Scary Thoughts

Opinions are like navels. Everybody has one. But some people, when they state their opinions, are more influential than others. Occasionally, some very influential people make statements that make my hair stand on end.

I remember when a former governor of Colorado said that we should not give medicine to anyone over 70 to help ease our health care burden. Hmmm. That’s a scary thought.

Well, here are some other scary ideas which some rather influential people have been asserting. Some of this would be funny, except they aren’t kidding.

The right to have children should be a marketable commodity, bought and traded by individuals but absolutely limited by the state. —Kenneth Boulding, originator of the “Spaceship Earth” concept (as quoted by William Tucker in Progress and Privilege, 1982)

We have wished, we ecofreaks, for a disaster or for a social change to come and bomb us into Stone Age, where we might live like Indians in our valley, with our localism, our appropriate technology, our gardens, our homemade religion—guilt-free at last! —Stewart Brand (writing in the Whole Earth Catalogue)

We must make this an insecure and inhospitable place for capitalists and their projects…. We must reclaim the roads and plowed land, halt dam construction, tear down existing dams, free shackled rivers and return to wilderness millions of tens of millions of acres of presently settled land. —David Foreman, Earth First!

Everything we have developed over the last 100 years should be destroyed. —Pentti Linkola

If you ask me, it’d be a little short of disastrous for us to discover a source of clean, cheap, abundant energy because of what we would do with it. We ought to be looking for energy sources that are adequate for our needs, but that won’t give us the excesses of concentrated energy with which we could do mischief to the earth or to each other. —Amory Lovins in The Mother Earth–Plowboy Interview, Nov/Dec 1977, p.22

The only real good technology is no technology at all. Technology is taxation without representation, imposed by our elitist species (man) upon the rest of the natural world. —John Shuttleworth

What we’ve got to do in energy conservation is try to ride the global warming issue. Even if the theory of global warming is wrong, to have approached global warming as if it is real means energy conservation, so we will be doing the right thing anyway in terms of economic policy and environmental policy. —Timothy Wirth, former U.S. Senator, Colorado

I suspect that eradicating smallpox was wrong. It played an important part in balancing ecosystems. —John Davis, editor of Earth First! Journal

Human beings, as a species, have no more value than slugs. —John Davis, editor of Earth First! Journal

The extinction of the human species may not only be inevitable but a good thing....This is not to say that the rise of human civilization is insignificant, but there is no way of showing that it will be much help to the world in the long run. —Economist editorial

Phasing out the human race will solve every problem on earth, social and environmental. —Dave Forman, Founder of Earth First!

If radical environmentalists were to invent a disease to bring human populations back to sanity, it would probably be something like AIDS —Earth First! Newsletter

Human happiness, and certainly human fecundity, is not as important as a wild and healthy planets…Some of us can only hope for the right virus to come along. —David Graber, biologist, National Park Service

The collective needs of non-human species must take precedence over the needs and desires of humans. —Dr. Reed F. Noss, The Wildlands Project

If I were reincarnated, I would wish to be returned to Earth as a killer virus to lower human population levels. —Prince Phillip, World Wildlife Fund

Cannibalism is a “radical but realistic solution to the problem of overpopulation.” —Lyall Watson, The Financial Times, 15 July 1995

We, in the green movement, aspire to a cultural model in which killing a forest will be considered more contemptible and more criminal than the sale of 6-year-old children to Asian brothels. —Carl Amery

To feed a starving child is to exacerbate the world population problem. —Lamont Cole

The only hope for the world is to make sure there is not another United States: We can’t let other countries have the same number of cars, the amount of industrialization, we have in the U.S. We have to stop these Third World countries right where they are. And it is important to the rest of the world to make sure that they don’t suffer economically by virtue of our stopping them. —Michael Oppenheimer, Environmental Defense Fund

Modern Times

The version de jour fone rife with strife, devouring all things subordinate, denying and decrying the wicker schemes of gold diggers. Destructo environs dementia, with a buzzing sound expelled from twin rods, speeding up through the wheels of progress. Modern times, the scrip of scraps and all things hinging on bolt tightening individuals cranking and cragging through eight hour shifts, till speed exceeds the capabilities of sanity. Twitch and itch, demeaning dementia, the work of maddening and monstrous systems, pressing forward as if progress were measured in output.

Charlie Chaplin, in his exemplary role, defying the times. Depth of understated volley gags, within a format rare, the lost air of former fair as dream shifts to realidades, formenting insurrection and other confections. Her smile a favored robust dream, frequentd by denial. Vagrant fortunes, undismissed, defying vagrant summer mist. No question how it came to this, the drilling cakes of cheese and wine, cracker service overtime, denying hours of luscious pain and driving patrons to the vein of measured and unmeasured schemes. If only we could live in dreams.

No matter how you cut it, this roast duck is no Finnegan's Wake... just a simple facsimile. Knock over the tables and when he who is able rises up, let him be first to cherish the cup.

Two Books, Two Movies

As far as I'm concerned, it was a pretty weak year for films. What I mean is that beginning with spring there were almost no compelling movies playing at the theaters till the very end of 2007. Pirates III with Johnny Depp got a nod from critics and fans as better than Pirates II, but it wasn't enough to make me want to give up an evening or afternoon. I have plenty else on my plate, thank you. I took a chance this fall on Across the Universe, which was entertaining. But for the most part, I did my movie watching at home.

On the other hand, I have read or listened to a lot of very good books this year. One way to get more reading time squeezed in to your life is to listen to books while you commute. Any good library will offer plenty of books on CD or tape for those so inclined. This has been a habit of mine for perhaps eight years now, listening to audio books and lectures.

To my surprise, two books that I found especially engaging in 2007 were made into movies that have been released here in mid-to-late December. The first, No Country for Old Men, by Carson McCormac; the second, Charlie Wilson's War, by George Crile. The full title of this latter book is, Charlie Wilson's War: The Extraordinary Story of How the Wildest Man in Congress and a Rogue CIA Agent Changed the History of Our Times.

Crile's book is a remarkable read. Purportedly the true story of how Congressman Charlie Wilson led the charge to fund the Afghan resistance, the book is both entertaining and disturbing. Well researched and detailed, it does not drag. The scary part for me, however, is that it proves what I have always said about our federal government: It is too big and out of control.

For this reason alone it is an important book. It shows how Washington works.... or doesn't. Or does in spite of itself in some ways.

Like many books interpreting history, it may be a little overboard in crediting Wilson with ending the cold war (almost single-handedly). But the proposition is intriguing and has at least some partial merit. What he accomplished was no less than astounding.

So when to my surprise I saw a trailer for Charlie Wilson's War coming to theaters, I was really looking forward to it, and hoping they did not botch the story. Just so you know, the film was a superb adaptation. Tom Hanks was good, of course, and Julia Roberts played her role well, but the screen play is what made it all work. It would have been so easy to have gotten lost in the details and to have made a lengthy, wearisome but "important" film. Instead it was a tight story with solid performances throughout. Kudos to director Mike Nichols (The Graduate, Catch-22) and a big round of applause for Philip Seymour Hoffman whose range of characterizations is astonishing. The contrast between Capote and Gust Avrokotos is remarkable.

The film had any number of places where it could have become derailed. Instead, Nichols maintained the discipline necessary to make this a highly entertaining and thought provoking experience.

I'll save my comments on No Country for another day.

The Man and the Birds

Unable to trace its proper parentage, I have designated this as my Christmas Story of the Man and the Birds. You know, THE Christmas Story, the God born a man in a manger and all that escapes some moderns, mostly, I think, because they seek complex answers to their questions and this one is so utterly simple. So for the cynics and the skeptics and the unconvinced I submit a modern parable.

Now the man to whom I'm going to introduce you was not a scrooge, he was a kind, decent, mostly good man. He was generous to his family and upright in his dealings with other men but he just didn't believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at Christmas Time. It just didn't make sense and he was too honest to pretend otherwise. He just couldn't swallow the Jesus Story, about God coming to Earth as a man. "I'm truly sorry to distress you," he told his wife, "but I'm not going with you to church this Christmas Eve." He said he'd feel like a hypocrite. That he'd much rather just stay at home, but that he would wait up for them. And so he stayed and they went to the midnight service.

Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier and then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper. Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound. Then another, and then another. The strange muted sound was sort of a thump or a thud. At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. But when he went to the front door to investigate he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They'd been caught in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large landscape window.

Well, he couldn't just let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter, if he could direct the birds to it. Quickly he put on a coat, galoshes, tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on a light, but the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them in. So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway of the stable. But to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs, and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow. He tried catching them. He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms. Instead, they scattered in every direction, except into the warm, lighted barn.

And then, he realized that they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature. If only I could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me, that I am not trying to hurt them, but help them. But how? Because any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared him. "If only I could be a bird," he thought to himself, "and mingle with them and speak their language. Then I could tell them not to be afraid. Then I could show them the way to safe, warm ...to the safe warm barn. But I would have to be one of them so they could see, and hear and understand."

At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above the sounds of the wind. And he stood there listening to the bells - Adeste Fidelis - listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. Then, the man who just a few minutes ago had thought Christmas such a ridiculous folly, felt understanding dawn in his spirit. and slowly sank to his knees in the snow.

"And they shall call Him: Wonderful, Counselor, the Prince of Peace, the Almighty God, the Everlasting Father." ~ Isaiah 9:6

Narrative by Paul Harvey

It Happened One Night

"Just ask me and I'll show you the scars" ~ Bob Dylan

So I did a short stand up routine last night at the Dubh Linn, an Irish Pub here in downtown Duluth. It was "open mic" night, which they do every other Monday I guess. I've been scribbling ideas for comedic material the past month since getting bit by the bug. My goal was to assemble a modest routine and take a stab at it in January. But hey, things don't always go as planned. When I walked in the room, the MC asked if I was going to perform. It seemed like I was the only one there who wasn't, so I caved in. That's how peer pressure works.

Sometimes when you have insomnia your mind travels down some amusing tributaries. One night, while doing a little mental rambling, I began cultivating humorous anecdotes about my various scars. I figured that I could just talk about my scars and it would be enough material to fill a routine.

My real aim was just to see what it was like standing on the stage with a bright light in your face. It's a little different than your living room. More like an interrogation scene at the cop station in the fifties.

I began with that very painful scar which I received on my heart when my father called me stupid in front of the whole neighborhood. Actually, I began by talking about the Darwin Awards, which are famously given to people who do really dumb things and eliminate themselves from the gene pool. Well, in listening to an audio book about the fourth annual Darwin Awards, the very first story is about a guy who jumped out of a moving car.

Whoa. Now, you probably think that is stupid. He was killed, and it was certainly a dumb thing to do. But when I did it, and I was twelve at the time, jumping out of a convertible on the way home from a Little League game, when I did it, it sure did not seem that stupid to me at the time. I just thought I would hop right out and up onto the yard and say hello to the girl I liked and it would be very cool. To my surprise, I slammed into the asphalt like a wet noodle being whipped against a table. Except there were these large limestone rocks and gravel there, which made the experience a tad less palatable. It was at this point that my father came running across the yard shouting, "You stupid!" Followed by a less shrill, "You could have been killed."

About forty-five years later, I realized that sometimes dads are right. Duh.

It took me quite a while to get over that hurt. Needless to say, I don't think Robin was impressed as I hoped she would be.

As for the rest of my scars, or rather, my routine.... well, according to the limited feedback I received I have to shorten my setups. I could also probably use some punch lines. Some funny material would help a little, too.

We'll keep you posted.

How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

Don't know why I had this thought a few days ago, but I decided to see what I could find about the notion by doing a little Googling. Evidently, the roots of the question come from an effort by medieval thinkers to apply logic and rational analysis to heretofore "spiritual" questions. These efforts toward increasing specificity resulted in making a mockery of the subsequent discourse.

Here are a few notes from my research about this important question:

“Scornful description of a tedious concern with irrelevant details; an allusion to religious controversies in the middle ages. In fact, the medieval argument was over how many angels could stand on the point of a pin.”

The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition. 2002

The question "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" is an example of an ontological argument - one which cannot be proven, as it has no basis in scientific fact. It has also been at times used as a trite dismissal: of medieval angelology in particular, of scholasticism in general, and of particular figures such as Duns Scotus and Thomas Aquinas. Another variety of the question is How Many Angels Can Sit On The Head Of A Pin?
Wikipedia, December 2007

The question "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" is associated with medieval theology of the Scholastic school, the best-known representative being Saint Thomas Aquinas, the 13th-century Christian philosopher (and a Dominican monk). I'm not sure that Aquinas originated the question; maybe someone with a better grounding in Catholic thought can help us out. Nowadays the question often appears when someone is ridiculing theologians, but I believe the drift of the original discussion about angels and pinheads concerned infinity and different kinds of being. Something like this: Angels aren't spatial, and so an infinite number of them could occupy a point.
R. Berg, blog entry, 2002

Well, now you know where the saying comes from. And maybe you didn't really care... or maybe, like some of us, you get a thrill from knowing that there are still mysteries in life that science can't explain.

A Trip to the Morgue

This is a follow up to yesterday's blog entry regarding Jon Lacore's short term medical mission to Haiti's impoverished Cite Soleil.

Jon's most memorable moment in Haiti was far from his most enjoyable. On Thursday he and Chris, a volunteer from Vermont, joined Father Rick on his weekly trip to the morgue. “I’d seen dead bodies in Iraq,” said Lacore, “and you learn to distance yourself emotionally.” But the morgue in Cite Soleil was so inhumane that he and Chris were stunned. The bodies were just thrown into piles in a semi-refrigerated room. More stunning still was the selfless service of Father Rick and his staff.

“Every week the nun and priest that we worked with go to the morgue to collect the bodies of babies and adults that have been found on the side of the streets. They bring paper mache coffins to bury them in. They fill these coffins with about 10-15 babies in each one. When there are no more babies they put adults in the remaining coffins. We filled 20 coffins,” he said. “About half were babies, and half were adults.”

Jon shared that he and Chris talked rather casually while driving to the morgue, but after seeing the piles of bodies and carrying them to the coffins, returning to the orphanage was another story. They were silent and reflective afterwards. Jon is still processing what he experienced, as am I though I was not even there.

“We took the coffins out to a designated area where some men went ahead of us to dig graves," he said. "We buried these coffins while Father Rick performed a Catholic burial ceremony. It was the most disturbing moment and yet I was very glad that I did it because it opened my eyes to the unbelievable selfless service of the parish we worked with. They wanted to give a human touch to the poor and destitute who die in the streets of Port Au Prince without families to care for them, or anyone for that matter.” For two decades or more Father Rick has faithfully returned to the morgue each Thursday to show respect for and dignify the deaths of these unknown and unnamed Haitians.

There may be as many as one billion people living in abject poverty in this world. May those who are devoted to the task of alleviating a measure of this suffering be encouraged and blessed.

A Smattering of Good Quotes

Someone once criticized me for using quotes from other people. He quoted Bill Gates to defend his position.

My interest in quoting comes by way of my mom who frequently made reference to Elbert Hubbard's Scrap Book. Hubbard was a collector of insights and pearls of wisdom from great minds and books that preceded him. A perpetual optimist, he created two magazines that proved influential at the dawn of the twentieth century. His Scrap Books were collections of insights and quotes. And for the whole of my life I have enjoyed the habit of "quote collecting."

I prefer utilizing quotes from my personal reading, lest it give the impression of putting on airs. But then again, there are so many pithy sayings and witticisms that others have collected, it seems a crime to leave them in the ditch when their illuminations are so apropos.

My favorite part of collecting quotes is that as you read and re-read them over the years, you internalize them. When a situation occurs, a pithy quote rolls off your tongue. (Or, frequently in my case, a line from a Dylan song.)

Here are some samples for today's meditation, and future utilization.

"Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet." ~ Rousseau

"Every man is a volume, if you know how to read him." ~ Channing

"When the state is most corrupt, then laws are most multiplied." ~ Tacitus

"I don't think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday." ~ Lincoln

"The greater the obstacle the more glory in overcoming it." ~ Moliere

"Every war is a national calamity, whether victorious or not." ~ Gen. Von Moltke

"Next to knowing when to seize an opportunity, the most important thing in life is knowing when to forego an advantage." ~ Disraeli

Words

A while back I read a book on advertising in which the author noted that words do not have meaning until we invest them with meaning. That is, words do not have meaning in themselves, but are just a shell that the hearer fills with meaning.

This idea immediately intrigued me for a couple reasons. First, because it explains why sometimes we say things and other people don’t know where we are coming from. Try describing New York City skyscrapers to people in East Africa who have never seen a two story hut. And what does "love" look like to people who today for whom the word love is only a sex act?

We say a word, and people hear something different than what we mean. The word Conservative is highly loaded these days. For some it means “family values” whereas for others it means narrow-minded bigots who (if they had their way) would become jack-booted, freedom-stealing fascists. To some the word Liberal means compassionate people who care for the less fortunate, and to others the word means anti-American, anti-business, tree-hugging communist or idealistic airhead.

The point is, we say a word, and it can be invested with a range of different meanings by the hearer. Words are like triggers that awaken meanings in the mind, often with a lot of emotional baggage attached.

Take the word God, for example. For many Christians this is far more than a word. It is the Almighty Creator, Yahweh, the high and holy one, awesome in power, who humbled Himself to die in shame to conquer death and make a way for us to be part of His great family. But if you say “God” in some circles, it means “a concept by which weak people comfort themselves.” Or perhaps a concept by which certain cynical people manipulate manipulate the masses and oppress others.

How are we to communicate in this world where words have become so divested of meaning? Think about it. What do you do when words no longer have any meaning? How do we reach people? How do we help meet needs or make a difference if we can’t use words?

The answer is ever the same: our lives are a book read by all. Our deeds communicate, even when words fail.

Let's not give up on words, but let's also remember that nothing speaks louder than our actions. When our words and deeds correspond, only then will we make a difference in this world.

Predictability and Determinism

"Radio talk show host Larry King was taking calls about God yesterday. He could not accept the notion that God knows the future, yet does not control us. That is, if God knows what I am going to do, how can I do otherwise? Like most people, Mr. King stumbles where Reason fails. The idea of Mystery is lost to modern man. Everything, supposedly, should make sense, should be explainable."
May 6, 1993

It's interesting to stumble upon this journal note this a.m. because last Friday evening in our philosophy club we gave attention to this very discussion. We have been listening to a series of lectures called The Great Ideas of Philosophy, and this month's lecture was on Augustine. Augustine injected an intellectual vigor back into the early church. Noting that although God cannot be perceived or achieved via Reason, the notion of God is not inconsistent with Reason or unreasonable.

At one point, the matter which Larry King struggled with was addressed. Dr. Robinson, the lecturerer, illustrated how it is possible for predictability to not be determinism. In other words, God can know the future without making it happen.

The reality is, that if the will were not free, we'd have a new dilemma: how can I be accountable for what I do?

It is fascinating to wrestle with these issues. Occassionally they result in some spirited debates. The quest for truth and meaning are worthy pursuits. Ultimately, we are seeking a basis for hope, a hope that is real and does not disappoint us.

"Squeezing life to wring out from it all I can take from each day."
May 18, 1993

Blackbirds

"We see through a glass dimly..."
~ I Corinthians 13:12a

Imagine a flock of blackbirds in flight. Several friends, upon spying the small cloud of birds, attempt to guess their number. One guesses twenty-five or so. Another guesses 20. A third insists there were at least thirty. But none of them, due to the brevity of their observation, is able to say with certainty the precise number of blackbirds they witnessed.

They discuss their experience for several minutes when one of them says, "How do we know we saw any blackbirds? None of us is in agreement. Maybe we didn't see any blackbirds at all." The others all agree that this fellow is a silly fool if he believes that kind of thinking.

And yet, the very same reasoning is used against the Church today, is it not? People have observed that the various denominations have differing ideas about Christian truth, about how to serve communion, about which Bible doctrines are most important. From here they sometimes draw a conclusion that Christianity and our ideas about God are whatever we want it to be. They conclude that truth is arbitrary and that we can choose to believe whatever we like, because one can never know for sure.

The reality, however, is wholly other. Moral truth is not arbitrary. We see its outlines in the cumulative understanding of all persons of conscience.

There was a definite number of blackbirds, even if we are not entirely in agreement as to what that number was. No logical person would conclude from our lack of agreement that there were no blackbirds at all. Or that there was an indefinite number of birds.

The quantity of birds was specific, even if we cannot say with certainty what that specific number was. So it is with God and truth. God is a being with very definite attributes.

Agnostics are fond of saying "We can't know whether there is a God." And many there are who say God is whatever you want him to be. But alas, that would be like saying there were as many blackbirds as we want there to be, instead of acknowledging that there was a specific number.

The Scriptures state clearly that if we seek Him we shall find Him. That is to say, we can know more and more what God is like. God has attributes and qualities that we can discover and know with greater clarity. And while we may only see through a glass darkly in this lifetime, there are many of us who have seen His hand at work, have heard His voice, even if only dimly, and know that one day we shall know Him, just as we could have counted -- if given the opportunity -- the precise number of those blackbirds.
July 11, 2002