"Oh, Brave New World!"

"In 1931, when Brave New World was being written, I was convinced that there was still plenty of time. The completely organized society, the scientific caste system, the abolition of free will by methodical conditioning, the servitude made acceptable by regular doses of chemically induced happiness, the orthodoxies drummed in by nightly courses of sleep-teaching -- these things were coming all right, but not in my time, not even in the time of my grandchildren." ~ Aldous Huxley

So begins Huxley's 1958 collection of essays titled Brave New World Revisited. The original story raised red flags about an engineered paradise six centuries off in the future. But less than three decades later Huxley published a book of disturbing observations, post-Hitler and Stalin, that much of what he outlined was happening more quickly than he imagined.

One of the themes in this world of tomorrow is consumerism. It is bad to mend clothes, fix broken things, to play sports that don't involve some kind of consumption of goods. Consumerism helps keep the wheels of progress turning. What an irony to hear the media drums beating this very same message in our 2008 recession economy. "Good heavens, people are not spending enough for Christmas this year!!!!" Oh, brave new world!

In Huxley's original vision of tomorrow, science had answers for all of life's unpleasantries. We wouldn't age, or ever have to be depressed, or ever have to deal with pain, physical or emotional. We are conditioned from conception to enjoy our station in life's socially engineered caste system.

Now that I just finished reading the original Brave New World this past week, I can't help but think today's genetic engineering projects, massive pharmaceutical industry and social manipulations would shock Huxley's shoelaces off and curl his toes.

What's surprising, there are many who would now propose that Huxley is a villain for scaring people away from the brave new world that awaits us as David Pearce argues here.

As we face tomorrow's tomorrows, there are real issues at stake. Central among them, what does it mean to be human? A soul, a person, a personality with mind, will, emotions... a creative force housed in a bio-system energized by a divine spark.

Another theme throughout the original novel was the end of family. No mothers and fathers. We were all twins by the score. Everyone belonged to everyone, and sexual pleasure was with all, indiscriminate. Every man and woman perfect. "Oh brave new world!"

Huxley's character John Savage came from a Southwest reservation where the old ways were still practiced. There were gods, and mothers, and yes, even pain. But this was life. Late in the book he meets and debates one of the ten world controllers, Mustapha Mond. It is a highly illuminating section of the book, as the two world views crash into one another.

Chapter Seventeen
ART, SCIENCE–you seem to have paid a fairly high price for your happiness," said the Savage, when they were alone. "Anything else?"

"Well, religion, of course," replied the Controller. "There used to be something called God–before the Nine Years' War. But I was forgetting; you know all about God, I suppose."

"Well …" The Savage hesitated. He would have liked to say something about solitude, about night, about the mesa lying pale under the moon, about the precipice, the plunge into shadowy darkness, about death. He would have liked to speak; but there were no words. Not even in Shakespeare.

The Controller then shared with the Savage a number of books which he kept locked up because they were dangerous. This discussion ensued.

"Call it the fault of civilization. God isn't compatible with machinery and scientific medicine and universal happiness. You must make your choice. Our civilization has chosen machinery and medicine and happiness. That's why I have to keep these books locked up in the safe. They're smut. People would be shocked it …"

The Savage interrupted him. "But isn't it natural to feel there's a God?"

"You might as well ask if it's natural to do up one's trousers with zippers," said the Controller sarcastically. "You remind me of another of those old fellows called Bradley. He defined philosophy as the finding of bad reason for what one believes by instinct. As if one believed anything by instinct! One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them. Finding bad reasons for what one believes for other bad reasons–that's philosophy. People believe in God because they've been conditioned to.

"But all the same," insisted the Savage, "it is natural to believe in God when you're alone–quite alone, in the night, thinking about death …"

"But people never are alone now," said Mustapha Mond. "We make them hate solitude; and we arrange their lives so that it's almost impossible for them ever to have it."

The Savage nodded gloomily. At Malpais he had suffered because they had shut him out from the communal activities of the pueblo, in civilized London he was suffering because he could never escape from those communal activities, never be quietly alone.

At the heart of all is a question which echoes throughout the history of philosophy, articulated by Socrates and re-evaluated with every new generation: What is a good life? Or the modern corollary thought: how can a socially engineered existence reveal virtue when making a free will choice is an abnormality?

That discussion has been going on for twenty-five centuries... so I think I will just leave off here.

Babblegate Blathergate: Is the Honeymoon Over?

O.K. media people. Lighten up.

I know why Americans are sick of politics. About every three weeks we’re inundated with a new scandal-gate. This week it’s called Blagogate. (Google News: 63 stories today)

A big front page story early this week told how Illinois Guv Rod Blogojevich sought to capitalize on Barack Obama’s vacated senate seat. Yep. He was purportedly striving to strike a back room deal in which he could profit by selling the seat to the highest bidder.

“Come one, come all… Be a Senator and enjoy the benefits of power and privilege, D.C-style.”

Now here’s the part that gets bad. Within days some newsman tries to make a name for himself by giving the scandal a name. “What if we just add a ‘gate’ to the story somewhere?” Next thing you know, everyone is talking about this stupid thing that some guy did and comparing it, by the very nature of its name, to Nixon’s truly despotic Watergate atrocity.

Suddenly, no one cares about Mr. Obama’s appointments, or the continuing crisis in Iraq, Afghanistan, or Pakistan or Mumbai or Ethiopia or Somalia or Outer Slobovia…. Rather, in a strange media feeding frenzy, with tar slathering over everything related to Illinois, all the spotlights turn to the president-elect. How much did he know? Why wasn’t he outraged when he found out about it?

I guess it was CNN’s Rick Sanchez who came up with the tagline Blagogate. But someone would have sooner or later. And with deft innuendo Mr. Obama is on the defensive. Here’s Katie Couric on the theme:

Today, President-elect Barack Obama formally introduced his pick for Secretary of Health and Human Services, Tom Daschle, but you wouldn't know it from the headlines. The press conference was dominated by questions about Illinois Gov. Rod Blogojevich, and very serious charges that he may have tried to sell Mr. Obama's Senate seat. Federal prosecutors have said there are no allegations that Mr. Obama was involved, and the president-elect stated he is confident his staffers had no hand in the hijinx.

So why is this news?

Fox News naturally gives an even more ominous spin in a story titled Obama Bungles Blagogate.

Hmmm… “Bungles” sounds like "screwed up" and fumbles and just plain messed up his first move. It also sounds like editorial jabbing, not news reporting.

And in what way did he bungle this “first major test before taking office”? In fact, why is this his first test? I would think his first test would been election night. He could have gloated. But he did not. He passed the first test… a gracious winner. The next set of tests were already waiting for him by week’s end. The automakers were on the ropes, and bleeding badly. He could have failed that, too. Or in his appointments to the cabinet… wouldn’t those be called “tests” of his judgment?

Instead, Fox focuses on this little item:
“In his first major test before taking office President-elect Barack Obama finds himself sucked into scandal. The governor of Illinois Rod Blagojevich, a man Obama endorsed in 2006, was charged this week with trying to sell the president-elect’s senate seat in a staggering level of pay to play politics.”

Of course this piece of editorializing is written by a Republican who quickly adds the following disclaimer:

“Let me make one thing clear: Obama has not been charged, nor is there any suspicion that he had any involvement in this scandal.” If there is not even any suspicion of involvement, then why is this a story?

So what are they saying he did wrong? “On Tuesday, following the reports that Blagojevich had been arrested, Obama said he was ‘saddened and sobered’ by the news. Saddened? Movies on Lifetime make people sad. This should make him furious.”

How about the possibility that he is saddened because he is watching a public official’s life become a public ruin? The guy may have actly like a bum, but he's a human being.

Another thing Obama did wrong was probably to come from that seething hotbed of unethical slime, Illinois. Isn’t Illinois the notorious state of Mayor Daley and Al Capone and stuffed ballot boxes and corruption? Well yes, but it’s also the Land o’ Lincoln. Besides, I never knew political corruption had geographic boundaries. New Jersey famously has the Mob, and New York Boss Tweed and crooked cops, and D.C. has its history of shame as well. And let's not forget Louisiana or Mississippi while we're at it.

As for Obama and the media, can it really be that the honeymoon is over already? If the media is going to make a mountain out of this particular anthill, it’s their prerogative. I would think, however, there are more important things to be getting a grip on right now.

Lennon Muerte

December 8, 1980. I was standing on the Zocalo in Mexico City, a large open plaza in front of the palatial government buildings there. The day sky blue, and I a stranger in a strange land, stood there taking it all in.

Surrounding the square there were newspaper & magazine stands, much like those one sees in the streets of New York. And as I walked to my left toward the vendor stands, every one of them was filled with newspapers displaying photos of the Beatles. This seemed so strange until the headline registered. Lennon Muerte. Lennon dead.

I stood gaping, the news failing to register. Perhaps the era of innocence had long past, but this brought it forcefully home. John Lennon's music connected with a generation, and one theme he was especially fond of was the appeal for peace. For Lennon, the only way to obliterate bad karma was through love, not violence.

I was in the midst of a three week trip to Mexico City with a Bible school choir from the orphanage. For a moment I forgot myself, remembering this man's influence. Here is a link to a collection of anecdotes by others who have remembered that moment, where they were, how it moved them when the learned of his passing.

As we prepare for the Christmas season, perhaps it is suitable to share this message from the Beatle known as John.

So this is Xmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so this is Xmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Xmas (war is over)
For weak and for strong (if you want it)
For rich and the poor ones (war is over)
The world is so wrong (if you want it)
And so happy Xmas (war is over)
For black and for white (if you want it)
For yellow and red ones (war is over)
Let's stop all the fight (now)

A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Xmas (war is over)
And what have we done (if you want it)
Another year over (war is over)
A new one just begun (if you want it)
And so happy Xmas (war is over)
We hope you have fun (if you want it)
The near and the dear one (war is over)
The old and the young (now)

A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now

Happy Xmas

Ten Minutes with Mike Savage

Susie and I moved to Duluth in 1986. At the time I had been doing freelance writing for about three years (evenings) and was looking to get a full time job as a writer. I also imagined being the next Hemingway and sought to connect with literary folks up here are well.

As it turns out, there was an ad or newspaper story about a writer's group that was meeting at The Depot. It drew a fairly large batch of area writers... maybe fifteen or so. During that first meeting I was sizing up the group to find which were the serious writers and which were simply wannabes. In the course of a lifetime, there are twenty wannabes for every one who actually writes. A Native American writer named Jim Northrup was there. He read a few poems that were incredibly powerful, and since that time his work reached the national stage.

Another writer in that room was Mike Savage. I believe he was on the verge of publishing his first novel, Something in the Water. I hit it off with Mike immediately, impressed by his work ethic. He was serious about the craft and over the past two decades we have had many lunches together where we discuss the challenges of writing and publishing.

Early on Mike founded Savage Press, to help local writers find a way to get into print and their stories told to a wider audience.

ennyman: How did you get your start as writer?
MS: Poetry interested me in high school. I had an interesting teacher named Anita Helski who somehow managed to connect with me at some subterranean level because, on the surface, I acted out a lot. But, poems interested me and I started writing them in high school. I compiled the poems into a mimeographed sheaf and handed a few around and that day on the bus ride home Tommy Daubner made a big deal of my writing and publishing. It was negative reinforcement, but it was reinforcement none-the-less. So, there it is, from high school on I was a writer and a publisher.

ennyman: You one time mentioned a writing discipline which you maintained for years. Can you describe that? How important is discipline for writers?
MS: I generally write every day in the morning. Usually I awake early and do some thinking, some meditating, some praying, and then some writing. Either journaling, book writing, article writing, letters, emails, poems, political commentary, humor, whatever is alive in me at that time, I express it on screen or paper.

Discipline is important to clear, concise writing. Discipline isn’t necessarily important as a stand-alone “commodity” so to speak. Anyone can do what I do in the mornings... journal, sloppy slathering of sentimental prose and/or poetry. But, if the goal is to present copy that is either salable or succinct or enviable, discipline is required. Everyone needs an editor, either their unmerciful selves, or some outside source that recognizes bad grammar, improper spelling, awkward usage, unclear expression, poor word choice, repetition… all the hallmarks of hasty, haphazard writing.

BTW, most submissions that I read are hasty and haphazard.

ennyman: How did Savage Press evolve and what is its roll in the world of writing?
MS: Savage Press filled many needs when it started in 1989. Our literary magazine, “The Northern Reader” ran 13 or so issues and made a whole bunch of people published authors. The books filled a niche market for the Twin Ports region. Back then, I was writing much more, writing magazine articles, newspaper articles, radio stuff…and books. I wrote in the morning and published in the afternoon/evening.

ennyman: What do you enjoy most about the publishing business?
MS: I enjoy reading new work. This last weekend I read a proposal and the first four chapters of a 40-year-old man who went to Moscow, met, and eventually married a Russian woman. Then he divorced her and married a prostitute. And then he wrote a book about it. It was fairly interesting reading, but the author was pretty unsympathetic to me and I couldn’t see how we’d make any money publishing his story, even though he is adamant that he and his story are going to end up on Oprah some day.

I also enjoy editing and creating handsome books. I enjoy selling books to some degree too, but prefer direct sales to readers over wholesale distribution and marketing.

ennyman: What separates you and your company from the competition?
MS: Savage Press is not a profit-oriented business. Over the years we’ve published a lot of books that weren’t terribly profitable. But they did deserve to be published and would never have become a book if profit were the driving motive behind their publication.

ennyman: What advice would you give to someone just starting out as a writer? And specific books you’d point them to?
MS: Number one: Write every day. Two: Distinguish between writing for publication and writing for personal gratification. That book I mentioned above? The one about the guy who couldn’t marry well? His book is more of a long whiny testimony to his victimization. It is almost a rage book. The author is unqualified to judge his story because he is so caught up in the melodrama of his own life. He thinks he’s going to get published and get vindicated and get rich. In my opinion, as the story stands today, based on what I read, he will probably get only more bitter and angry.

ennyman: I like your honesty there and it is probably something I have always liked about our friendship. You are always a straight shooter. What one thing would you do with your business if you knew you could not fail?
MS: I’d publish a book that reduced readers’ fears by 90 percent.

ennyman: That probably wasn't the first thing that came to mind, but I like it. In what ways has the Internet changed the publishing world in general and your world in particular?
MS: The Internet and World Wide Web has made publishing about 75 times easier. Proofing documents using Adobe and transmitting files electronically makes prepress much more streamlined. I communicate almost exclusively via email these days. Web sales and marketing isn’t as peachy as it was cracked up to be back when the “paperless office” concept was being bandied about freely, but the Savpress website is a virtual catalog that informs people and saves paper. I gave up mass producing a catalog. If anyone wants to see a particular title I tell them to look at it on-line or I send them the specific URL.

ennyman: Describe the strangest or funniest incident you have experienced as a publisher?
MS: There are many, many such incidents. Too many to relate here. One that jumps immediately to mind is when I was called up to the dais at a book event to receive a minor award and as I approached the stage the presenter fell over in a dead faint. So much for getting my need for attention met. The entire focus went from my minor accomplishment to the poor woman’s body laying prostrate on the stage. I returned to my seat and finished my scalloped potatoes.

ennyman: Are we going to see any more Dave Davecki books? Where did Dave come from? I certainly saw some of you in this character. Were the books fun to write? What did you like most and least?
MS: One never knows, but I’m doubtful there will be another Dave Davecki installment. I have two Davecki books finished. One is called “DIErland” where Davecki uncovers a murderous band of Celtic crazies who get their jollies killing people, robbing graves, and selling priceless pre-Christian Irish artifacts to wealthy peabrains. The other is a rehash and amalgamation of “Death by Corvette.” It could be called “Death by Cadillac” or “Death by Being Terribly Stupid and Driving Your Caddy Convertible into St. Louis Bay.” I’ve got a raft of Dave Davecki plots stored away somewhere. Every once in a while I think of digging out the plot for “Death by Poetic License” and tinkering with it for my own amusement, but I always get caught up short by the utter financial foolishness of publishing another Davecki novel.

ennyman: Mike, thanks for sharing and for your contribution to the local literary scene. You've helped a lot of people find an audience. The very best to you going forward.

Ten Minutes with Ellen Sandbeck

My wife Susie met Ellen Sandbeck first through pottery classes at the Depot here in Duluth. At some point along the way our families became intertwined and our friendship continues to this day. Ellen and Walt have been part of our Philosophy Club four years and we get together for on special occasions at times. Their kids and ours were of similar ages, and both families seemed to appreciate the creative energy and values found in the other. And I always have high regard for productive writer friends whose work has found its way into print.

When we first met, both our families lived in the neighborhood of Duluth’s Central Hillside. Eventually, both our families moved to the country. Susie grew up on a farm and needed the wide open spaces, and the Sandbecks are consummate gardeners. Back to nature is no fad with Walt and Ellen.

The following interview was stimulated by a desire to share Ellen’s wit and perhaps help increase awareness for her books.

enny: You started out as more of an artist. How did you become interested in writing?
Ellen: I was recruited by a non-profit environmental group that wanted me to write a booklet about non-toxic housekeeping and gardening--one of our landscaping clients belonged to the group, and volunteered me for the job before telling me about it! I had 15 years’ worth of notes that I’d been compiling about organic landscaping, and the “booklet” turned into a book which I named “Slug Bread & Beheaded Thistles; Amusing and Useful Techniques for Nontoxic Housekeeping and Gardening.”

enny: You illustrated books for the Dover Series. What kinds of things did you learn from that experience?
Ellen: Those books contained hundreds of images, so I was essentially paid to practice and improve my technique. I learned that no matter how many people love an image, it doesn’t matter if the owner of the company doesn’t get it. Also, it is a bad idea to have one’s work space in the middle of the living room, where one’s finished product is vulnerable to the predations of crayon-happy toddlers and coffee-toting guests.

enny: How would you describe your writing style, not the end product, but the process?
Ellen: My writing process... come up with an idea for a project that requires a lot of research; attempt to write a proposal that a publishing company will be interested in; endure ridicule and derision caused by my glaring incompetence at writing proposals; hire a friend to write the proposal; submit proposal to my agent; wait for contract, which is almost inevitably too short for the proposed project; nearly work myself to death meeting the deadline (They don’t call them deadlines for nothing. My last one was actually more of a “drop-deadline.”); wait for the editor’s suggested revisions; make revisions, send manuscript back; wait anxiously to hear those magic words: “Your manuscript has been accepted;” wait for check. OR, alternately, wait to hear that the manuscript has been rejected, then try to figure out how to raise the money to self-publish.

enny: You began by self-publishing a book on growing worms. What did you learn from this experience?
Ellen: Actually, I began by writing Slug Bread & Beheaded Thistles, see question #1. We are still producing copies of “Laverme’s Handbook of Indoor Vermicomposting.”

enny: How did you get your first contract with a New York Publisher?
Ellen: Let’s see... I self-published Slug Bread & Beheaded Thistles, sold the entire first printing of 3,000 copies, then had to do another printing in order to pay off the loan for the first printing. Cartons of books take up a lot of room, by the way. We stored them in our hallway. (It’s a long story. See question #1. It was supposed to be paid for by the environmental group. I got screwed.) I sold a total of about 10,000 books, paid off my loan, made a profit, and after about three years thought that the book was winding down and dying a natural death, when suddenly, out of the blue, I got a phone call from a literary agent in New York City. I thought at first that the call was a hoax, because I hadn’t sent anything to an agent. I kept waiting for my husband’s friend Bob to quit talking in a falsetto and laugh at me. (He’d done this to me many times.) But it turned out that the woman on the other end of the line was really a literary agent in New York City. She said that she’d bought a copy of Slug Bread at a garden center on Long Island, and was wondering whether I’d be interested in having her represent me because she thought she could sell the book to a big publisher. Then she said: “You don’t have to make a decision now. We can hang up and you can think about it and call me back.” I thought that was uproariously funny: “Yeah right! What decision? No, I don’t want to make money? No, I don’t want to get published?” I had to expand the book a bit, because the original version was only 80 pages long, and when I was done, my agent held an auction for the book because eight publishers were interested. Broadway/Doubleday had the winning bid. I am very lucky to be represented by the best literary agent in the entire universe.

enny: You are currently on your fourth book? What is the “working title” and what’s it about?
Ellen: I submitted the manuscript for my fourth book to Scribner on August 31, 2008. I made my deadline by one day. I’m still doing the back and forth revisions with my editor. The working title is “Green Barbarians; How to Live Bravely On Your Home Planet.” I’m not sure whether the publisher will go for that title, but I’m hoping!

enny: I loved the look and feel of your first two books, Slug Bread and Beheaded Thistles and Eat More Dirt. Your creativity spills out in so many ways. Do you like writing more or making art?
Ellen: Making art is much more fun, but writing pays better.

enny: What ways of promoting your books have you found most effective?
Ellen: Readers’ word of mouth. Giving talks.

enny: What advice would you give to someone just starting out as a writer?

Ellen: Unless you are already famous, it is very, very difficult to pique the interest of a publisher or an agent. Publishers very rarely read anything that is unagented, and agents are not interested in authors who are not already published. I think that one of the only ways around this Catch-22 is to self-publish. I usually give aspiring writers the same advice: Produce a manuscript that you really love and really believe in, pay a really good editor to edit it, then self-publish. (If you don’t believe in your book strongly enough to put your own money on the line to publish it, why should anyone else?) After your cartons of books arrive, send out review copies to local newspapers and bookstores, contact your local Barnes & Noble or other large bookseller, ask for the contact information for the regional buyer, then send a copy to the buyer. Pray for good reviews.

enny: What are you working on now? And what would you work on next if you knew you could not fail?
Ellen: I am still working on the revisions of, and illustrations for, Green Barbarians. If I knew I could not fail? I would work on women’s and children’s rights issues in repressive, patriarchal countries. I think misogyny is the root of all evil.

ennyman: Thanks, Ellen!

Human Cloning: Why the Ethicists Are Concerned

What a world we live in today. The kinds of ethical questions being raised were unthinkably remote in years gone by. When Aldous Huxley wrote Brave New World in 1932, his setting was 600 years A.F. (After Ford.) One wonders what he’d be thinking were he alive today to see the fruit of the Human Genome Project or Dolly the cloned ewe.

Huxley’s book was not really about a future utopia. He was lifting the veil to see what an inhuman place the world can become when we permit an anything goes future with regard to ethics and morality.

While reading Michael Crichton’s last novel Next in November I wanted to comment more on a major current issue in ethics: Should cloning humans be allowed?

The issue raises so many unresolved questions.
Is it human? Would it be ethical to create clones to harvest organs for rich people who can afford it? Is it ethical to try to clone humans when scientists know that 98-99% die to make one? What about the future when we can’t tell who is human and who is clone? Would cloning open the doors to the creation of an army of psychopathic terror agents who live to kill without a second thought?

The trigger event for me was lunch with a friend last week who, when I raised the issue, said, “I think there should be no restrictions on science. We have to find out what we can do.”

This kind of amoral approach to knowledge is the basis for Mary Shelley’s exploration of the theme in Frankenstein. Should we be permitted to make monsters before we’ve evaluated the consequences?

There are plenty of places where decisions need to be made in the realm of genetic science. In fact, unless one is a serious student of the issues, my guess is that most of us are incapable of understanding any of the subtler, more complex issues bio-science is grappling with today.

One major problem in this arena is that not everyone cares about ethics. The U.S. can step in and outlaw certain kinds of research, and global international pharmaceutical firms can move their research to Singapore or Beijing. In point of fact, the leading institutes in this arena already have connections with research facilities overseas. And when ethical lines are drawn, only the ethical follow the rules. This is why prohibition did not work in the 20's, or the banning of handguns in England today. The bad guys will still get their guns.

Of Crichton’s book, LibraryThing.com writes that Next “is the latest in a series of Crichton works which are structured on the same premise: Take a current scientific/medical topic, explore it, explain it and then illustrate the dangers presented if the science is not properly regulated and/or controlled. This has been a constantly recurring theme with Crichton since his first novel, Andromeda Strain and its subject of killer viruses.”

Inklingmagazine.com summarizes Crichton’s conclusions as follows:

1. Stop patenting genes.

2. Establish clear guidelines for the use of human tissues.

3. Pass laws to ensure that data about gene testing is made public.

4. Avoid bans on research

5. Rescind the Bayh-Dole Act (which allows universities to patent and make money from their research).

Essentially, Crichton has pulled a fire alarm to waken us to the issues which have been raised by Human Genome research. Of course at the heart of it all, with regard to human cloning, is the issue, “What does it mean to be human?” If the abortion debate has failed to produce a conclusive answer to “When does life begin?” you can be sure debates on human cloning won't produce answers where there is universal agreement. Ultimately, decisions will be made by those who have the power to make the decisions.

From all I’ve read thus far, my gut tells me human cloning is wrong. I recommend you begin to read and think about these things because they're certain to be part of tomorrow’s discussions in the news and in our lives, possibly sooner than you think.

Introduction to The Life of Samson

"Man is not a god, Dostoevski asserts, and the individual man's inner voice will always tell him this truth." ~ Rene Girard


Today, on Short Story Monday, we present an introduction to a longer piece. This intro was intended to stand on its own while serving as an appetite whetting experience to create hunger for more.

"Everything that deceives may be said to enchant." ~ Plato

Introduction to The Life of Samson

From my earliest youth I have wondered (not in these exact words, of course, but with an earnestness as perpetual as consciousness itself) how can God, who is perfect, work through man, who is imperfect, to achieve His immutable purposes?

Whether this question was born into my heart from above, or cultivated in me by the priests and Levites who instructed our family in the ways of Yahweh, I do not know. These were the days when Israel was without a king; these were the days of Samson. Indeed, what better example of the Great Riddle than the life which Samson lived in our midst for more than twenty years?

Through the stories I am about to relate, God, in His great and infinite mercy, has in a small measure given me an understanding of this impenetrable mystery.

*

Here is what I believe: we receive that for which we hunger. He whose longing is for riches, to him riches will flow. That man whose mind dwells on things carnal will find a world of sensuality beyond his wildest imaginations. These satisfactions are not without a price, however. For this one thing I have seen: that a man not only receives that for which he longs, in the end he always gets more than he bargained for.

My longing was for understanding. I hungered. I thirsted. And I believed my desire -- to grasp with my full consciousness the deep things of God that were hidden in the womb of this dark mystery -- would be satisfied.

*

Here is something else I believe: each of us is unique, with unique experiences that enable us to discover things that no one else has ever thought about, has ever heard, having never had our own experiences.

Our experiences, as well as their unique lessons, are not only ours to learn, they are ours to share. If, in fact, once having learned we fail to share, we are violating, even thwarting the purposes of God in His self-revelation. (Are there not sins of omission as serious and equally terrible as any we commit?)

Why do we hold back then? Because we believe we have nothing worthwhile to say? Because we believe everyone has these insights, this understanding?Believe me, everyone does NOT have your insight. And the world is poorer by the very degree to which you keep silent.Organize your thoughts; sift what you know, and present, then, your offering. Take courage. Honor God and speak! Spill out your heart! We are a world in darkness; we are in need of your light. In service to those who do not, cannot, know the messages of life you bring: speak the words you alone can speak. Speak, that we may understand.

What follows here are the words I alone can speak, for the story of Samson and his struggles -- with God, with himself, with obsession -- is my story. That is to say: For this I was born, to listen and to hear, to record what I have heard, and to make an offering of this record to the world.

*

The beginning of my own personal illumination came during my imprisonment at Gaza. Up until that time, I had been a self-centered youth, wholly engaged in self-destructive behaviors which brought me a great deal of attention but little self-satisfaction. Once garrisoned, I was assigned to the task of taking care of a blind man, which included his feeding, clothing, bathing and, from time to time, the dressing of his wounds. The privilege was all mine, for this helpless man was Samson. Because of his fame, there is not a Hebrew among us who did not know of his exploits, his mighty deeds, how heled Israel for more than two decades before being betrayed and subdued.

There is a sense in which none of us can know the mind or plan of God with anything approaching certainty. Yet there are times and circumstances, upon which God has His hand, and we know by some inner knowing that, "Yes, this is God's arrangement." Such was my feeling in that prison, that having fallen so far, into such a darkened estate, I was not left abandoned, that there was yet hope for my life, that I might again know freedom, and joy.

*

The swarthy, weathered Samson I had first encountered was less than the man I expected. I am not refering here to his punctured, sightless eyes. He was only of modest physical stature, surpassing six feet in height by half a hand's width at most. His forearms and biceps were certainly powerful, but the overall impression was somewhat less than what legends had led me to imagine. It was difficult to connect the stories to the man.

Equally dissimilar was the interior Samson. I expected someone spoiled and egocentric (in all likelihood someone more like myself!) or, more in keeping with a common stereotype we Hebrews have, a rather large dimwitted sort of fellow. I hardly expected the intelligence and sensitivity this man possessed. His mind was ever alert and active. Perhaps even too active. "I think too much," he was fond of saying, sometimes with a laugh, and sometimes with remorse.

*

For weeks I had been longing to ask the question, "How could a man so wise, so seemingly intelligent and alert, have been so foolish, so stupid? You knew this Delilah was only out to destroy you. How could you have shared with her the secret of your strength? Wasn't it obvious, Samson, what she was trying to do?

"I felt myself impertinent, but at this point it was the burning question. And that morning -- it was a bad dream I had which set the whole thing off -- I feared we weren't going to be together that much longer. We'd been sharing deeply many things up to this time, of God, of our hearts, of our understanding of life and its meanings, but I could not fathom how this great hero of our people had fallen so badly, so decisively. What kind oflove is this that blinds one so utterly and completely to dangers and snares so clearly designed to undo him?

When I finally asked my question, Samson did not reply. For the whole of that afternoon he seemed buried in his thoughts, sad and absorbed. Even at supper he was silent, drawing around himself a barrier which I feared to penetrate. That night, too, hardly a word passed between us and I was disgusted with myself for my intrusiveness. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I burst out, "I'm sorry I said anything. I'm sorry, it was foolish of me to stick my nose in your business. Please, forgive me." He seized my arm and shook his head emphatically, chestnut hair flying off from his shoulders (for it had been growing long again).

"No, my young brother, it is a good question. It is the right question. It comes from the deep places of your heart. You long for understanding. Is this not a longing born of the Spirit of Yahweh? And is it not as God's agent that you ask this question? You have spoken God's word, my friend, and I am challenged. I cannot answer lightly and without deliberation. Yes, I have been giving it thought. Tomorrow I will tell you my story. Perhaps we will both learn something. It is possible that no one can truly understand a fool in his folly. Still, I will speak of my life, as honestly and clearly as I am able, and in some small measure you will be satisfied with myanswer."

*

More than ten years have passed since the shared experiences of that Gaza prison. That is why Samson's story has been recorded here in such a piecemeal way, for which I am solely to blame. As much as possible, I have attempted to capture the actual flow of his thought and patterns of speech. Where necessary, I have elaborated portions of stories where he had himself previously painted a scene and did not embellish it when recounting this last portrait of his life. We were together for nearly six months, though many of those early months were spent in non-communicative brooding on both our parts. Over a period of time, as we shared more, we began discovering many parallels in our life journeys, which led us to a profound sense of brotherhood.

In the end, Samson believed I had been sent by God to hear his final confessions. After recounting the whole of his life in one final summation, we spent the rest of the night in prayer. The dawn broke with such splendor we could hardly help but sing with the birds who welcomed it. This was our last night together. The coming eve, Samson sacrificed his life with a feat that slaughtered three thousand Philistines in a single stroke, more than he had killed in all the years he had lived. Even in death, he amazed us.

Here is the story Samson told....