Nhat Hanh says that most anger comes from wrong perception. In fact, he said that we should not consider any of our perceptions as unassailable. He suggests putting a sign on the wall of your bedroom or office that says “Are you sure?” in order to remind yourself that perceptions, while frequently relied upon by default, are also frequently wrong.
Listening with openness, and letting go of what we believe are unassailable perceptions, is extremely difficult, but it is an invaluable and highly respectable trait. I’m not very good at it, but I am trying.
As the waves crash in on the western shore
The wind blows fierce from the east
The wave tops torn into a flying spindrift
As the waves crash in on the western shore
It makes me feel uneasy
The spray that’s drawn away
Is an image of the way I feel
As the sun goes down on the western shore
The wind blows hard from the east
It whips the sand into a flying spindrift
As the sun goes down on the western shore
It makes me feel uneasy
In the hot dry rasp of the devil winds
Who cares what a fool believes
What am I supposed to say
Where are the words to answer you
When you talk that way
Words that fly against the wind and waves
A little closer to you
Where is the wave that will carry me
What am I supposed to do
Where are the words that will make you see
What I believe is true
Admittedly, the words to this song confuse me a little bit. Neil seems clearly to be discussing relationship issues and the various emotions and feelings that exist between loved ones, but it is not clear exactly just what he is talking about. Maybe he meant for it to be ambiguous. Perhaps, as I think someone offhandedly commented on the Rush Message Board, Neil just “had a fight with his ho” and wrote a song about it.
Relationships are hard, especially for people like me who are natural introverts and loners. I’m not such a loner that I don’t want any human contact at all, and I certainly don’t think I’d be happy living alone for the rest of my life, as some people do, but I like plenty of alone time and plenty of space, and I don’t need big doses of face-to-face “together” time in order to feel happy and content in a relationship. Unfortunately, my wife is almost my polar opposite on this front. She doesn’t know what to do with herself when she doesn’t have anyone around to talk to or interact with. She seeks together time in relationships, face-to-face time, intimate talks, physical touch, etc. So our relationship is a constant balancing act – her giving me my space and free time, and me attempting to give her the together, face-to-face time that she needs. It’s not easy.
I think that last stanza really sums up adequately how a lot of people, myself included, approach relationships and debates/arguments. “Where are the words that will make you see what I believe is true?” This hits home especially for me, as I feel like I am constantly battling and debating with friends, relatives, and my spouse, over everything from religion to politics to whose turn it is to change the diapers. We all try to find the words to make the other person understand that we hold the truth. And the “spindrift” is created from these battling truths. Whose truth is the real truth?
Of course, there is also another side to this issue. Sometimes we do, in fact, know that what we know is true. For instance, I may know that I have washed the dishes five times in the last week, no matter how much my spouse argues that I haven’t helped around the house. I may know, through experience, that many Southern Baptist churches are anti-homosexual, even if a Southern Baptist believer tries to argue otherwise. I may know, through experience, that insurance companies are just as sleezy and self-serving as the lazy, pseudo-injured car accident victims who sue them, even if someone else wants to argue that frivolous lawsuits are ruining America. The point is, sometimes we do know what we know, and at those times, it can be extremely frustrating to find the words to make others see that what we are saying is true.
There is one other way to interpret that last line, however. Instead of interpreting it as “How can I make you understand that what I am telling you is true,” it can be read as “How can I make you see what, I believe, is true.” In other words, “I believe this thing is true – how do I make you see that?” It’s not quite so adamant and closed to other opinions. I “believe” this is true, and I want to share that with you. That’s a far cry (excuse the pun) from “My beliefs are true, and I need to convince you of that.”
Of course, this is just philosophical babbling, but it’s important to realize that most people go into debates/arguments believing they hold the truth. One thing I have learned is that if I can give a little leeway to the other person, listen a little deeper, not sit there preparing my counter-response as the other person is talking, I can find that perhaps my own perspective isn’t always right, or, at the very least, perhaps there are other avenues I had not otherwise considered, which might alter or amend my point of view. Too many people, I believe, are unwilling to consider that they might be wrong on a certain topic, whether mundane or imminently important. In his book “Anger: Wisdom on Cooling the Flames,” Thich Nhat Hanh says that most anger comes from wrong perception. In fact, he said that we should not consider any of our perceptions as unassailable. He suggests putting a sign on the wall of your bedroom or office that says “Are you sure?” in order to remind yourself that perceptions, while frequently relied upon by default, are also frequently wrong.
Listening with openness, and letting go of what we believe are unassailable perceptions, is extremely difficult, but it is an invaluable and highly respectable trait. I’m not very good at it, but I am trying.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The Larger Bowl
Track 4: The Larger Bowl (a pantoum)
If we’re so much the same like I always hear
Why such different fortunes and fates
Some of us live in a cloud of fear
Some live behind iron gates
Why such different fortunes and fates
Some are blessed and some are cursed
Some live behind iron gates
While others see only the worst
Some are blessed and some are cursed
The Golden One or scarred from birth
While others only see the worst
Such a lot of pain on the earth
The Golden One or scarred from birth
Some things can never be changed
Such a lot of pain on this earth
It’s somehow so badly arranged
Some things can never be changed
Some reasons will never come clear
It’s somehow so badly arranged
If we’re so much the same like I always hear
This is a great song. Despite that, it is one of the most “un-Rush” songs that Rush has ever recorded, in my opinion (right up there with Tears, Rivendell, and Losing It). The subtitle, “a pantoum,” is a reference to the poetic style employed in the lyrics. A pantoum is a series of 4-verse stanzas in which the second and fourth verses of the previous stanza become the first and third verses of the next stanza. In a song, it makes for a really nice, lilting, circular feel, and in this case, it manages to pass on an important philosophical message, too.
Clearly the lyrics are waxing philosophical about the nature of “good and bad” and how some people seem to have all the luck, while others are “scarred from birth.” These things, the lyrics suggest, are the bad side effects of “different fortunes and fates.”
I was thinking the other day about the line: “It’s somehow so badly arranged.” I didn’t catch it at first, but this seems to me to be a direct response to theistic ideas about God being in control and all the known universe being intelligently designed. For a supernatural deity who designed all the intricacies and mysteries of life, intelligence, and the universe, he sure botched the whole “fortunes and fates” thing. But I suppose that’s where the theists bring up their “fallen world but saved through faith” arguments (if they can be called “arguments”).
And yet, like so many of Neil’s lyrics, I can see an alternate interpretation, one with a little more hope, a little more compassion. “If we’re so much the same like I always hear, why such different fortunes and fates?” “It’s somehow so badly arranged, if we’re so much the same like I always hear.” By saying “If we’re so much the same like I always hear,” the line seems to have an ironic tone. “Oh yeah, we’re so much the same? Prove it.” It’s like a challenge. A challenge and a suggestion that it’s up to us to change our fortunes and fates, and to help elicit positive change for others in our homes, our cities, and our world. Some are scarred from birth while others live behind iron gates – it’s our responsibility to change that, to work toward equality on all levels, to tear down the iron gates that separate the “blessed” from the “cursed.”
This week is the beginning of a new quarter at school for me, and Tuesday I had my first class in Career Development. It’s basically a class that teaches us how to write a good resume and how to interview. Anyway, we spent most of the first class discussing our best and worst job experiences. One girl, who looked to me to be Hawaiian or Filipino – Pacific Islander, one way or the other – told of an incident she had while working in a store where a customer refused to let her help him, telling one of her co-workers that he didn’t want that “nigger bitch” helping him. Naturally, the first inclination is outrage, disgust, and ire that someone could say such a thing and believe that way, and those same feelings are directed to the individual himself. Yet – and I think this relates back to the lesson that can be drawn from the lyrics to The Larger Bowl – when you step back and think deeply on the situation, you recognize that this person, like all of us, was born innocent. No one is born a racist, a murderer, or a child molester. We are born innocent, and we become racists, murderers, liberals, conservatives, peace activists, or soldiers based on our own inherent nature and how that nature causes us to react to the environment, upbringing, and culture we are given. The individual in the story above was not born a racist. He learned to be a racist through experience, upbringing, and, no doubt, a lot of poor influences.
This is not to say, of course, that people should not be held responsible, and called to the floor, for racist beliefs, violent tendencies, anger issues, or any of a hundred other negative and damaging personality traits. But it is important to recognize that we are all born innocent, and but for a tweak in brain chemistry here, or a change in upbringing and/or culture there, it might be us standing in the store, calling someone of South Pacific heritage a “nigger bitch.” Seeing deeply in this manner helps us to develop compassion and understanding.
“If we’re so much the same like I always hear, why such different fortunes and fates?” It is up to us to elicit positive change in the world, by recognizing the inherent innocence of all people and by seeing through to the human side of life, and using that understanding to work for peace, equality, love, and compassion.
If we’re so much the same like I always hear
Why such different fortunes and fates
Some of us live in a cloud of fear
Some live behind iron gates
Why such different fortunes and fates
Some are blessed and some are cursed
Some live behind iron gates
While others see only the worst
Some are blessed and some are cursed
The Golden One or scarred from birth
While others only see the worst
Such a lot of pain on the earth
The Golden One or scarred from birth
Some things can never be changed
Such a lot of pain on this earth
It’s somehow so badly arranged
Some things can never be changed
Some reasons will never come clear
It’s somehow so badly arranged
If we’re so much the same like I always hear
This is a great song. Despite that, it is one of the most “un-Rush” songs that Rush has ever recorded, in my opinion (right up there with Tears, Rivendell, and Losing It). The subtitle, “a pantoum,” is a reference to the poetic style employed in the lyrics. A pantoum is a series of 4-verse stanzas in which the second and fourth verses of the previous stanza become the first and third verses of the next stanza. In a song, it makes for a really nice, lilting, circular feel, and in this case, it manages to pass on an important philosophical message, too.
Clearly the lyrics are waxing philosophical about the nature of “good and bad” and how some people seem to have all the luck, while others are “scarred from birth.” These things, the lyrics suggest, are the bad side effects of “different fortunes and fates.”
I was thinking the other day about the line: “It’s somehow so badly arranged.” I didn’t catch it at first, but this seems to me to be a direct response to theistic ideas about God being in control and all the known universe being intelligently designed. For a supernatural deity who designed all the intricacies and mysteries of life, intelligence, and the universe, he sure botched the whole “fortunes and fates” thing. But I suppose that’s where the theists bring up their “fallen world but saved through faith” arguments (if they can be called “arguments”).
And yet, like so many of Neil’s lyrics, I can see an alternate interpretation, one with a little more hope, a little more compassion. “If we’re so much the same like I always hear, why such different fortunes and fates?” “It’s somehow so badly arranged, if we’re so much the same like I always hear.” By saying “If we’re so much the same like I always hear,” the line seems to have an ironic tone. “Oh yeah, we’re so much the same? Prove it.” It’s like a challenge. A challenge and a suggestion that it’s up to us to change our fortunes and fates, and to help elicit positive change for others in our homes, our cities, and our world. Some are scarred from birth while others live behind iron gates – it’s our responsibility to change that, to work toward equality on all levels, to tear down the iron gates that separate the “blessed” from the “cursed.”
This week is the beginning of a new quarter at school for me, and Tuesday I had my first class in Career Development. It’s basically a class that teaches us how to write a good resume and how to interview. Anyway, we spent most of the first class discussing our best and worst job experiences. One girl, who looked to me to be Hawaiian or Filipino – Pacific Islander, one way or the other – told of an incident she had while working in a store where a customer refused to let her help him, telling one of her co-workers that he didn’t want that “nigger bitch” helping him. Naturally, the first inclination is outrage, disgust, and ire that someone could say such a thing and believe that way, and those same feelings are directed to the individual himself. Yet – and I think this relates back to the lesson that can be drawn from the lyrics to The Larger Bowl – when you step back and think deeply on the situation, you recognize that this person, like all of us, was born innocent. No one is born a racist, a murderer, or a child molester. We are born innocent, and we become racists, murderers, liberals, conservatives, peace activists, or soldiers based on our own inherent nature and how that nature causes us to react to the environment, upbringing, and culture we are given. The individual in the story above was not born a racist. He learned to be a racist through experience, upbringing, and, no doubt, a lot of poor influences.
This is not to say, of course, that people should not be held responsible, and called to the floor, for racist beliefs, violent tendencies, anger issues, or any of a hundred other negative and damaging personality traits. But it is important to recognize that we are all born innocent, and but for a tweak in brain chemistry here, or a change in upbringing and/or culture there, it might be us standing in the store, calling someone of South Pacific heritage a “nigger bitch.” Seeing deeply in this manner helps us to develop compassion and understanding.
“If we’re so much the same like I always hear, why such different fortunes and fates?” It is up to us to elicit positive change in the world, by recognizing the inherent innocence of all people and by seeing through to the human side of life, and using that understanding to work for peace, equality, love, and compassion.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Workin' Them Angels
Track 3: Workin’ Them Angels
Driving away to the east, and into the past
History recedes in my rear-view mirror
Carried away on a wave of music down a desert road
Memory humming at the heart of a factory town
All my life
I've been workin’ them angels overtime
Riding and driving and living
So close to the edge
Workin’ them angels
Overtime
Riding through the Range of Light to the wounded city
Filling my spirit with the wildest wish to fly
Taking the high road to the wounded city
Memory strumming at the heart of a moving picture
Driving down the razor’s edge between the past and the future
Turn up the music and smile
Get carried away on the songs and stories of vanished times
Memory drumming at the heart of an English winter
Memories beating at the heart of an African village
Some might say it’s art or sculpture or even the written word, but for me, music is the most fervent expression of human emotion. Maybe it’s because there’s real sound involved, but nothing cries like music, nothing laughs like music, nothing rages like music, and nothing loves like music.
Don’t believe music can cry? Listen to Stevie Ray Vaughan or Mark Knopfler. Don’t believe music can laugh? Listen to Jimmy Buffett. Don’t believe music can rage? Listen to Guns n’ Roses. Don’t believe music can love? Listen to Beethoven.
Even as an avowed scrivener and scribbler, I still have to give the nod to musical expression as the penultimate form of emotive art.
In addition to playing on our emotions, music has a fascinating way of connecting itself indelibly to our memories. I remember those car trips to western Kentucky to my grandmother’s house, listening all the way to the greatest hits of Elton John and Alabama. I still can’t hear “40 Hour Week,” “Honky Cat,” or “Daniel” without thinking of those trips and the anticipation I always felt. Those were good times, and they had good music to accompany them.
Another song that has always been full of memories for me is Dire Straits’ “Your Latest Trick.” The Brothers in Arms album was one that I would frequently listen to in my fancy Sony Walkman on those long car trips to western Kentucky, and “Your Latest Trick” was one of my favorites from that album (still is). I distinctly associate that hauntingly sad song with one of the last trips we made to western Kentucky from Louisville. It was the evening of Friday, March 4, 1988, and we were heading to Muhlenberg County because my grandfather had just died. I can still remember sitting in the back seat of the car, on the right side, and staring out the window at the stars overhead while “Your Latest Trick” played in my headphones. “And we’re standing outside of this wonderland, looking so bereaved and so bereft. Like a Bowery bum when he finally understands the bottle’s empty and there’s nothing left.” It was very surreal. I think I listened to “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” too, which was quite apt because I definitely said goodbye to a part of my childhood that night.
Those are sad memories, but as I indicated above, there are plenty of good memories associated with songs too. I remember playing with Lego’s in the hallway of our house in Louisville on rainy Sunday afternoons, listening to Amy Grant’s “In a Little While.” What a perfect rainy day song. And every time I think of “Christmas is for Children” or “Little Snow Girl,” I am immediately taken back to Christmas at the Christmases, icing sugar cookies on the kitchen table and getting up before dawn on Christmas morning to light the fire and prepare for a few hours of materialistic bliss.
Later, Guns n’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction album became the soundtrack to my life, helping me to escape from teenage angst and providing an outlet for my emotions. I never will forget listening to “Mr. Brownstone” in the car one day, and my sister – no doubt angry with me over something – casually telling Mom and Dad that the song was about “doing drugs,” hoping to get me in trouble. I don’t think I had even known, prior to that, what they meant when they said, “We’ve been dancing with Mr. Brownstone...”
And then there’s Jimmy Buffett. What song of his doesn’t take me back? One semester in college, I had a hammock strung up from wall to wall in front of my window, and I would lay in it in swim trunks on sunny winter days and bask in the warmth of the heat radiating through the window, listening to “Brahma Fear,” “I Have Found Me a Home,” and “Migration.” “I got a Caribbean soul I can barely control and some Texas hidden here in my heart.” And Buffett’s live album Feeding Frenzy still reminds me of a get together in 1990 when my friends Russell and Osborne came up from Louisville for the weekend and we listened to that album over, and over, and over again. Russell brought a video camera and we filmed a video to “Fins.” (As I recall, we also did what we thought was a hilarious commercial for condoms, which primarily consisted of me and Osborne humping.)
Like the song says: “Turn up the music and smile; get carried away on the songs and stories of vanished times...”
Driving away to the east, and into the past
History recedes in my rear-view mirror
Carried away on a wave of music down a desert road
Memory humming at the heart of a factory town
All my life
I've been workin’ them angels overtime
Riding and driving and living
So close to the edge
Workin’ them angels
Overtime
Riding through the Range of Light to the wounded city
Filling my spirit with the wildest wish to fly
Taking the high road to the wounded city
Memory strumming at the heart of a moving picture
Driving down the razor’s edge between the past and the future
Turn up the music and smile
Get carried away on the songs and stories of vanished times
Memory drumming at the heart of an English winter
Memories beating at the heart of an African village
Some might say it’s art or sculpture or even the written word, but for me, music is the most fervent expression of human emotion. Maybe it’s because there’s real sound involved, but nothing cries like music, nothing laughs like music, nothing rages like music, and nothing loves like music.
Don’t believe music can cry? Listen to Stevie Ray Vaughan or Mark Knopfler. Don’t believe music can laugh? Listen to Jimmy Buffett. Don’t believe music can rage? Listen to Guns n’ Roses. Don’t believe music can love? Listen to Beethoven.
Even as an avowed scrivener and scribbler, I still have to give the nod to musical expression as the penultimate form of emotive art.
In addition to playing on our emotions, music has a fascinating way of connecting itself indelibly to our memories. I remember those car trips to western Kentucky to my grandmother’s house, listening all the way to the greatest hits of Elton John and Alabama. I still can’t hear “40 Hour Week,” “Honky Cat,” or “Daniel” without thinking of those trips and the anticipation I always felt. Those were good times, and they had good music to accompany them.
Another song that has always been full of memories for me is Dire Straits’ “Your Latest Trick.” The Brothers in Arms album was one that I would frequently listen to in my fancy Sony Walkman on those long car trips to western Kentucky, and “Your Latest Trick” was one of my favorites from that album (still is). I distinctly associate that hauntingly sad song with one of the last trips we made to western Kentucky from Louisville. It was the evening of Friday, March 4, 1988, and we were heading to Muhlenberg County because my grandfather had just died. I can still remember sitting in the back seat of the car, on the right side, and staring out the window at the stars overhead while “Your Latest Trick” played in my headphones. “And we’re standing outside of this wonderland, looking so bereaved and so bereft. Like a Bowery bum when he finally understands the bottle’s empty and there’s nothing left.” It was very surreal. I think I listened to “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” too, which was quite apt because I definitely said goodbye to a part of my childhood that night.
Those are sad memories, but as I indicated above, there are plenty of good memories associated with songs too. I remember playing with Lego’s in the hallway of our house in Louisville on rainy Sunday afternoons, listening to Amy Grant’s “In a Little While.” What a perfect rainy day song. And every time I think of “Christmas is for Children” or “Little Snow Girl,” I am immediately taken back to Christmas at the Christmases, icing sugar cookies on the kitchen table and getting up before dawn on Christmas morning to light the fire and prepare for a few hours of materialistic bliss.
Later, Guns n’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction album became the soundtrack to my life, helping me to escape from teenage angst and providing an outlet for my emotions. I never will forget listening to “Mr. Brownstone” in the car one day, and my sister – no doubt angry with me over something – casually telling Mom and Dad that the song was about “doing drugs,” hoping to get me in trouble. I don’t think I had even known, prior to that, what they meant when they said, “We’ve been dancing with Mr. Brownstone...”
And then there’s Jimmy Buffett. What song of his doesn’t take me back? One semester in college, I had a hammock strung up from wall to wall in front of my window, and I would lay in it in swim trunks on sunny winter days and bask in the warmth of the heat radiating through the window, listening to “Brahma Fear,” “I Have Found Me a Home,” and “Migration.” “I got a Caribbean soul I can barely control and some Texas hidden here in my heart.” And Buffett’s live album Feeding Frenzy still reminds me of a get together in 1990 when my friends Russell and Osborne came up from Louisville for the weekend and we listened to that album over, and over, and over again. Russell brought a video camera and we filmed a video to “Fins.” (As I recall, we also did what we thought was a hilarious commercial for condoms, which primarily consisted of me and Osborne humping.)
Like the song says: “Turn up the music and smile; get carried away on the songs and stories of vanished times...”
Friday, June 15, 2007
Armor & Sword
Track 2: Armor & Sword
The snakes and arrows a child is heir to
Are enough to leave a thousand cuts
We build our defenses, a place of safety
And leave the darker places unexplored
Sometimes the fortress is too strong
Or the love is too weak
What should have been our armor
Becomes a sharp and angry sword
Our better natures seek elevation
A refuge for the coming night
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
We hold beliefs as a consolation
A way to take us out of ourselves
Meditation, or medication
A comfort, or a promised reward
Sometimes that spirit is too strong
Or the flesh is too weak
Sometimes the need is just too great
For the solace we seek
The suit of shining armor
Becomes a keen and bloody sword
A refuge for the coming night
A future of eternal light
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
Confused alarms of struggle and flight
Blood is drained of color
By the flashes of artillery light
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
The battle flags are flown
At the feet of a god unknown
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
Sometimes the damage is too great
Or the will is too weak
What should have been our armor
Becomes a sharp and burning sword
I really like the lyrics to this song because they have so many subtleties and possible interpretations. The second half of the first stanza – “We build our defenses, a place of safety, and leave the darker places unexplored” – is such an apt description of how so many people live their religious lives. For them, religion and spirituality is not so much about personal growth and self-actualization as it is about comfort zones and shelters against fear. This is the hallmark, in my opinion, of evangelical Christianity. Take up the cross against the fearful world, and then bury yourself under it, poking your head out now and then to scream at the passers-by to join you in your fallout shelter.
As the song tells us, the natural result of this kind of Fortress Faith is violent struggle to maintain the wobbly walls. “Confused alarms of struggle and flight, blood is drained of color by the flashes of artillery light.” Too entrenched in our beliefs to step away, we fly our battle flags at the feet of our chosen God, and go to spiritual, and physical, war with the enemy who threatens our stability. Our Fortress Faith – our armor – becomes a sharp and burning sword, used to cut down those who stand against us.
This, I believe, is the darker meaning of that repeated phrase, “No one gets to their heaven without a fight.”
I believe, however, that a different interpretation can be taken from that phrase. Whether Neil meant it as a double-entendre or not remains to be seen, but I can find a spark of hope in those words. The lyrics say, “Our better natures seek elevation, a refuge for the coming night. No one gets to their heaven without a fight.” We long for spiritual connections, whether they come through concepts of “God as supernatural benefactor” or “God as source of being” or “Universe as Mother/Father.” We seek comfort from the prospect of a cold, indifferent universe, of eternal annihilation upon the extinction of our consciousness. We hope for something more, something different, something better. In that sense, we struggle to find our heaven, to find our source of peace and love.
So when I listen to this song, and contemplate these lyrics, I see two sides of the same coin. Heads is the spiritual seeker, searching spiritual elevation and self-actualization through understanding and communing with God - whatever their definition of God may be. Tails is the comfort seeker, searching for refuge and shelter from a sin-stained world, burrowing under the cross, the crescent moon, or the six-pointed star, and coming out from time to time to fight off those who threaten their comfort zone.
As for me, I call heads.
The snakes and arrows a child is heir to
Are enough to leave a thousand cuts
We build our defenses, a place of safety
And leave the darker places unexplored
Sometimes the fortress is too strong
Or the love is too weak
What should have been our armor
Becomes a sharp and angry sword
Our better natures seek elevation
A refuge for the coming night
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
We hold beliefs as a consolation
A way to take us out of ourselves
Meditation, or medication
A comfort, or a promised reward
Sometimes that spirit is too strong
Or the flesh is too weak
Sometimes the need is just too great
For the solace we seek
The suit of shining armor
Becomes a keen and bloody sword
A refuge for the coming night
A future of eternal light
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
Confused alarms of struggle and flight
Blood is drained of color
By the flashes of artillery light
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
The battle flags are flown
At the feet of a god unknown
No one gets to their heaven without a fight
Sometimes the damage is too great
Or the will is too weak
What should have been our armor
Becomes a sharp and burning sword
I really like the lyrics to this song because they have so many subtleties and possible interpretations. The second half of the first stanza – “We build our defenses, a place of safety, and leave the darker places unexplored” – is such an apt description of how so many people live their religious lives. For them, religion and spirituality is not so much about personal growth and self-actualization as it is about comfort zones and shelters against fear. This is the hallmark, in my opinion, of evangelical Christianity. Take up the cross against the fearful world, and then bury yourself under it, poking your head out now and then to scream at the passers-by to join you in your fallout shelter.
As the song tells us, the natural result of this kind of Fortress Faith is violent struggle to maintain the wobbly walls. “Confused alarms of struggle and flight, blood is drained of color by the flashes of artillery light.” Too entrenched in our beliefs to step away, we fly our battle flags at the feet of our chosen God, and go to spiritual, and physical, war with the enemy who threatens our stability. Our Fortress Faith – our armor – becomes a sharp and burning sword, used to cut down those who stand against us.
This, I believe, is the darker meaning of that repeated phrase, “No one gets to their heaven without a fight.”
I believe, however, that a different interpretation can be taken from that phrase. Whether Neil meant it as a double-entendre or not remains to be seen, but I can find a spark of hope in those words. The lyrics say, “Our better natures seek elevation, a refuge for the coming night. No one gets to their heaven without a fight.” We long for spiritual connections, whether they come through concepts of “God as supernatural benefactor” or “God as source of being” or “Universe as Mother/Father.” We seek comfort from the prospect of a cold, indifferent universe, of eternal annihilation upon the extinction of our consciousness. We hope for something more, something different, something better. In that sense, we struggle to find our heaven, to find our source of peace and love.
So when I listen to this song, and contemplate these lyrics, I see two sides of the same coin. Heads is the spiritual seeker, searching spiritual elevation and self-actualization through understanding and communing with God - whatever their definition of God may be. Tails is the comfort seeker, searching for refuge and shelter from a sin-stained world, burrowing under the cross, the crescent moon, or the six-pointed star, and coming out from time to time to fight off those who threaten their comfort zone.
As for me, I call heads.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Far Cry
In honor of Rush’s 2007 Snakes & Arrows tour, which started last night in Atlanta, Georgia, I am going to do a series of blogs about each song on the new album. I’ll do a new blog post each day (hopefully!), one for each of the 13 songs, and I will post the lyrics first, and then my commentary on what the lyrics mean to me and/or any other relevant commentary that may spring from the lyrics. I’ll also cut out all the repeated choruses and refrains from the lyrics, for the sake of space and needless repetition.
These won’t be blogs about how much I love Rush or about Rush-related issues – meaning, you don’t have to like Rush to, hopefully, read and enjoy these posts. Like all my blogs, these will primarily be commentaries on religion, politics, philosophy, and the state of life on this watery little planet – you know, serene musings.
Track 1: Far Cry
Pariah dogs and wandering madmen
Barking at strangers and speaking in tongues
The ebb and flow of tidal fortune
Electrical changes are charging up the young
It’s a far cry from the world we thought we’d inherit
It's a far cry from the way we thought we’d share it
You can almost feel the current flowing
You can almost see the circuits blowing
One day I feel I’m on top of the world
And the next it’s falling in on me
I can get back on
One day I feel I’m ahead of the wheel
And the next it’s rolling over me
I can get back on
Whirlwind life of faith and betrayal
Rise in anger, fall back and repeat
Slow degrees on the dark horizon
Full moon rising, lays silver at your feet
You can almost see the circle growing
You can almost feel the planet glowing
One day I fly through a crack in the sky
And the next it’s falling in on me
I can get back on
Besides being one of the best songs, musically, on the album, the message of Far Cry really resonates with me. Growing up in my comfortable, safe, upper middle class, Christian world, I certainly haven’t come to find, as an adult, the world I thought I’d inherit. Life never turns out quite how you expect – which, you come to find out, is not necessarily a bad thing. I never thought I’d be 32, with two kids, divorced and remarried to the same person, and back in school to work in a hospital setting. Yet I feel happy with where I am and what I’ve come through, and I feel that I am on the right track. Still, those ups and downs of the daily grind can take their toll. One day I fly through a crack in the sky, and the next it’s falling in on me.
It’s easy to get caught up in the fears and anxieties of this world we’ve inherited. Terrorism, bird flu, political ineptitude, unjust wars, the loss of liberty in the name of freedom, outrageous gas prices, theocratic politicians who legislate their misguided sense of morality at the expense of humanity, hopeless greed, guileless corporate gunslingers, the squeezing out of the middle class, and $6 hotdogs at the ballpark. Considering this, it’s little wonder that I heard a recent news report saying violent crime was up all across the board. Who couldn’t have predicted this 7 years ago? Anyone who was intellectually honest and had even a thimbleful of foresight.
But despite those things, hope remains. And that’s one of the most powerful messages of this song, I believe. That little, innocuous, repeated phrase – “I can get back on.” Even in the face of the horrors, anxieties, and uncertainties of the modern age, if we can keep forging ahead, keeping picking ourselves up, and keep refusing to be ruled by fear, maybe we can help ensure our children can
These won’t be blogs about how much I love Rush or about Rush-related issues – meaning, you don’t have to like Rush to, hopefully, read and enjoy these posts. Like all my blogs, these will primarily be commentaries on religion, politics, philosophy, and the state of life on this watery little planet – you know, serene musings.
Track 1: Far Cry
Pariah dogs and wandering madmen
Barking at strangers and speaking in tongues
The ebb and flow of tidal fortune
Electrical changes are charging up the young
It’s a far cry from the world we thought we’d inherit
It's a far cry from the way we thought we’d share it
You can almost feel the current flowing
You can almost see the circuits blowing
One day I feel I’m on top of the world
And the next it’s falling in on me
I can get back on
One day I feel I’m ahead of the wheel
And the next it’s rolling over me
I can get back on
Whirlwind life of faith and betrayal
Rise in anger, fall back and repeat
Slow degrees on the dark horizon
Full moon rising, lays silver at your feet
You can almost see the circle growing
You can almost feel the planet glowing
One day I fly through a crack in the sky
And the next it’s falling in on me
I can get back on
Besides being one of the best songs, musically, on the album, the message of Far Cry really resonates with me. Growing up in my comfortable, safe, upper middle class, Christian world, I certainly haven’t come to find, as an adult, the world I thought I’d inherit. Life never turns out quite how you expect – which, you come to find out, is not necessarily a bad thing. I never thought I’d be 32, with two kids, divorced and remarried to the same person, and back in school to work in a hospital setting. Yet I feel happy with where I am and what I’ve come through, and I feel that I am on the right track. Still, those ups and downs of the daily grind can take their toll. One day I fly through a crack in the sky, and the next it’s falling in on me.
It’s easy to get caught up in the fears and anxieties of this world we’ve inherited. Terrorism, bird flu, political ineptitude, unjust wars, the loss of liberty in the name of freedom, outrageous gas prices, theocratic politicians who legislate their misguided sense of morality at the expense of humanity, hopeless greed, guileless corporate gunslingers, the squeezing out of the middle class, and $6 hotdogs at the ballpark. Considering this, it’s little wonder that I heard a recent news report saying violent crime was up all across the board. Who couldn’t have predicted this 7 years ago? Anyone who was intellectually honest and had even a thimbleful of foresight.
But despite those things, hope remains. And that’s one of the most powerful messages of this song, I believe. That little, innocuous, repeated phrase – “I can get back on.” Even in the face of the horrors, anxieties, and uncertainties of the modern age, if we can keep forging ahead, keeping picking ourselves up, and keep refusing to be ruled by fear, maybe we can help ensure our children can
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Thoughts on Trees
I was outside on a break today and a co-worker motioned to a nearby tree and said, “If that big old tree ever snapped off, it would crush my car.”
It sparked for me one of those moments that cerebral people frequently have where you suddenly find yourself in awe of nature’s magnificence.
The trunks of trees grow thick and strong, which allows them to stand up to the fiercest of winds. On their much thinner branches, they grow leaves, which (among other things) help increase the surface area receiving the brunt of the wind, thus allowing the branches to withstand wind forces much higher than they could stand without the leaves. They lose their leaves in the winter, when strong storms with powerful winds are less likely to occur. By the time storm season returns, the trees have regrown their leaves.
When branches do snap and fall to the ground, they biodegrade quickly into the soil, providing powerful nutrients for the tree to keep growing stronger.
It’s all just such a perfect circle of life, everything working together in flawless precision, every unexpected turn met with botanical preparation.
It almost seems...designed.
Almost. But not quite.
It’s fascinating to realize that the only reason I am even here to contemplate it is because it works.
It sparked for me one of those moments that cerebral people frequently have where you suddenly find yourself in awe of nature’s magnificence.
The trunks of trees grow thick and strong, which allows them to stand up to the fiercest of winds. On their much thinner branches, they grow leaves, which (among other things) help increase the surface area receiving the brunt of the wind, thus allowing the branches to withstand wind forces much higher than they could stand without the leaves. They lose their leaves in the winter, when strong storms with powerful winds are less likely to occur. By the time storm season returns, the trees have regrown their leaves.
When branches do snap and fall to the ground, they biodegrade quickly into the soil, providing powerful nutrients for the tree to keep growing stronger.
It’s all just such a perfect circle of life, everything working together in flawless precision, every unexpected turn met with botanical preparation.
It almost seems...designed.
Almost. But not quite.
It’s fascinating to realize that the only reason I am even here to contemplate it is because it works.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
An Illustration of the Jewish Midrash Tradition
You all have heard me talk many times in the past about the Jewish midrash tradition. This tradition was a writing style wherein stories of real people would be imbued with fictitious accounts meant not to promote myth and lies, but to explain in clear language the importance of the person being written about. Rather than use traditional language, the person or event would be described against the backdrop of ancient stories and myths, in order to show how the subject person or event was bigger than life, and vitally important to the continuing story of the Jewish culture. Jesus's life was described in this way in the bible.
This tradition worked both on the positive and the negative. Just as intentional metaphor and mythology would be used to describe the greatness of certain individuals or events, intentional metaphor and mythology would be used to describe the depravity of certain individuals or events.
One such example is in the case of the Roman emperor Titus.
Titus was emperor of Rome from 79 to 81 C.E., and was considered by most secular historians of the time as a good emperor. He reigned during the catastrophic eruption of Vesuvius in 79 C.E., as well as through a devestating fire and plague in Rome in 80 C.E. He distinguished himself during these events through charity, monetary and peronsal aid, and an active policy to relieve the suffering these events caused. He personally visited the site of the destroyed Pompeii twice. Furthermore, because of his moderate and charitable reputation, he is considered the model emperor for the later "Five Good Emperors" described in Edward Gibbon's seminal work, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
Be that as it may, Titus was a general prior to becoming emperor, and as such, he was the figure who led the battle for the Romans against the Jews in the revolt of 70 C.E. His armies put the Jewish revolt down, secured Jerusalem as a province of Rome, and destroyed the Temple, thereby dispersing the Jews for good (that is, until 1947).
As you can imagine, despite his glowing reputation among Romans and Roman historians, Titus is viewed quite negatively in Jewish histories.
The Babylonian Talmud describes Titus as "wicked," saying that he "blasphemed and insulted heaven." There is a story of him taking his mistress into the holy of holies (a place only the high priest was allowed to go), opening a scroll of the Torah, then having sex on top of the scroll in the middle of the holy of holies.
Later, after the war, when Titus was returning to Rome, a great gale came up on the sea, and Titus mocked God, saying that the Jewish God only has power on the water. God, in turn, told Titus he would meet him on land, and destroy him with the tiniest creature on earth, a gnat, to prove his power.
The Babylonian Talmud goes on to say that a gnat, which, it claims, has only an orifice for eating but not for excreting, entered Titus's nose and went up into his brain. There it lived for the next 7 years, before finally killing Titus. Upon a post-morten examination, Titus's head was opened and the gnat was discovered, the size of a sparrow.
All of this is midrash. It was metaphor and mythology, intentionally devised to show how the Jews felt about Titus. Describing him conducting a sex act on a scroll of the Torah, inside the holy of holies, was about the worst possible thing imaginable to a 1st or 2nd century Jew. Describing a scene in which God's power is displayed on the water harkens back to stories of the parting of the Red Sea and the story of Jonah (this same theme is used in the Gospels when describing Jesus's power to calm the storm).
Describing a "gnat" as entering Titus's brain also harkens back to the stories of the Exodus. One of the plagues was a swarm of gnats. Gnats, as well as any flying insect that swarmed or "went about on 4 legs" were considered detestable and unclean to the Jews, as outlined in Jewish Law (see Leviticus 11:20 and Deuteronomy 14:19). So to suggest God sent a gnat to kill Titus not only describes God's power over earthly rulers, but also portrays earthly rulers as so insignificant, weak, wicked, and depraved as to be destroyed by an unclean, detestable insect.
All of this illustrates well the Jewish midrash tradition. Titus never copulated on the floor of the holy of holies. Titus never had a conversation with God during a storm at sea. Titus did not get killed by a gnat entering his brain through his nose (as if such an opening even exists there), and there was certainly no sparrow-sized insect found in Titus's skull after death. These stories were incorporated into the Jewish written tradition in order to illustrate in an overt and unconcealed way just how the Jews felt about this man Titus.
Understand midrash, and you will see the Gospel stories of Jesus in an entirely new, refreshing, and spiritually meaningful light.
This tradition worked both on the positive and the negative. Just as intentional metaphor and mythology would be used to describe the greatness of certain individuals or events, intentional metaphor and mythology would be used to describe the depravity of certain individuals or events.
One such example is in the case of the Roman emperor Titus.
Titus was emperor of Rome from 79 to 81 C.E., and was considered by most secular historians of the time as a good emperor. He reigned during the catastrophic eruption of Vesuvius in 79 C.E., as well as through a devestating fire and plague in Rome in 80 C.E. He distinguished himself during these events through charity, monetary and peronsal aid, and an active policy to relieve the suffering these events caused. He personally visited the site of the destroyed Pompeii twice. Furthermore, because of his moderate and charitable reputation, he is considered the model emperor for the later "Five Good Emperors" described in Edward Gibbon's seminal work, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
Be that as it may, Titus was a general prior to becoming emperor, and as such, he was the figure who led the battle for the Romans against the Jews in the revolt of 70 C.E. His armies put the Jewish revolt down, secured Jerusalem as a province of Rome, and destroyed the Temple, thereby dispersing the Jews for good (that is, until 1947).
As you can imagine, despite his glowing reputation among Romans and Roman historians, Titus is viewed quite negatively in Jewish histories.
The Babylonian Talmud describes Titus as "wicked," saying that he "blasphemed and insulted heaven." There is a story of him taking his mistress into the holy of holies (a place only the high priest was allowed to go), opening a scroll of the Torah, then having sex on top of the scroll in the middle of the holy of holies.
Later, after the war, when Titus was returning to Rome, a great gale came up on the sea, and Titus mocked God, saying that the Jewish God only has power on the water. God, in turn, told Titus he would meet him on land, and destroy him with the tiniest creature on earth, a gnat, to prove his power.
The Babylonian Talmud goes on to say that a gnat, which, it claims, has only an orifice for eating but not for excreting, entered Titus's nose and went up into his brain. There it lived for the next 7 years, before finally killing Titus. Upon a post-morten examination, Titus's head was opened and the gnat was discovered, the size of a sparrow.
All of this is midrash. It was metaphor and mythology, intentionally devised to show how the Jews felt about Titus. Describing him conducting a sex act on a scroll of the Torah, inside the holy of holies, was about the worst possible thing imaginable to a 1st or 2nd century Jew. Describing a scene in which God's power is displayed on the water harkens back to stories of the parting of the Red Sea and the story of Jonah (this same theme is used in the Gospels when describing Jesus's power to calm the storm).
Describing a "gnat" as entering Titus's brain also harkens back to the stories of the Exodus. One of the plagues was a swarm of gnats. Gnats, as well as any flying insect that swarmed or "went about on 4 legs" were considered detestable and unclean to the Jews, as outlined in Jewish Law (see Leviticus 11:20 and Deuteronomy 14:19). So to suggest God sent a gnat to kill Titus not only describes God's power over earthly rulers, but also portrays earthly rulers as so insignificant, weak, wicked, and depraved as to be destroyed by an unclean, detestable insect.
All of this illustrates well the Jewish midrash tradition. Titus never copulated on the floor of the holy of holies. Titus never had a conversation with God during a storm at sea. Titus did not get killed by a gnat entering his brain through his nose (as if such an opening even exists there), and there was certainly no sparrow-sized insect found in Titus's skull after death. These stories were incorporated into the Jewish written tradition in order to illustrate in an overt and unconcealed way just how the Jews felt about this man Titus.
Understand midrash, and you will see the Gospel stories of Jesus in an entirely new, refreshing, and spiritually meaningful light.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Happy Birthday, Kentucky
215 years ago today, Kentucky was admitted as the 15th state in the Union.
35 fun facts about Kentucky:
1. Kentucky is called the "Bluegrass State" because it is rife with a type of grass that is thick, lush, and deep green. From a distance, when the angles are right and the grass is in bloom, it looks dark blue.
2. It is unclear exactly where the state's name comes from -- most agree it is based on a Native American word, but there are many theories about just what this word was, and what it meant.
3. Kentucky borders 7 states and has 120 counties.
Louisville, Kentucky
4. Kentucky's Lake Cumberland is the largest lake by volume east of the Mississippi River.
5. Kentucky's Mammoth Cave is the largest cave in the world. First promoted in 1816, it is the second oldest official tourist attraction in the U.S., behind Niagra Falls.
6. Both Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis (President of the Confederate States) were born in Western Kentucky, less than 1 year and 100 miles apart.
Abe Lincoln's Birthplace
7. Kentucky was originally part of Virginia, known as Kentucky County, Virginia.
8. The central star on the Confederate flag represented Kentucky, even though Kentucky never officially seceeded from the Union.
9. Kentucky governor William Goebel is the only governor in U.S. history to be assassinated (1900).
10. Kentucky is historicaly democratic in terms of political leanings. In 2006, only 35% of Kentuckians were registered as Republicans, as compared to 57% registered as Democrats. Be that as it may, Kentucky has voted strongly Republican, both at the state and federal levels, since 2000.
11. 91% of Kentuckians are white.
12. 33% of Kentuckians are affiliated with evangelical Protestant churches, the largest of any group. However, 46% claim no relgious affiliation.
Lexington, Kentucky
13. Bourbon whiskey was invented in Georgetown, Kentucky by Baptist preacher Elijah Craig in the late 1700's. Craig also helped found Georgetown College (my alma mater).
Georgetown College, Kentucky
14. As of 2007, Bourbon County is dry. Christian County is wet. Barren County has the most fertile land in the state.
15. The Toyota plant in Georgetown makes every Toyota Camry driven in the United States.
16. 51% of Kentuckians live in either Louisville, Lexington, or Northern Kentucky (Cincinnati metro area).
17. The widest portion of the Ohio River is at Louisville - in one spot, it is nearly a mile wide.
18. Berea College was the first co-ed southern college to permit both blacks and whites, doing so from its inception in 1855.
19. Every Corvette driven in the world is made in Bolwing Green, Kentucky.
20. State Bird: Cardinal. State Flower: Goldenrod.
21. Thunder Over Louisville, a fireworks show kicking off the annual 2-week Derby Day festivities, is the largest annual fireworks show in the world.
Thunder Over Louisville, 2007
22. The two largest rivers in North American - the Missisippi and the Ohio - converge near Wickliffe, Kentucky.
23. Kentucky is the only state in the U.S. with part of its contiguous border cut off from the rest of the state. The Kentucky Bend area, in extreme Western Kentucky, was separated from the rest of the state during the New Madrid Earthquake of 1812. As such, this area, with an official population of 17, is completely surrounded now by Missouri and Tennessee. A portion of Missouri cuts it off completely from Kentucky by about 4 miles.
24. Prior to the arrival of Europeans, most of Kentucky was unsettled by Native Americans. Rather, the area was a hunting ground for Shawnee and Cherokee tribes farther north.
25. The first permanent American settlement in Kentucky was Harrodstown (now called Harrodsburg), settled in 1774.
26. The first cheesburger ever served at a restaurant was served at Kaolin's, in Louisville, in 1934.
27. The first commercial oil well in the U.S. was in McCreary County, Kentucky, 1819.
28. The Happy Birthday Song was composed by two Louisville sisters in 1893.
29. The first Mother's Day observation was held in Henderson, Kentucky in 1887. It became an official U.S. holiday in 1916.
30. Lexington, Kentucky premiered the first Beethoven symphony to be played in the United States, 1817.
31. Post-It Notes are manufactured exclusively in Cynthiana, Kentucky.
32. Thomas Edison introduced his light bulb in Louisville in 1883.
33. The radio was invented in Murray, Kentucky in 1892, three years before Marconi's claim.
34. Fort Knox stores the largest amount of gold anywhere in the world.
35. The Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington has the largest hand blown stained glass window in the world.
Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption
35 fun facts about Kentucky:
1. Kentucky is called the "Bluegrass State" because it is rife with a type of grass that is thick, lush, and deep green. From a distance, when the angles are right and the grass is in bloom, it looks dark blue.
2. It is unclear exactly where the state's name comes from -- most agree it is based on a Native American word, but there are many theories about just what this word was, and what it meant.
3. Kentucky borders 7 states and has 120 counties.
Louisville, Kentucky
4. Kentucky's Lake Cumberland is the largest lake by volume east of the Mississippi River.
5. Kentucky's Mammoth Cave is the largest cave in the world. First promoted in 1816, it is the second oldest official tourist attraction in the U.S., behind Niagra Falls.
6. Both Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis (President of the Confederate States) were born in Western Kentucky, less than 1 year and 100 miles apart.
Abe Lincoln's Birthplace
7. Kentucky was originally part of Virginia, known as Kentucky County, Virginia.
8. The central star on the Confederate flag represented Kentucky, even though Kentucky never officially seceeded from the Union.
9. Kentucky governor William Goebel is the only governor in U.S. history to be assassinated (1900).
10. Kentucky is historicaly democratic in terms of political leanings. In 2006, only 35% of Kentuckians were registered as Republicans, as compared to 57% registered as Democrats. Be that as it may, Kentucky has voted strongly Republican, both at the state and federal levels, since 2000.
11. 91% of Kentuckians are white.
12. 33% of Kentuckians are affiliated with evangelical Protestant churches, the largest of any group. However, 46% claim no relgious affiliation.
Lexington, Kentucky
13. Bourbon whiskey was invented in Georgetown, Kentucky by Baptist preacher Elijah Craig in the late 1700's. Craig also helped found Georgetown College (my alma mater).
Georgetown College, Kentucky
14. As of 2007, Bourbon County is dry. Christian County is wet. Barren County has the most fertile land in the state.
15. The Toyota plant in Georgetown makes every Toyota Camry driven in the United States.
16. 51% of Kentuckians live in either Louisville, Lexington, or Northern Kentucky (Cincinnati metro area).
17. The widest portion of the Ohio River is at Louisville - in one spot, it is nearly a mile wide.
18. Berea College was the first co-ed southern college to permit both blacks and whites, doing so from its inception in 1855.
19. Every Corvette driven in the world is made in Bolwing Green, Kentucky.
20. State Bird: Cardinal. State Flower: Goldenrod.
21. Thunder Over Louisville, a fireworks show kicking off the annual 2-week Derby Day festivities, is the largest annual fireworks show in the world.
Thunder Over Louisville, 2007
22. The two largest rivers in North American - the Missisippi and the Ohio - converge near Wickliffe, Kentucky.
23. Kentucky is the only state in the U.S. with part of its contiguous border cut off from the rest of the state. The Kentucky Bend area, in extreme Western Kentucky, was separated from the rest of the state during the New Madrid Earthquake of 1812. As such, this area, with an official population of 17, is completely surrounded now by Missouri and Tennessee. A portion of Missouri cuts it off completely from Kentucky by about 4 miles.
24. Prior to the arrival of Europeans, most of Kentucky was unsettled by Native Americans. Rather, the area was a hunting ground for Shawnee and Cherokee tribes farther north.
25. The first permanent American settlement in Kentucky was Harrodstown (now called Harrodsburg), settled in 1774.
26. The first cheesburger ever served at a restaurant was served at Kaolin's, in Louisville, in 1934.
27. The first commercial oil well in the U.S. was in McCreary County, Kentucky, 1819.
28. The Happy Birthday Song was composed by two Louisville sisters in 1893.
29. The first Mother's Day observation was held in Henderson, Kentucky in 1887. It became an official U.S. holiday in 1916.
30. Lexington, Kentucky premiered the first Beethoven symphony to be played in the United States, 1817.
31. Post-It Notes are manufactured exclusively in Cynthiana, Kentucky.
32. Thomas Edison introduced his light bulb in Louisville in 1883.
33. The radio was invented in Murray, Kentucky in 1892, three years before Marconi's claim.
34. Fort Knox stores the largest amount of gold anywhere in the world.
35. The Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington has the largest hand blown stained glass window in the world.
Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A Biblical Look at Hell
We've been having an interesting conversation on the Rush messageboard about hell. One of the more enlightened and intellectually honest Christians on the board created a thread asking about what the bible actually says about hell. He has, apparently, been struggling with the concept of an all-loving, all-merciful God who also sends the majority of human beings to eternal damnation in a lake of fire (what intellectually honest Christian wouldn't struggle with such an abominable and counter-intuitive idea?).
As a result, there has been an interesting conversation taking place. I wanted to post some of my own thoughts from the thread here on my blog, for a wider reading audience.
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Did you know that the word "hell" only appears 14 times in the bible? Fully half of those instances are in the book of Matthew alone, and 12 of the 14 are in the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke). The other two are in James and 2 Peter.
How can something that plays such an otherwise insignificant role in the bible be such a central theme within Christianity? By way of comparison, consider the instances of these words in the bible:
Free: 186
Prison/Jail: 140
Slave: 164
Field: 301
Flower: 22
Tower: 51
Life: 589
Love: 697
Compassion/Compassionate: 88
Vomit: 13
Spit: 17
Semen: 6
I mean, for crying out loud, the word "vomit," or a variation thereof, is used as many times in the bible as the word "hell"!!! And look how many times "love" appears in the bible. Based on some of these numbers, what do you think is most important in the message of the bible? Eternal damnation for sin, or showing love and compassion to each other, and bringing the message of abundant life to the people you encounter each day?
-----
There is very little in the bible regarding hell. There are plenty of references to Satan, but not a single one of them is referenced in a passage regarding hell.
Think about that for a moment.
In the bible, Satan is characterized as the embodiment of evil, temptation, and wayward living. Hell, on the other hand, is where you end up if you are out of communion with God. Christianity, and other religions, connect these two things, but if you simply look at biblical texts, you won't find a clear connection between Satan and Hell. If you assume hell is a real place, the very first question you must ask yourself is "Is Satan there too?" The bible doesn't make this clear. For me, this is strong evidence that our modern concepts of hell and Satan are entirely manmade. If God were a supernatural entity attempting to communicate with us through the bible, he sure messed up on giving us a clear picture about hell and Satan.
The reason for the ambiguity in the bible, of course, is because hell, as a theological concept, was still in its infancy when the New Testament was being written. I've remarked elsewhere that I don't personally believe Jesus probably ever said anything about hell. I think the references Jesus makes to hell in the gospels were probably words put into his teachings by later Christian writers who were writing after the concept was beginning to be incorporated into Christian theology.
Thus, for instance, when Matthew has Jesus say, in chapter 5, verse 4, "If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell" I think the part about hell was probably added to Jesus's authentic teaching. More than likely, Jesus's teaching would have been about eternal separation from God -- thus, discard your sinful ways (that is, ways that lead you out of communion with God), and begin leading God-centered lives, so that you don't end up permanently out of communion with God. When such a teaching is translated into late 1st century emerging Christian theological language, you end up with what Matthew wrote.
Whether Jesus actually used hell language or not, the issue still remains irrelevant for me. As a 1st century spiritual teacher, Jesus may well have used language and concepts that were common to the people he was teaching and to the culture in which he lived. However, since hell wasn't a concept within Jewish theology, I don't believe he ever talked about hell. Even if he did, 1st century conceptions of eternal damnation are irrelevant for 21st century theology, in my opinion, even if they are from Jesus.
To go a little deeper, let's look at another hell reference in the New Testamant. Most scholars agree that 2 Peter was probably the last NT book to be written -- written sometime in the first part of the 2nd century. There is a reference to hell in the second chapter.
"For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them into gloomy dungeons to be held for judgment....."
Gloomy dungeons? That doesn't sound like a lake of fire to me. Interestingly, the Greek word for hell used in this passage was "Tartarus," which refers to a deep, dark pit or hole where the dead await judgment. This concept was drawn directly from Greek mythology, which stated that Tartarus was within Hades -- Hades being the abode of the dead. It's very closely related to the Jewish concept of Sheol.
The point, of course, is this -- this particular biblical reference to "hell" is clearly not related to the concepts of fire that you get in other biblical hell references, and certainly not in the modern evangelical concept of hell. To the Christian community that composed 2 Peter, hell was not about eternal fire and damnation, but more in line with Jewish and Greek concepts as a holding tank for the final judgment. This speaks to Jeremy's original question about whether we get a chance, after death, to accept God. It would seem, by the standards of the writer(s) of 2 Peter, that final judgment doesn't happen during life or even at death, but at the end of time -- and this was a distinctly Jewish idea, not at all like what we understand in modern Christianity.
All this leads back to the original statement -- and that is that the bible gives no clear idea of what hell is, and no clear connection at all to Satan. Hell was a concept that was in use in sporadic Christian communities during the 1st and 2nd centuries, and there was no clear agreement even among these communities about what hell was or what Satan's role was there. It was not until much later that specific ideas about hell, Satan, fire, and eternal damnation were developed. And because we now have these sorts of ideas about hell, we read those same ideas back into the bible, even though those ideas aren't actually there.
It's important to note, too, that no reference to hell ever appears in Paul's writings -- the earliest Christian writings in existence. If Jesus talked about hell, and hell was an important Christian concept, wouldn't the father of Christianity have at least mentioned it in passing? I firmly believe no Christian ever talked of "hell" until the latter part of the 1st century, long after Jesus, his followers, and the earliest missionaries were gone.
-----
Just remember....hell, as a location, is mentioned in only 5 of the 66 biblical books (that's less than 8% of the books in the bible), with a total of only 14 mentions, half of which are in one book alone. Hell is never mentioned by the New Testament's earliest writer, and the general father of Christian theology, Paul, and it is also not mentioned in other early New Testament books like the book of Hebrews. Finally, hell and Satan are never mentioned together in the bible, and there is no indication in the bible that Satan lives in hell, or that hell is place of eternal and irreversible damnation. All of those ideas were developed long after the biblical books were written, and by people and institutions that were not part of the earliest Christian communities.
-----
If you want to read further on my beliefs and feelings about hell, click here. This is a blog post from March where I talk about hell.
As a result, there has been an interesting conversation taking place. I wanted to post some of my own thoughts from the thread here on my blog, for a wider reading audience.
-----
Did you know that the word "hell" only appears 14 times in the bible? Fully half of those instances are in the book of Matthew alone, and 12 of the 14 are in the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke). The other two are in James and 2 Peter.
How can something that plays such an otherwise insignificant role in the bible be such a central theme within Christianity? By way of comparison, consider the instances of these words in the bible:
Free: 186
Prison/Jail: 140
Slave: 164
Field: 301
Flower: 22
Tower: 51
Life: 589
Love: 697
Compassion/Compassionate: 88
Vomit: 13
Spit: 17
Semen: 6
I mean, for crying out loud, the word "vomit," or a variation thereof, is used as many times in the bible as the word "hell"!!! And look how many times "love" appears in the bible. Based on some of these numbers, what do you think is most important in the message of the bible? Eternal damnation for sin, or showing love and compassion to each other, and bringing the message of abundant life to the people you encounter each day?
-----
There is very little in the bible regarding hell. There are plenty of references to Satan, but not a single one of them is referenced in a passage regarding hell.
Think about that for a moment.
In the bible, Satan is characterized as the embodiment of evil, temptation, and wayward living. Hell, on the other hand, is where you end up if you are out of communion with God. Christianity, and other religions, connect these two things, but if you simply look at biblical texts, you won't find a clear connection between Satan and Hell. If you assume hell is a real place, the very first question you must ask yourself is "Is Satan there too?" The bible doesn't make this clear. For me, this is strong evidence that our modern concepts of hell and Satan are entirely manmade. If God were a supernatural entity attempting to communicate with us through the bible, he sure messed up on giving us a clear picture about hell and Satan.
The reason for the ambiguity in the bible, of course, is because hell, as a theological concept, was still in its infancy when the New Testament was being written. I've remarked elsewhere that I don't personally believe Jesus probably ever said anything about hell. I think the references Jesus makes to hell in the gospels were probably words put into his teachings by later Christian writers who were writing after the concept was beginning to be incorporated into Christian theology.
Thus, for instance, when Matthew has Jesus say, in chapter 5, verse 4, "If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell" I think the part about hell was probably added to Jesus's authentic teaching. More than likely, Jesus's teaching would have been about eternal separation from God -- thus, discard your sinful ways (that is, ways that lead you out of communion with God), and begin leading God-centered lives, so that you don't end up permanently out of communion with God. When such a teaching is translated into late 1st century emerging Christian theological language, you end up with what Matthew wrote.
Whether Jesus actually used hell language or not, the issue still remains irrelevant for me. As a 1st century spiritual teacher, Jesus may well have used language and concepts that were common to the people he was teaching and to the culture in which he lived. However, since hell wasn't a concept within Jewish theology, I don't believe he ever talked about hell. Even if he did, 1st century conceptions of eternal damnation are irrelevant for 21st century theology, in my opinion, even if they are from Jesus.
To go a little deeper, let's look at another hell reference in the New Testamant. Most scholars agree that 2 Peter was probably the last NT book to be written -- written sometime in the first part of the 2nd century. There is a reference to hell in the second chapter.
"For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them into gloomy dungeons to be held for judgment....."
Gloomy dungeons? That doesn't sound like a lake of fire to me. Interestingly, the Greek word for hell used in this passage was "Tartarus," which refers to a deep, dark pit or hole where the dead await judgment. This concept was drawn directly from Greek mythology, which stated that Tartarus was within Hades -- Hades being the abode of the dead. It's very closely related to the Jewish concept of Sheol.
The point, of course, is this -- this particular biblical reference to "hell" is clearly not related to the concepts of fire that you get in other biblical hell references, and certainly not in the modern evangelical concept of hell. To the Christian community that composed 2 Peter, hell was not about eternal fire and damnation, but more in line with Jewish and Greek concepts as a holding tank for the final judgment. This speaks to Jeremy's original question about whether we get a chance, after death, to accept God. It would seem, by the standards of the writer(s) of 2 Peter, that final judgment doesn't happen during life or even at death, but at the end of time -- and this was a distinctly Jewish idea, not at all like what we understand in modern Christianity.
All this leads back to the original statement -- and that is that the bible gives no clear idea of what hell is, and no clear connection at all to Satan. Hell was a concept that was in use in sporadic Christian communities during the 1st and 2nd centuries, and there was no clear agreement even among these communities about what hell was or what Satan's role was there. It was not until much later that specific ideas about hell, Satan, fire, and eternal damnation were developed. And because we now have these sorts of ideas about hell, we read those same ideas back into the bible, even though those ideas aren't actually there.
It's important to note, too, that no reference to hell ever appears in Paul's writings -- the earliest Christian writings in existence. If Jesus talked about hell, and hell was an important Christian concept, wouldn't the father of Christianity have at least mentioned it in passing? I firmly believe no Christian ever talked of "hell" until the latter part of the 1st century, long after Jesus, his followers, and the earliest missionaries were gone.
-----
Just remember....hell, as a location, is mentioned in only 5 of the 66 biblical books (that's less than 8% of the books in the bible), with a total of only 14 mentions, half of which are in one book alone. Hell is never mentioned by the New Testament's earliest writer, and the general father of Christian theology, Paul, and it is also not mentioned in other early New Testament books like the book of Hebrews. Finally, hell and Satan are never mentioned together in the bible, and there is no indication in the bible that Satan lives in hell, or that hell is place of eternal and irreversible damnation. All of those ideas were developed long after the biblical books were written, and by people and institutions that were not part of the earliest Christian communities.
-----
If you want to read further on my beliefs and feelings about hell, click here. This is a blog post from March where I talk about hell.
Friday, May 18, 2007
On Second Thought....
It is beginning to appear that we will be staying in Lexington, at least for the time being.
Several things needed to come together in order for us to reasonably make the move up to Cincinnati, but it seems that instead of coming together, various roadblocks keep arising instead.
Primarily, Melanie needs to get a job in the Princeton district. Unfortunately, there don’t appear to be any openings right now, and she has also been told that any openings will likely be filled internally. That leaves her Mom’s district, and maybe a handful of others, but none of those pay as well as Princeton’s district. With the raise she will be getting here next year, there would only be a difference of a couple of thousand dollars per year if she got a job at one of these other districts in Cincinnati. Since I will be spending at least a couple of thousand dollars per year driving to school, clinicals, and back, this would negate any extra that she was making.
Couple that with the fact that it seems apparent we are going to have to pay more to rent the house than we previously (or should reasonably have) expected, it just seems like too much trouble and hassle to go up there now, be no better off or possibly even worse off financially, and also have me driving to and from Lexington 3 or 4 times a week. I’ve also recently discovered that one of the clinical sites for the LMR program I’m in is actually at the prison that sits almost within site of our house. One instructor has already said that this would be a good fit for me, as the person there is a very good teacher/mentor, and that she believes I would fit well in that site. How absurd would it be for me to be driving several times per week right back to our old house for clinical sites? I could practically walk there from where we live now.
Additionally, we’ve spoken with a realtor about our house, and because we have refinanced it twice, including just a few months ago, it would only list about $10K higher than what we still owe on it. When you figure that we’ll probably have to come down at least somewhat off the asking price, as well as the potential for buyers to want us to pay closing costs, and the 6% the realtor will take from the sale price, we could come out making next to nothing on the house. At best, we might make a couple thousand dollars. At worst, we could end up owing.
If Melanie could manage to get a job in the Princeton district, and/or if we could either live for free or for very, very low rent ($200 a month, maybe), then it might be one thing. But with us looking at Melanie only have a few thousand dollars more in her salary, and us only saving $350 or so per month in rent/mortgage, as well as the likelihood of not making much on selling our house, it just suddenly doesn’t seem like the best choice.
So, at this point, unless Melanie gets an opportunity in the next few weeks for an interview in the Princeton district, or a district with a similar pay scale, or unless her aunt suddenly has a change of heart about how much she wants to charge us to live in the house, we will most likely be staying here.
Regardless, I will have to find a new job come the end of summer, because, despite what we were told when we started in this program, there are no night clinicals currently available. So starting in September, I will have to be in clinical sites for 9 hours a day, during the day, about 2 or 3 days per week. So I won’t be able to work a regular business week job like I have now. I’ll almost certainly end up waiting tables again (which is what I would also probably be doing in Cincinnati). I’m not particularly looking forward to that, but one thing I did like about waiting tables was the hours. You can work 30 hours a week and bring home 350 in cash each week, and you don’t have to get up early.
Several things needed to come together in order for us to reasonably make the move up to Cincinnati, but it seems that instead of coming together, various roadblocks keep arising instead.
Primarily, Melanie needs to get a job in the Princeton district. Unfortunately, there don’t appear to be any openings right now, and she has also been told that any openings will likely be filled internally. That leaves her Mom’s district, and maybe a handful of others, but none of those pay as well as Princeton’s district. With the raise she will be getting here next year, there would only be a difference of a couple of thousand dollars per year if she got a job at one of these other districts in Cincinnati. Since I will be spending at least a couple of thousand dollars per year driving to school, clinicals, and back, this would negate any extra that she was making.
Couple that with the fact that it seems apparent we are going to have to pay more to rent the house than we previously (or should reasonably have) expected, it just seems like too much trouble and hassle to go up there now, be no better off or possibly even worse off financially, and also have me driving to and from Lexington 3 or 4 times a week. I’ve also recently discovered that one of the clinical sites for the LMR program I’m in is actually at the prison that sits almost within site of our house. One instructor has already said that this would be a good fit for me, as the person there is a very good teacher/mentor, and that she believes I would fit well in that site. How absurd would it be for me to be driving several times per week right back to our old house for clinical sites? I could practically walk there from where we live now.
Additionally, we’ve spoken with a realtor about our house, and because we have refinanced it twice, including just a few months ago, it would only list about $10K higher than what we still owe on it. When you figure that we’ll probably have to come down at least somewhat off the asking price, as well as the potential for buyers to want us to pay closing costs, and the 6% the realtor will take from the sale price, we could come out making next to nothing on the house. At best, we might make a couple thousand dollars. At worst, we could end up owing.
If Melanie could manage to get a job in the Princeton district, and/or if we could either live for free or for very, very low rent ($200 a month, maybe), then it might be one thing. But with us looking at Melanie only have a few thousand dollars more in her salary, and us only saving $350 or so per month in rent/mortgage, as well as the likelihood of not making much on selling our house, it just suddenly doesn’t seem like the best choice.
So, at this point, unless Melanie gets an opportunity in the next few weeks for an interview in the Princeton district, or a district with a similar pay scale, or unless her aunt suddenly has a change of heart about how much she wants to charge us to live in the house, we will most likely be staying here.
Regardless, I will have to find a new job come the end of summer, because, despite what we were told when we started in this program, there are no night clinicals currently available. So starting in September, I will have to be in clinical sites for 9 hours a day, during the day, about 2 or 3 days per week. So I won’t be able to work a regular business week job like I have now. I’ll almost certainly end up waiting tables again (which is what I would also probably be doing in Cincinnati). I’m not particularly looking forward to that, but one thing I did like about waiting tables was the hours. You can work 30 hours a week and bring home 350 in cash each week, and you don’t have to get up early.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Satan's Got a New Golfing Buddy in Hell
Well, in case you hadn’t heard, let the joyous news be spread, the wicked old witch at last is dead.
Of course, my initial feeling upon hearing of Jerry Falwell’s untimely passing (untimely because it didn’t happen 30 years ago) was happiness. It’s not often that I feel that way upon finding out that someone has died. I can feel compassion for his family, particularly for any grandchildren he had who didn’t know him as the monster he was, but rather simply as Granddad (although I feel more compassion for the fact that they had to have him as a grandfather). But when someone has dedicated their life’s work to spreading hate, intolerance, and bigotry, any compassion for their passing is forfeited.
Jerry Falwell dedicated his life to pushing our society, and indeed our world, back toward the Dark Ages, and we are all now the beneficiaries of the evil he spread in this world.
A USAToday article I read said the following:
Falwell is at least partly responsible for the influx of the religious right in our current political situation, mass media, and public consciousness. When Christian fundamentalism was dying in the 1960’s and 1970’s, it was Falwell who helped to resurrect it in the 1980’s, not only as a dominant religious force, but a dominant political one too. Falwell has, single-handedly, done more to damage this country, and our world, than just about any single figure in the last 30 years.
Here are a few gems right from the horse’s mouth:
“AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals; it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals.”
“Any sex outside of the marriage bond between a man and a woman is violating God's law.”
“Billy Graham is the chief servant of Satan in America.”
“Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions.”
“God himself preserved the Bible, and brought it down through the ages.”
“I am such a strong admirer and supporter of George W. Bush that if he suggested eliminating the income tax or doubling it, I would vote yes on first blush.”
“I believe that global warming is a myth. And so, therefore, I have no conscience problems at all and I'm going to buy a Suburban next time.”
“If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being.”
And, of course, the penultimate statement, on the 700 Club, right after 9/11:
“I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say ‘you helped this happen.’”
As a person who attempts, in my every day life, to live a Godly life, centered around the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth – teachings that stressed love, forgiveness, compassion, and abundance of life – I am trying very hard to find someway to be compassionate about this person. The best I can do is state that if God exists as a supernatural being the way that most religions define God, I would hope that this God would somehow find a way to offer mercy, compassion, and forgiveness even to someone like Jerry Falwell. Maybe such a God is capable of that.
But whether God is merciful to Jerry Falwell or not, those of us still living on earth are left with his legacy, and must clean up the messy repercussions of the prominent life he used for evil, hate, and diabolical anti-intellectualism. What a shame that a Christian with such ambition and such gifts of oratory and leadership couldn’t have used them to further the Christ-centered message of love, acceptance, abundant life, and personal growth. Instead, he used his gifts to destroy those things.
May God have mercy on this monster’s soul.
Of course, my initial feeling upon hearing of Jerry Falwell’s untimely passing (untimely because it didn’t happen 30 years ago) was happiness. It’s not often that I feel that way upon finding out that someone has died. I can feel compassion for his family, particularly for any grandchildren he had who didn’t know him as the monster he was, but rather simply as Granddad (although I feel more compassion for the fact that they had to have him as a grandfather). But when someone has dedicated their life’s work to spreading hate, intolerance, and bigotry, any compassion for their passing is forfeited.
Jerry Falwell dedicated his life to pushing our society, and indeed our world, back toward the Dark Ages, and we are all now the beneficiaries of the evil he spread in this world.
A USAToday article I read said the following:
...the controversial Southern Baptist minister from Lynchburg, Va., launched a political force that would help elect two presidents and install a Republican-controlled Congress.
“He will be remembered as one of the originators of the movement of conservative Christians, especially evangelical Protestants, to bring traditional values back into public policy by means of politics,” said John Green, a political scientist at the University of Akron.
“He was at the genesis of the religious right,” said Marshall Wittmann, legislative director of the Christian Coalition from 1993 to 1995 and now a veteran Capitol Hill aide.
Falwell is at least partly responsible for the influx of the religious right in our current political situation, mass media, and public consciousness. When Christian fundamentalism was dying in the 1960’s and 1970’s, it was Falwell who helped to resurrect it in the 1980’s, not only as a dominant religious force, but a dominant political one too. Falwell has, single-handedly, done more to damage this country, and our world, than just about any single figure in the last 30 years.
Here are a few gems right from the horse’s mouth:
“AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals; it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals.”
“Any sex outside of the marriage bond between a man and a woman is violating God's law.”
“Billy Graham is the chief servant of Satan in America.”
“Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions.”
“God himself preserved the Bible, and brought it down through the ages.”
“I am such a strong admirer and supporter of George W. Bush that if he suggested eliminating the income tax or doubling it, I would vote yes on first blush.”
“I believe that global warming is a myth. And so, therefore, I have no conscience problems at all and I'm going to buy a Suburban next time.”
“If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being.”
And, of course, the penultimate statement, on the 700 Club, right after 9/11:
“I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say ‘you helped this happen.’”
As a person who attempts, in my every day life, to live a Godly life, centered around the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth – teachings that stressed love, forgiveness, compassion, and abundance of life – I am trying very hard to find someway to be compassionate about this person. The best I can do is state that if God exists as a supernatural being the way that most religions define God, I would hope that this God would somehow find a way to offer mercy, compassion, and forgiveness even to someone like Jerry Falwell. Maybe such a God is capable of that.
But whether God is merciful to Jerry Falwell or not, those of us still living on earth are left with his legacy, and must clean up the messy repercussions of the prominent life he used for evil, hate, and diabolical anti-intellectualism. What a shame that a Christian with such ambition and such gifts of oratory and leadership couldn’t have used them to further the Christ-centered message of love, acceptance, abundant life, and personal growth. Instead, he used his gifts to destroy those things.
May God have mercy on this monster’s soul.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Ode to My Mother
My mother was born in rural western Kentucky, the daughter of a coal miner and a housewife who never learned to drive a car. She grew up in a house that had a grocery store and gas station in the front room, and she proudly wore a high school letterman’s jacket that displayed her prowess as a cymbal player in the marching band.
Shipped off to college in the late ‘60’s to get her MRS degree, she met and married my father a few weeks prior to her 20th birthday. My father had just graduated and was slated to go to Germany as part of his ROTC obligation. They boarded a plane a few weeks after they were married. It was the summer of 1970.
They spent 4 years in Europe, traveling throughout the continent, and bringing my sister into the world in 1972. They returned in 1974 when my father’s obligation to Uncle Sam was finished. They moved into a house in Lexington, Kentucky and my father started graduate school. I was born in February of 1975.
My earliest specific memory of my mother is hard to categorize. I have a number of snapshot memories from that old house in Lexington, but it’s hard to separate real ones from pictures or stories I have seen or heard. We moved from that house in 1978 to Louisville, when I was 3, and when I think of memories from that first Louisville house, it’s hard for me to categorize a timeline of when certain events/memories took place. Suffice it to say, my earliest memories of my mother are centered around feelings of warmth, comfort, safety, and an overabundance of love. Funny thing is, when I think of my Mom now, it’s still that way.
Next to holidays, I think my favorite early memories of my mother are centered around trips to the mall on quiet weekdays when all the big kids (including my sister) were in school, and I had my Mom all to myself. She’d get me a sugar cookie at the store in the mall, and if I was really lucky an Orange Julius. I remember being fascinated by the trees that grew out of the mall floor. I loved those trips to the mall with her.
As I grew older, my mother never seemed to fall out of touch. She was always there for me, was always the consummate “cool” Mom. She let me skip school, she gave me money to go out with my friends, she rarely nagged (except about leaving my shoes or my coat lying around), and she always tried to be interested in the things I was interested in.
My mother is kind, personable, selfless, self-disciplined, hard working, and generous. She comes from simple roots, but has never used that as an excuse for intellectual stagnation. She is intelligent, worldly, and urban, but she is also simple, laid back, and easy going. She is a world traveler, a successful nurse and medical center administrator, and she is well-liked and respected by her peers. She’s also extremely humble, which may be one of her more endearing qualities.
My mother has a seemingly boundless capacity for love. This is the most important thing she has taught me. Generosity, compassion, kindness, good humor – those are all hallmarks of who my mother is. It’s not a platitude when I say that I have the quintessential mother – the perfect mom.
So since it is too frequently deserved and far too rarely spoken, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell my mother that she is wonderful, intelligent, inspiring, caring, loving, generous, and, most of all, the best mom in the world. I would not be who I am, and I damn sure wouldn’t be where I am, if it were not for my mother.
I love you, Mom.
Shipped off to college in the late ‘60’s to get her MRS degree, she met and married my father a few weeks prior to her 20th birthday. My father had just graduated and was slated to go to Germany as part of his ROTC obligation. They boarded a plane a few weeks after they were married. It was the summer of 1970.
They spent 4 years in Europe, traveling throughout the continent, and bringing my sister into the world in 1972. They returned in 1974 when my father’s obligation to Uncle Sam was finished. They moved into a house in Lexington, Kentucky and my father started graduate school. I was born in February of 1975.
My earliest specific memory of my mother is hard to categorize. I have a number of snapshot memories from that old house in Lexington, but it’s hard to separate real ones from pictures or stories I have seen or heard. We moved from that house in 1978 to Louisville, when I was 3, and when I think of memories from that first Louisville house, it’s hard for me to categorize a timeline of when certain events/memories took place. Suffice it to say, my earliest memories of my mother are centered around feelings of warmth, comfort, safety, and an overabundance of love. Funny thing is, when I think of my Mom now, it’s still that way.
Next to holidays, I think my favorite early memories of my mother are centered around trips to the mall on quiet weekdays when all the big kids (including my sister) were in school, and I had my Mom all to myself. She’d get me a sugar cookie at the store in the mall, and if I was really lucky an Orange Julius. I remember being fascinated by the trees that grew out of the mall floor. I loved those trips to the mall with her.
As I grew older, my mother never seemed to fall out of touch. She was always there for me, was always the consummate “cool” Mom. She let me skip school, she gave me money to go out with my friends, she rarely nagged (except about leaving my shoes or my coat lying around), and she always tried to be interested in the things I was interested in.
My mother is kind, personable, selfless, self-disciplined, hard working, and generous. She comes from simple roots, but has never used that as an excuse for intellectual stagnation. She is intelligent, worldly, and urban, but she is also simple, laid back, and easy going. She is a world traveler, a successful nurse and medical center administrator, and she is well-liked and respected by her peers. She’s also extremely humble, which may be one of her more endearing qualities.
My mother has a seemingly boundless capacity for love. This is the most important thing she has taught me. Generosity, compassion, kindness, good humor – those are all hallmarks of who my mother is. It’s not a platitude when I say that I have the quintessential mother – the perfect mom.
So since it is too frequently deserved and far too rarely spoken, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell my mother that she is wonderful, intelligent, inspiring, caring, loving, generous, and, most of all, the best mom in the world. I would not be who I am, and I damn sure wouldn’t be where I am, if it were not for my mother.
I love you, Mom.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The Flight of Rudolf Hess
Sixty-six years ago today – May 10, 1941 – Nazi Party Deputy Führer Rudolf Hess parachuted into Scotland, apparently in the hopes of negotiating peace with the British in light of the coming war with the Soviet Union.
Hess had been born to German parents in Alexandria, Egypt, but returned to the Fatherland as a young teenager. He wanted to be an astronomer, but his business-minded father insisted that he attend school in Switzerland at a business college. Already 20 at the outbreak of World War I, Hess took the opportunity to escape the rule of his tyrannical father and joined the infantry. He served at the battle of Ypres in 1915, and later in Romania. He was wounded twice, earning an Iron Cross 2nd Class. He later transferred to the air service and flew Fokker D.VII’s for JG 35 in the last few weeks of the war, though he was not credited with any kills.
After the war, Hess, like so many other embittered German veterans, joined the Freikorps, a right wing paramilitary outfit that sprang up in post-war Germany, fighting, among other things, to put down Communist uprisings. He was also reputed to be a member of the Thule Society, an anti-Jew and anti-Communist occult group that later gave Hitler the basis for such Nazi ideas as the primacy of the Aryan race, the use of the swastika as a party symbol, and Jewish extermination.
Hess first met Adolph Hitler in 1920, after hearing Hitler speak. He soon joined Hitler’s budding organization, officially as the 16th member. He took part in the Bier Hall Putsch of 1923, and served 7 and a half months in prison as a result. About this same time, he began serving as Hitler’s secretary, and was the primary editor for Hitler’s book Mein Kampf. He very quickly rose to become Deputy Führer of the Nazi Party and third in command after Hitler and Hermann Göring. Göring, of course, was another former World War I aviator.
Although he maintained his high position in Hitler’s inner circle, he grew increasingly disenfranchised during the 1930’s as others began to grow more powerful within the Nazi hierarchy.
Be that as it may, by May of 1941, Hess was still a right hand man to Hitler and a devoted Nazi to the core.
Hitler and Hess
To this day, the exact circumstances surrounding Hess’s flight on May 10th of that year are unknown. Ostensibly, Hess decided, on his own, to solve the problem of the coming 2-front war for Germany by flying to England to negotiate peace. This, he apparently believed, would help to restore his influence within the Nazi hierarchy. His plan was to meet with the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon, who was an influential commander in the Royal Air Force (he was in charge of the air defense of Scotland), but was suspected, by the Germans anyway, of being a Nazi sympathizer. The Duke had visited Germany a number of times during the 1930’s and had rubbed shoulders with many of the Nazi leadership, including Hitler and Göring. Göring, in fact, had given him a personal invitation to inspect the newly formed Luftwaffe only several years prior to the outbreak of war.
So, presumably acting completely on his own, Hess took off on the evening of May 10, 1941, bound for Scotland. Knowing he would have nowhere to safely land, he parachuted from his plane over southern Scotland, landing on a farm in Eaglesham, just south of Glasgow.
The wreckage of Hess's Messerschmitt in Scotland
Apparently believing he was at or near Dungavel House – the summer estate of the Duke, which was in the same area – Hess limped on a broken ankle to the door of the workman’s cottage nearby and asked to be taken to the Duke, providing the name “Albert Horn” to the dumbstruck farmer.
Instead of taking him to the Duke, the farmer, a man named David McLean, transported him to a local hospital, promising to summon the Duke for him. When Hamilton arrived, Hess admitted to him who he was and told him why he had come. He outlined a plan of peace with England that included returning all European lands to their original nationality, but keeping German police located throughout. Germany would agree to pay to rebuild these countries, but England would have to support the German war against the Soviet Union. Hamilton, realizing that Hess did not, apparently, represent the official German government, and realizing that Hess appeared to be mentally unstable, immediately contacted Winston Churchill. Hess was taken into custody of the British, where he remained a prisoner of war until 1945.
Shortly after his imprisonment, Hitler publicly announced that Hess had not been on any sort of official mission, and that he had gone insane. He arrested and imprisoned most of Hess’s staff and replaced Hess with Martin Bormann – who would later become another influential Nazi figure. Upon hearing of these things, Hess told his interrogators that Hitler’s statements and actions were part of a pre-arranged plan in case the mission failed, in order to save face for the Nazi party. Hess was seen throughout his time in England by a British psychiatrist who determined that he was not, in fact, insane, but was mentally ill and was severely depressed.
Tried with other Nazi criminals at Nüremberg, Hess appeared to go in and out of lucidity, though many believed it was an act. At one point he claimed to have amnesia. During one particularly lucid moment, Hess proudly proclaimed his devotion to the Nazi party, assuring the court that, if he could do it all over, he would not change a thing. His behavior was so disconcerting that Hermann Göring asked for a seat away from him. This request was denied.
The Nüremberg trial, Hess seated 2nd from left, next to Göring
Hess was found guilty of crimes against peace, as well as conspiracy, and sentenced to life in prison at Spandau Prison, in West Berlin. He was found not guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity.
Spandau Prison
Hess lived well into the 1980’s, spending the last 10 years or so of his life as the jail’s only prisoner, before finally committing suicide at the age of 93, in 1987.
A rare photo of Hess at Spandau on one of his daily walks
Even his death is shrouded in mystery, as many, including his son, believe the British secret service actually assassinated him. For many years, there had been talk of pardoning him, due to his mental illness and old age. Even Winston Churchill and other prominent British leaders expressed publicly that they felt his lifetime incarceration was unjust. By 1987, such a pardon seemed imminent. It is believed by many – though not supported by any hard evidence – that the British killed him to ensure that no embarrassing secrets were revealed upon his release. Many believe the British were, in fact, involved in peace talks with Germany during that period of 1941, and many believe that the British, in fact, had known that Hess was coming, but later balked at making peace with Germany, instead plunging England into another 4 years of war.
After Hess’s death, Spandau Prison was demolished, to keep it from becoming a neo-nazi shrine.
As a postscript, Greg Illes’ excellent novel Spandau Phoenix (Barnes & Noble Link) is centered around the Hess conspiracy, and follows one theory that has suggested the prisoner in Spandau all those years was not Hess at all, but a double. I highly recommend it to anyone who likes thriller novels centered around World War II intrigue.
Hess had been born to German parents in Alexandria, Egypt, but returned to the Fatherland as a young teenager. He wanted to be an astronomer, but his business-minded father insisted that he attend school in Switzerland at a business college. Already 20 at the outbreak of World War I, Hess took the opportunity to escape the rule of his tyrannical father and joined the infantry. He served at the battle of Ypres in 1915, and later in Romania. He was wounded twice, earning an Iron Cross 2nd Class. He later transferred to the air service and flew Fokker D.VII’s for JG 35 in the last few weeks of the war, though he was not credited with any kills.
After the war, Hess, like so many other embittered German veterans, joined the Freikorps, a right wing paramilitary outfit that sprang up in post-war Germany, fighting, among other things, to put down Communist uprisings. He was also reputed to be a member of the Thule Society, an anti-Jew and anti-Communist occult group that later gave Hitler the basis for such Nazi ideas as the primacy of the Aryan race, the use of the swastika as a party symbol, and Jewish extermination.
Hess first met Adolph Hitler in 1920, after hearing Hitler speak. He soon joined Hitler’s budding organization, officially as the 16th member. He took part in the Bier Hall Putsch of 1923, and served 7 and a half months in prison as a result. About this same time, he began serving as Hitler’s secretary, and was the primary editor for Hitler’s book Mein Kampf. He very quickly rose to become Deputy Führer of the Nazi Party and third in command after Hitler and Hermann Göring. Göring, of course, was another former World War I aviator.
Although he maintained his high position in Hitler’s inner circle, he grew increasingly disenfranchised during the 1930’s as others began to grow more powerful within the Nazi hierarchy.
Be that as it may, by May of 1941, Hess was still a right hand man to Hitler and a devoted Nazi to the core.
Hitler and Hess
To this day, the exact circumstances surrounding Hess’s flight on May 10th of that year are unknown. Ostensibly, Hess decided, on his own, to solve the problem of the coming 2-front war for Germany by flying to England to negotiate peace. This, he apparently believed, would help to restore his influence within the Nazi hierarchy. His plan was to meet with the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon, who was an influential commander in the Royal Air Force (he was in charge of the air defense of Scotland), but was suspected, by the Germans anyway, of being a Nazi sympathizer. The Duke had visited Germany a number of times during the 1930’s and had rubbed shoulders with many of the Nazi leadership, including Hitler and Göring. Göring, in fact, had given him a personal invitation to inspect the newly formed Luftwaffe only several years prior to the outbreak of war.
So, presumably acting completely on his own, Hess took off on the evening of May 10, 1941, bound for Scotland. Knowing he would have nowhere to safely land, he parachuted from his plane over southern Scotland, landing on a farm in Eaglesham, just south of Glasgow.
The wreckage of Hess's Messerschmitt in Scotland
Apparently believing he was at or near Dungavel House – the summer estate of the Duke, which was in the same area – Hess limped on a broken ankle to the door of the workman’s cottage nearby and asked to be taken to the Duke, providing the name “Albert Horn” to the dumbstruck farmer.
Instead of taking him to the Duke, the farmer, a man named David McLean, transported him to a local hospital, promising to summon the Duke for him. When Hamilton arrived, Hess admitted to him who he was and told him why he had come. He outlined a plan of peace with England that included returning all European lands to their original nationality, but keeping German police located throughout. Germany would agree to pay to rebuild these countries, but England would have to support the German war against the Soviet Union. Hamilton, realizing that Hess did not, apparently, represent the official German government, and realizing that Hess appeared to be mentally unstable, immediately contacted Winston Churchill. Hess was taken into custody of the British, where he remained a prisoner of war until 1945.
Shortly after his imprisonment, Hitler publicly announced that Hess had not been on any sort of official mission, and that he had gone insane. He arrested and imprisoned most of Hess’s staff and replaced Hess with Martin Bormann – who would later become another influential Nazi figure. Upon hearing of these things, Hess told his interrogators that Hitler’s statements and actions were part of a pre-arranged plan in case the mission failed, in order to save face for the Nazi party. Hess was seen throughout his time in England by a British psychiatrist who determined that he was not, in fact, insane, but was mentally ill and was severely depressed.
Tried with other Nazi criminals at Nüremberg, Hess appeared to go in and out of lucidity, though many believed it was an act. At one point he claimed to have amnesia. During one particularly lucid moment, Hess proudly proclaimed his devotion to the Nazi party, assuring the court that, if he could do it all over, he would not change a thing. His behavior was so disconcerting that Hermann Göring asked for a seat away from him. This request was denied.
The Nüremberg trial, Hess seated 2nd from left, next to Göring
Hess was found guilty of crimes against peace, as well as conspiracy, and sentenced to life in prison at Spandau Prison, in West Berlin. He was found not guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity.
Spandau Prison
Hess lived well into the 1980’s, spending the last 10 years or so of his life as the jail’s only prisoner, before finally committing suicide at the age of 93, in 1987.
A rare photo of Hess at Spandau on one of his daily walks
Even his death is shrouded in mystery, as many, including his son, believe the British secret service actually assassinated him. For many years, there had been talk of pardoning him, due to his mental illness and old age. Even Winston Churchill and other prominent British leaders expressed publicly that they felt his lifetime incarceration was unjust. By 1987, such a pardon seemed imminent. It is believed by many – though not supported by any hard evidence – that the British killed him to ensure that no embarrassing secrets were revealed upon his release. Many believe the British were, in fact, involved in peace talks with Germany during that period of 1941, and many believe that the British, in fact, had known that Hess was coming, but later balked at making peace with Germany, instead plunging England into another 4 years of war.
After Hess’s death, Spandau Prison was demolished, to keep it from becoming a neo-nazi shrine.
As a postscript, Greg Illes’ excellent novel Spandau Phoenix (Barnes & Noble Link) is centered around the Hess conspiracy, and follows one theory that has suggested the prisoner in Spandau all those years was not Hess at all, but a double. I highly recommend it to anyone who likes thriller novels centered around World War II intrigue.
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