Quackenblog

France Day 6: May 22nd

2011-07-18T16:40:00.004-04:00

Today we spent nearly all of the day in the center. We began by eating croissants for breakfast. It was a Sunday so we cleaned up and welcomed the members of the church into church. The service consisted of prayer and singing. We sang in French and Arabic, with some occasional English. During the service the church members would share what the Lord was doing in their lives, what the Lord was teaching them, and asking the others to pray for them. The group would then take time to pray for the individual members of the group. It was a sharp contrast to anything I have seen in America. This was one of the most authentic pictures of the Body of Christ I have ever seen. The church showed a very serious desire to be prayer warriors for one another. The man who was scheduled to preach the message had to leave at noon (we started at 11) so he was unable to preach. After church we had lunch at a Chinese restaurant (on a usual Sunday the whole church stayed and ate together at the center, but not on this week). After lunch we returned to the center and began reading a story of a 3rd century North-African martyr. In the middle of the story a Tunisian couple from the church came back to the center to talk to us. They shared their testimonies and answered our questions. After this we finished the story and had a long discussion with the pastor that ended in singing worship songs. We then had dinner. After we cleaned up dinner we watched a movie about an Arabic man who found Christ. It was a very eye opening and worship-filled day that left me with a lot to think about. (There was nothing that was picture worthy or that I was allowed to take pictures of today.)

France Day 5: May 21st

2011-07-11T18:13:00.006-04:00

This morning we had bread and coffee for breakfast, shocking I know. After that we went to the beach…at the Mediterranean Sea! It was a beautiful beach day and I also got a few minutes of reading in. The beach did not have sand; instead it had rock/gravel. I was told that the water was going to be really cold; however, it felt the same to me as a typical day at Virginia Beach. It was a great morning.

After the beach we drove for a few hours to the city of Avignon. We took a tour of the Pope’s Palace there. For about 100 years (1309-1403) the papacy was actually located in Avignon. 9 Popes actually lived in Avignon, although the final two were actually during a schism and therefore there was actually a Pope in Rome during their ‘reign’ as Pope. We toured the palace and learned a lot about Catholic influence in France. It was interesting to see that many of the statues of statesmen, monarchs, and clergy had their heads chopped off. This was done during the French Revolution. The French Revolution was a time when the French common people stood up to their oppressors, namely, the monarchy and the state church. This was just another reminder of the darkness that has been a part of France for so long. After the palace we drove back to Lyon and checked back into the hotel.

France Day 4: May 20th

2011-06-16T22:23:00.005-04:00

I woke up on the 20th and ate bread for breakfast, which became somewhat of a theme. We spent the morning prayer-walking through the streets of Marseilles. It was a very discouraging experience. The streets looked more like a third-world country than what we would traditionally think of in France. The people had stands at which they sold cheap goods and many people looked poverty-stricken. (Before we left we were warned about the pickpockets and thieves in Marseilles, therefore I did not take my camera along today).

After lunch we saw two very different building projects. The first project was by the local Islamic community. They are building a giant mosque in the city of Marseilles. This mosque will cost them 22 million euros (roughly $30 million) and will be the largest mosque on the continent of Europe. They showed us a model of the building and then gave us a tour of the site. The ceremonial ‘first stone’ had been laid just shortly before we arrived. After touring the site we stepped outside and prayed for the building and the people who will enter it. We prayed that our Sovereign God will use this building in some way for His glory. We then visited a very different site. The next building was three-stories high and has (barely) survived multiple fires. The inside of this building had rubbish and debris everywhere. It was the site where the Marseilles pastors wanted to build a Protestant church. The local mayor has agreed to give them the building for a lease of 90 years rent free, but it will take them 280,000 Euros (roughly $400,000) to fix up the building. We spent time praying over the site and praying for God’s provision.

The day finished with us going to the Marseilles ‘center’ to eat pizza and hear testimonies. We heard many stories of North Africans who came to faith in Christ. It was very encouraging to hear these stories. Seeing the building sites that day had left me heart-broken and discouraged (which is not necessarily a bad thing, I think it is good to feel that way every now and then). However, hearing these powerful testimonies was just a reminder that no matter what seemingly huge, human obstacle is in the way, God is going to draw people to himself and glorify His name. We introduced ourselves to the local community of believers and had a nice time of fellowship before leaving for the night.

France Day 3: May 19th

2011-06-12T18:28:00.008-04:00

I woke up feeling great on the 19th, and it ended up being one of my favorite days. We had focused on the Roman history of France the day before and today we focused on the persecution of the Huguenots (the Huguenots were French Protestants). The first thing we did was go to the Musee du Desert (museum of the desert, alluding to the Israelites in the desert in Exodus). The first room we walked into had a giant picture of Martin Luther at the Diet of Worms. (We had not officially gone into the museum yet so I was unaware of the no picture rule they had (there were no signs up either), so I have a picture of the Luther painting but nothing else at this site.)Then I looked around and saw pictures and artifacts of Luther, Calvin, Zwingli and the other reformers. Needless to say I was pretty pumped! The museum was the house of a 17th century Huguenot. We went through the different rooms and saw the many instruments that they used in their secret worship services. One room, the ‘Bible room’, was particularly amazing. It was full of old French Bibles and showed the commitment to Scripture that these believers had. This museum really made me realize how easy we have it and unfortunately, how lightly we can tend to take Scripture. These believers could have easily budged on a few pieces of doctrine and been free from persecution, but instead they stayed faithful and suffered for it. After discussing the museum and it’s implications for our lives we went to lunch.

While at the museum we were told about the different forms of persecution. Children were just sent to Catholic school, men were sent to row ships until they recanted, and women were sent to the Tower of Constance (Tour de Constance). The next place we went to was a medieval city that was walled in. Inside the walls was the Tour de Constance. As we walked through the tower we were told multiple stories of martyred women and the lengths some women went to to help their fellow prisoners. It was gross to see the inside of this concrete tower and hear that 40+ women were stuffed into a little room. The conditions were terrible and at times they would do things like shave the women’s heads for humiliation. After walking through the tower we went through the city and I stumbled across another room dedicated to the reformers (bottom picture). After walking around the city a little more we drove to Marseilles and ate a typical French meal and went to the hotel. A day filled with history, theology, and persecution. It left me with much to think about and be thankful for.

France Day 2: May 18th

2011-06-09T21:20:00.007-04:00

As many of you know the first week of our trip was originally supposed to be in North Africa. The point of this first week was for ‘cultural immersion’. Many of the people we came into contact with in France came from North Africa or North African descent, so the trip leaders thought it would be wise to take us to North Africa and be exposed to them there. Due to the change in plans we ended up spending the majority of the first week in the south of France doing ‘cultural immersion’. However, instead of being exposed to strictly North African culture, we were exposed to different facets of French culture and history each day. On the 18th, the focus was on the Roman influence in France.

We woke up around 5:20, which was not a problem for me since I had fallen asleep the night before around 8:30. We ate croissants in the center for breakfast and made sandwiches for ourselves for lunch. We the loaded up two vans and headed down three hours south to the Pont du Gard. The Pont du Gard is the site of a Roman aqueduct. We walked through a museum that gave us a very thorough history of how Rome came to rule in southern France and the impact that has on the modern day French. We also learned how they made aqueducts and why there is an aqueduct there. We then left the museum and walked out to where the aqueduct was and saw the beautiful site. It was huge! After taking some pictures we ate lunch.

After lunch we drove for about 20 minutes to the city of Nimes. In Nimes we visited another Roman amphi- theater, but this one was much larger than the one in Lyon. At the amphitheater we were given little MP3 devices that would guide us through the amphitheater and tell us about the different things that went on there. Not only did this amphitheater hold real gladiator fights, but it also was a place of Christian persecution and martyrdom. This tour reminded me once again of why this area of the world is so lost. I was unaware that intense Christian persecution went all the way back to the 3-4th century in France. I knew of the French Revolution and how the French had harbored hatred for the Catholic Church for hundreds of years prior. I knew there was intense persecution of Protestants in the 16-17th century (we learned more about this the next day). But I was unaware of the roots of this persecution back in the Roman era. As I began to process this it made sense that France is now basically split up into two groups. The first is the typical Frenchman who accepts atheism and postmodernism as truth. Though this group is emotionally Catholic, they are not practicing and are generally hostile to evangelistic efforts. The second group in France is North African immigrants. The number of North African immigrants is soaring in France and they bring their cultural and religious traditions with them. As we left the amphitheater, my heart was broke for the people of France. We then went to our hotel in the south and had a little bit of downtime to get settled in. We looked for a French place to eat but nothing was feasible on this night due to our late arrival so we ate a Chinese buffet. After dinner we stayed and talked for a long time (which ended being what happened at every dinner, it’s French culture). We had a very interesting conversation about what actually makes up a church. It was fairly late when we got back to the room so I got right to bed.

France Day 1: May 17th

2011-06-08T20:03:00.019-04:00

On the morning of May 17th I arrived at the Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris at about 5:45 in the morning. Our flight had left Washington DC at about 4:40pm on the 16th. Therefore, the time difference took away our whole night. We got all of our things ready and then waited in the airport until about 8:20 when we got on a train to Lyon. We were on the train for about two hours and then we arrived in Lyon just to get on a tram that led us to the ‘Center’ where we would be doing most of our activities. We quickly went and checked into our hotel (which was about a half a block away from the center) and then ate lunch at the center. After lunch we went on a prayer walk through the city of Lyon.

The first place we saw in the city was a Roman amphi- theater. We talked there about the different cults and religions that are present in the city. We also saw a group of children there who were on some sort of field trip and were informed by our leaders that they would certainly not have any way of ever hearing the gospel in the present state of things. After the praying at the amphitheater we walked around and saw some Roman Catholic churches. We spent some time discussing the impact that Roman Catholicism has had and does have on the people of France. Unfortunately the impact, for the most part, has not been a good one. We then walked around the city a little more until we arrived back at the center. We then ate dinner and went to bed. By the end of that day I was completely wiped out and ready to get some much needed sleep. Overall a majority of the day was spent traveling therefore this post is slightly shorter.

Stupid Song Lyrics -- Christmas Edition

2010-12-08T08:45:00.006-05:00

Here is one that I updated from the archives. Hope you enjoy as we enter this festive season . . .

Once again, we have arrived at the second Wednesday of the month, which can only mean it is time for another episode of Stupid Song Lyrics. In honor of the Christmas season, I thought it appropriate to delve into some of the more questionable lyrics from some of our holiday favorites. So, without any further ado . . .

1. “I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day. I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day in the morning.” Subsequent verses: “And what was in those ships, all three?”, “The virgin Mary and Christ were there”, and “O, they sailed to Bethlehem, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day . . .”

I guess I’m missing something, because I don’t remember the biblical passage that describes Mary and the baby Jesus on a ship—a ship in a flotilla of three vessels—sailing into the land-locked town of Bethlehem on Christmas morning. Is this figurative or metaphorical language? Is the writer of this song using one of those “paraphrase” Bibles? Or are these just . . . stupid song lyrics?

2. From “Here Comes Santa Claus”: Santa knows that we’re God’s children, that makes everything right.

Talk about your blanket statements. That makes everything right? Everything? You know, there are a lot of terrible things going on out there in the world today—murder, kidnapping, terrorism, starvation, violence and tragedy of all kinds. But you’re telling me that as long as we all realize that Santa (a fictitious character) knows that we are all God’s children (or as Bing Crosby sings, “we’re God’s chillin’”), well, then, that makes everything right. You’re okay. I’m okay. The world is okay. It’s all good.

3. In Little Saint Nick, the Beach Boys continually harmonize, “Christmas comes this time each year.”

Except for that one year when it came in March.

4. “Everyone’s dancing merrily, in a new old fashioned way.” Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Don’t let this one confuse you. When you are rocking around the Christmas tree (which all of us do, right?), dance in a new old fashioned way, not in the old old fashioned way. You see, at one point, there was only one fashion. Then, a new fashion came along so we had to distinguish between the old fashioned way and the new fashioned way. But as is always the case, eventually, an even newer fashion came along--this was dubbed the new new fashioned way. The problem is, when people would refer back to what had gone before, it was confusing. People would ask, "Are you talking about the old old fashioned way or the new old fashioned way?" This song exhorts us to dance in the new old fashioned way. Thank you for letting me clear this up.

5. The Little Drummer Boy states, “The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum.”

Really? A couple of animals were keeping time? Now how exactly did they do that? Were they tapping their feet on the ground? Clapping their hoofs together? Scratchin’ on a first century mix-master machine? Seems kind of unrealistic. Besides, in any band, the drummer is the one who keeps time, so why would the little drummer boy need someone (or something) else to keep time for him in the first place?

6. And finally, I want you all to enjoy your Christmas to the utmost. Don’t hold back from having the most splendid holiday ever. Celebrate with gusto! In other words, I want you to Jingle ALL the way! Don’t jingle half the way. Don’t jingle a little bit and then give up. Don’t talk a good game and then stop jingling on December 15th. Don’t make excuses. Jingle ALL the way! You can do it!

Taking the Gospel to North Africa and France

2010-12-01T08:28:00.009-05:00

As you read the following post you will quickly realize that this is not David A. Quackenbos. It is however, his oldest son, David (or Chad) C. Quackenbos. My father has given me the opportunity to post on his blog today. I hope I can live up to the usual entries.

During my first week of summer in 2009 I went on a weeklong trip to Ecuador. I went on this trip because I was interested in seeing a new culture, eating exquisite foods, and helping out some kids. God had different plans. As the trip went on I saw firsthand the power of God, and by the third night I was completely shaken. The Lord dealt with me over the rest of the trip and since then I have felt the call to become a foreign missionary.

Throughout my senior year of high school, many things changed. I tried to take a more active role as a leader within my youth group. I also kept praying and seeking confirmation from those around me about this calling I felt. Those around me were very supportive and helped me realize that missions is where I need to be. Right now I am a freshman at Liberty University. When I arrived on campus in the fall I was immediately surrounded by a great group of guys. I have been given the amazing privilege of getting to learn from and be discipled by the leadership on the hall while also being able to pour into others through the ministry of being a Prayer Leader. My experience at LU has been one of exciting spiritual growth and maturity (though I still have a long way to go).

Since the summer of 2009 I have looked for more opportunities to go overseas. As I prayed about where to go a few things came to mind. First, I have recently read a few books which have laid the Muslim population of the world on my heart. Second, the only foreign language I know any of is French. I thought, ‘if there were a country (or countries) that was predominantly Muslim and also spoke French that would be perfect’. As I did research the area of North Africa came to mind.

Within the first few weeks here at Liberty there was a meeting held by Light Ministries (the global missions center on campus) in which they told us about all of the trips they are taking this year. Going into the meeting I knew what I was looking for, a trip to either France or North Africa. Sure enough, when I walked into the meeting there was a banner for a trip to North Africa and France. It was an answered prayer.

This trip will be from May 15th to June 2nd of 2011. The first week will be spent in a North African country being exposed to the Muslim culture. This first week will be essential for the rest of the trip. After the first week is over we will travel to southern France to help minister to Muslim, North African immigrants. We will be working with missionaries by distributing literature, helping with a kid’s camp, and prayer walking. I could not be more excited for the opportunity to share the gospel with these people.

I would like to invite you to be a part of the team through prayer and financial support. We have been asked to find at least ten people to commit to pray for the group. Through your prayers I hope to be able to better prepare for the trip both mentally and physically. To make this trip a reality I will need to raise $2700. I hope to be able to pay for much of the trip out of my own pocket. Please pray that God will provide the funds that I am unable to make through the support of friends and family. Thank you very much.

To donate: Go to www.luglobal.com. Click on "Light Ministries College Mission Trips" on the right hand side of the page, then on the next page click on "Donate." Again, the name is David C. Quackenbos. Thank you!

Seven score and seven years ago (November 19, 1863)

2010-11-19T10:10:00.007-05:00

Does the name Edward Everett ring a bell? In the mid-1800s, he was a Massachusetts Congressman and Senator, also governor of that state, served briefly as Secretary of State under President Millard Fillmore, and was a gifted and noted orator of his day. He was well-known—so well-known that in November of 1863, he was invited to be the keynote speaker at the dedication ceremony for the Gettysburg National Cemetery. Just four months before, a brutal three-day battle had taken place on the otherwise peaceful fields of this sleepy southern Pennsylvania town, a battle that would go a long way in determining the future of the war, and the future of our country.

Well, most of you know the story. As sort of an afterthought, President Abraham Lincoln was invited to also share a few words at this event. Everett spoke eloquently for about two hours. After this, Lincoln stood up and spoke for about two minutes. And in that brief period of time, he gave perhaps the most stirring speech in our nation’s history, the Gettysburg Address. Everett himself is said to have lamented that he had not expressed in two hours what Lincoln had conveyed in two minutes.

Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863—one hundred and forty-seven years ago today. Most of us readily recognize the first and last lines of the address. It begins with the iconic line “Four score and seven years ago” (although, in my history class lecture yesterday, several of my students were not aware of what a ‘score’ is in this context), and ends with the equally memorable “that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” However, I am afraid that most people are not familiar with the large “middle section” of the address, and are equally unfamiliar with its overall purpose and meaning.

In short, the Gettysburg Address is a masterpiece. It is one of those works of art that gives me goose bumps regardless of how many times I have read it. I could probably write for hours commenting on its contents, and Lincoln’s brilliance, but instead I will try to keep my comments short and let the address, printed below, speak for itself.

Of all the salient points in the address, two jump out at me more than any of the others. The first is that Lincoln cited the proper foundation for his remarks: “Four score and seven years ago.” A score is twenty years. That means that Lincoln was referring to 1776, specifically the Declaration of Independence. Our county had been ripped apart by several sectional issues, the most prominent of which was slavery. It was THE hot-button issue of the day. You think health care, abortion, and border control are controversial today . . . well, slavery was worse. Compromises worked for a little while, but over the years, states and citizens became increasingly polarized and hostile. By the 1850s, Kansas had exploded into violence in what would be a precursor to the Civil War (known as “Bleeding Kansas”). In Washington, a southern senator beat a northern senator with his cane (many southerners responded by mailing this senator more canes!). In 1859, John Brown invaded Harper’s Ferry, hoping to incite a spontaneous slave revolt throughout the South. Then, of course, in 1861, the Civil War started. And it was, in a word, a bloodbath.

But in all this time, no president had forcefully enunciated that slavery was incompatible with the ideals upon which this country was founded. But in this speech, Lincoln begins by reminding us all that our country is based on the idea that “all men are created equal.” His ensuing appeal for a “new birth of freedom” in our land could only be achieved if it was placed solidly on this foundational idea. Compromises and half-measures would no longer work. Things after the Civil War could not, and would not, be the same as they were before the conflict.

The second point is that Lincoln makes it very clear that this address is not for the dead, but the living. In stirring fashion, he exhorted his audience—those who were still alive—to be dedicated to the task that the fallen soldiers had started. That task, in short, was for them to live lives that embodied the ideals upon which our country was founded, and to help ensure that all people could realize their inalienable rights. If everyone would do their part, our form of government would not “perish from the earth.”

Well, enough of my verbosity. But let me just ask this in closing: Is this “task” of which Lincoln spoke finished in 2010? You see, I believe that the Gettysburg Address applies to us as American citizens today just as much as it applied to Lincoln’s original audience. In my view, there are laws, Supreme Court rulings, and various practices that take place today that are not in keeping with the ideals upon which our country was founded. It is therefore up to me (and, I would suggest, all of us) to be dedicated to the (still) unfinished task that those soldiers at Gettysburg had “thus far so nobly advanced.” Lincoln was talking to a large crowd in 1863, but he was also talking to us.

I hope you enjoy reading and reflecting on the words of Abraham Lincoln:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure.

We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.

The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,

that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

June 4th: From Bible trivia to bathrooms

2010-11-12T09:21:00.018-05:00

June 4th was the final day of our five-day swing through northern Israel. We weaved our way from the Galilee region through the Jezreel Valley, and by the end of the day we were back in Jerusalem. The day was exciting as they all were, but the sad feeling was starting to sink in that this was it. Once we got back to Jerusalem, it was time to take our final exam, do some last-minute shopping and sight-seeing, then pack up to go home. The picture you see here is of Beth-Shean National Park, our last stop of the day. Beth-Shean probably had the most intricate Roman remains of any place that we visited, but more on that later.

I think I have mentioned this before, or at least alluded to it, but this trip had a lot of “Bible trivia” associated with it. Like the famous Rorschach ink blot tests, you might look at this photo and see a simple clump of trees in the foreground. But it is actually the biblical site of Endor, where Israel's first king, King Saul, visited a witch who called the prophet Samuel back from the dead (1 Samuel 28—things weren’t going so well for Saul at the time). Okay, if you insist that it is merely a clump of trees, you are right. But it is so much more!

Likewise, this is a drive-by photo of the town of Nain (you can tell that I took it from the bus). This town is prominent in Luke 7, where Jesus raised a person from the dead there--the only son of a widow. It consistently amazed me that so many places where biblical miracles took place are today just normal old towns with houses, apartments, shopping centers and automobiles.

These are the ruins of the fortress of Megiddo. This is where King Josiah was killed when he went out to fight against the Egyptian pharaoh and his army (2 Kings 23:29). Josiah was a God-fearing king, and he was sort of the “last best hope” for the kingdom of Judah. After his death, Judah took its last downward spiral into disobedience and was conquered and exiled by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. I have a memory aid for this historical episode based on Elvis Presley’s “In the Ghetto” (my version is “In Megiddo”), but I won’t go into that now.

This is a photo of the Jezreel Valley, which is a large area mentioned many times in the Bible, particularly during the time of rulers such as Ahab and Jezebel. The thing I remember most about the Jezreel Valley is that it is about the only place in Israel that was very flat. Unfortunately we did not do much walking there.

As I said, we ended the day at Beth-Shean National Park. This picture is an overview of the remains of the Roman city. Notice the very steep mountain in the background. This would be the last major climb of the trip!

And a tough climb it was. Click on this photo to get a closer view of this steep mountain. Notice the size of the steps compared to the mountain. I would add that what you can't see in this picture is that it took many steps, maybe about 100, just to get to the area of the palm trees in the foreground. This was indeed one of the steepest climbs we did! And when I got to the top, I was rewarded by getting to see . . . you guessed it, more Roman remains! (And a wonderful view of Beth-Shean)

This is a Roman stadium at Beth-Shean, with my seminary Hebrew professor signaling victory at the top.

My final photos from Beth-Shean are ones that I just couldn’t resist sharing with you. During this trip we spent a lot of time talking about the events, culture, and lifestyles of ancient peoples. This included famous folks like King Herod as well as the everyday people. One thing we never talked about—up until now, that is—is, how did all of these people go to the bathroom? Well, at Beth-Shean, we got a glimpse into this piercing question, at least from the Roman perspective. If you click on this picture, you will see a close-up of a sign that explains the remains of a Roman-era public lavatory.

So here it is, an ancient public bathroom. Now, without getting into too much detail, you can see the “toilet seats” against the wall. Notice that they were not separated. Everyone got to sit right next to their fellow-citizen out in the open air, one seat per customer (actually, they would sit straddled on two consecutive seats, and that’s all I’m going to say about that). When finished, they would lean forward and make use of fresh water running through a narrow trough to clean up (you can see the trough in the picture), using some sort of sponge or leaf contraption.

Admit it, don’t you feel blessed now that you know this little tidbit about ancient history?

The return of Stupid Song Lyrics

2010-11-10T11:17:00.007-05:00

Well, it has been a few months since I have forayed into the realm of the bizarre and sometimes illogical world of pop song lyrics. So today I continue the second-Wednesday-of-the-month tradition with three song lyrics that have oft left me vexed and perplexed.

1. “Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun” -- You remember this line from the 70s hit “Blinded by the Light,” don’t you? (sung by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, written by Bruce Springsteen).

Since when does the sun have eyes? Hurricanes have eyes. Needles have eyes. The sun has earth-sized flames of molten heat measuring to about a million degrees Fahrenheit. This song is the only place that I have ever heard of the sun having eyes, and since neither the performers nor the songwriter are scientists, I am left skeptical. The other thing about this lyric that makes me chuckle is the folksy appeal to motherly advice . . . “Mama always said to brush your teeth before you go to bed, pack an extra pair of underwear, never kiss on the first date, life is like a box of chocolates, and, oh yeah, NEVER, EVER look into the ‘eyes’ of the sun.”

2. Speaking of chuckling, how about Steve Miller’s “Abracadabra” from the early 80s? “Abra-abra-cadabra, I wanna reach out and grab ya.”

“I wanna reach out and grab ya”??? In the infamous words of John McEnroe, “You can’t be serious!” I can picture Steve Miller being stymied for weeks, asking everyone he knew, “Hey, what rhymes with Abracadabra?” Finally, it dawns on him . . . “-dabra . . . grab ya . . . yeah, it just might work!”

3. “Girls become lovers who turn into mothers, so mothers be good to your daughters, too.” -- John Mayer, “Daughters” (2005)

Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a heartfelt song about a young man who realizes that his girlfriend’s emotional distance is not his fault, but rather a result of the lack of love and even maltreatment from her parents, particularly her father. Fathers and mothers must be good to their daughters. I get it. But, whenever I hear this particular line, I envision the following scene. A mother and her six-year old daughter are at the kitchen table, as mom helps li’l schnookems with her homework:

“Mommy, I love you so much. You are just sooooo good to me.”

“Oh, thank you. I love you sooooo much too, darling. But do you know why I am sooooo good to you?”

“Well, I think it’s on account a that you have an instinctual maternal bond with me that desires to provide for me and protect me and because I have intrinsic worth and human value as a child created in the image of God and on account a that you take seriously your God-ordained role to bring me up in the training and admonition of the Lord.”

“No, sweety, don’t be silly. It’s because some day you are going to be somebody’s lover. And soon after that, you will turn into a mother. That’s why all mothers should be good to their daughters.”

[Pause.]

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweety?”

“Can I go outside and play now?”

My two sons (part 2)

2010-11-05T08:34:00.010-04:00

Matthew’s surgery was a bit of a curveball thrown into our lives last week, and as we brought him home from the hospital last Thursday, we were not sure if we would be able to proceed with our plans to visit my older son at college over the weekend. As it turns out, Matthew felt fine by Friday morning, so we took off that afternoon for Lynchburg, Virginia, to visit Chad at Liberty University for Parent’s Weekend.

First of all, it was a terrific getaway weekend, even though we still had not quite recovered from being awake for forty straight hours during the appendectomy episode, or from falling further behind on all of our work. Nevertheless, it was a perfect fall weekend, which in the mountains of western Virginia means beautiful scenery of the leaves changing all sorts of wonderful colors.

We did the standard stuff on Parent’s Weekend. We walked around the campus, looked at a few of my son’s classrooms, visited his church, and of course, ate a lot of food. We also took a drive up some narrow, steep trails on a mountain right near campus, which I thought was fun, though it freaked out a few others in the car. All in all, it was terrific to see Chad, chat about how he is doing, meet a few of his friends, and talk about his plans for the spring and summer. On this last subject, he is planning to go on a mission trip after the spring semester to North Africa and France.

And, by the way, he has been having the time of his life at college since day one, meeting lots of new friends, leading a prayer group in his dorm, and basically soaking in all of his new-found freedom and independence. In a lot of ways, his experience reminds me a lot of my first semester at college. Even his appearance reminds me of me back then. The only big difference is—and don’t tell him this—is that his grades are a lot better than mine were.

On our drive home from Lynchburg on Sunday I got to thinking. You know, two years ago Chad went on a mission trip to Ecuador. He had a great time (which included eating roasted guinea pig), and when he came home he told us that he felt God might be calling him to be a missionary when he “grew up.” This was exciting news, but at the same time, Barbara and I cautioned him to continue to pray about it and see where the Lord leads. After all, this could have been more of an emotional reaction to the Ecuador trip.

But, in the past two years, he has continued to earnestly grow in his faith. He led a Bible study for the youth group at his church, volunteered to be a prayer group leader when he arrived at college, volunteered to speak to his old youth group a few weeks ago (they were on a retreat up near Lynchburg), and has his eye set on doing another significant mission trip next spring. Looking to the future, his plans right now are to attend seminary after college in order to prepare for the mission field.

As I began to ponder the broad trajectory of his life, it dawned on me that God is really “up to something” in this young man’s life. It has been one of the extreme joys of my life to see Chad grow and develop into an excellent young man, particularly in the way that he lives out his Christian beliefs. And, it will be incredibly exciting to see how God continues to mold him and work in his life in the future.

I suspect by now that you realize what “part 1” and “part 2” of this blog entry have in common. As my family and friends are aware, my life has been busier in the last few years than it has ever been before. The reason is that I have embarked on an “extended career transition” after my twenty years in the Navy, and this has necessitated a very demanding schedule. It is very exhilarating, though, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. However, sometimes I get so caught up in my day-to-day busyness that I don’t take time to appreciate what God is doing in the lives of my sons, nor take the time to thank Him for just how good He is to me. I honestly believe that God is “up to something” significant in the lives of both of my sons. I am as proud as a parent could be of both of them. At the same time, I realize that I don’t deserve such goodness from God, but give Him thanks for what He is doing in the lives of Chad and Matthew, and that I have the privilege of being a part of it.

My two sons (part 1)

2010-11-03T09:12:00.005-04:00

Last Wednesday, as my nine-year old son lay on a hospital bed about to go into surgery to remove his appendix, our church’s children’s minister stood at his bedside. She was chatting with him and comforting him in the moments before he would be carted off to that mysterious and unknown place known as the O.R. Before she left, she asked if there was anything she could do for him. Pausing for only a second, Matthew said, “Can you pray for me?”

Having an appendectomy is an unpleasant and scary thing for a young child. First there is the physical pain in the lower right area of the stomach. Then there are the tests in the hospital, including the dreaded contrast dye that must be drunk prior to a CAT scan—not exactly a chocolate milkshake. The child must also endure various shots with needles—again, not a favorite activity. But on top of all this is the fear of having surgery. It became apparent to Matthew early on that he was going to require an operation, and he could not help but overhear some of the conversations between the doctors and his parents regarding incisions, the process of removing the appendix, being put to sleep during the procedure, etc. He was scared.

Throughout our long evening and even longer day at the hospital (two hospitals, as a matter of fact—he had to be transferred to the local children’s hospital for the surgery), one thing that I noticed is that prayer was at the forefront of Matthew’s thoughts. Before asking the children’s minister to pray for him, he had asked his mother and me the same thing throughout our time at the hospitals. To me, Matthew’s initiative in taking his fears to the Lord in prayer indicates a spiritual awareness and sincerity beyond that of a typical nine-year old.

Let me put it this way. We all face crises in life. It’s sort of where “the rubber meets the road,” in our Christian walk, so to speak. It is during these times when, if you are a Christian, you must ask yourself, “Is all this stuff I believe about God really true? Or do I simply pay lip service to it?” You see, it’s possible—and sometimes even easy—to go to church every week, study the Bible, memorize Scripture, give to the poor, sing in the choir, and do a hundred other “Christian” things, but not really believe in Him at the very core of your soul. Is there really a God who made this whole universe? Was there really a man named Jesus who lived, and died, and rose from the dead about two thousand years ago? Is there really such a thing as a “Holy Spirit” who lives inside of me? When things are going well, it is easy to answer “Yes, of course.” But when crises arise, we are given the opportunity to put into practice our stated beliefs. It’s like the difference between, on the one hand, understanding how a parachute works, and, on the other hand, jumping out of a plane with one strapped to your back. Jumping out of the plane shows that you really believe it.

Matthew made it through this routine surgery fine, and bounced back rather quickly, as most children do. And as I have reflected on this episode over the past few days, I have felt excitement, encouragement, and exhilaration over what I witnessed in my young son. Matthew is a Christian, and does a whole bunch of appropriate “Christian stuff”: Sunday School, Bible Drill, prayer before meals and bedtime, etc. But, in the face of fear, he realized that all this “stuff” points to what is really true. It’s not just a bunch of good works that he is obligated to do.

In addition, I wholeheartedly believe that God is “up to something” very significant in this young boy’s life. Since his birth (details in “My Story” portion of this blog), I have seen God’s hand on him at many times and in many ways. Seeing his childlike faith-in-action during his appendectomy is just one more incident where I see a very special, God-honoring life taking shape. It will be one of the immense joys of my life to see what is in store.

June 3rd (part 2): Walking in His footsteps

2010-10-22T08:01:00.013-04:00

In my last Israel trip entry, I said that June 3rd was kind of a special day. It was the day we toured all of the towns around the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus did the bulk of His earthly ministry. This day included stops at the three towns where Jesus did most of His preaching and teaching: Capernaum, Bethsaida, and Chorazin (collectively known as the "Evangelical Triangle"). The photo you see here is a sign welcoming us to Capernaum, “The Town of Jesus.” Matthew 4:13 tells us that after His baptism and subsequent time of fasting and temptation in the desert, Jesus lived in Capernaum.

This picture is of a fifth-century church built by Byzantine pilgrims that marks the location of the house of Simon Peter. We know that Peter had a house in Capernaum from Mark 1:29 and Luke 4:38. Also, in this immediate area, archaeologists have unearthed inscriptions from another house, dated to the late first-century A.D., that reference Jesus Christ, Peter, and the Eucharist (Communion, or the Lord’s Supper). It was likely a house church (that’s where churches met back then) that met just a few decades after Jesus lived.

In Israel, churches are often built on top of places of historical significance. At the location of Peter’s house, it has happened twice. A modern church is built over this fifth-century Byzantine church. The photo that you see is an overhead view of the old church from inside the modern church (obviously, looking through protective glass).

Here is a picture of a statue of Peter in Capernaum, complete with a freshly-caught fish at his feet. Not seen in this photo are several inscriptions underneath the statue noting the significant life of Peter.

Having finished our tour of the towns on the northern side of the Sea of Galilee, we proceeded to check out a few interesting places on the eastern shore of the Sea. The first was near a place called Gergesa. The Bible describes it as the region of the Gadarenes. The picture you see is of a steep bank dropping into the Sea of Galilee (it might not look terribly steep in the picture, but believe me, it was very steep). This is the probable place where Jesus drove a legion of demons out of a possessed man, and sent the demons into about two thousand pigs. The pigs then ran down this steep bank into the Sea of Galilee and drowned (see Mark 5:1-17).

By the way, I had always been slightly puzzled by this passage in that, I thought Jews did not tend, raise, or eat pigs. I asked about this. The professor reminded us that the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee was known as the region of the Decapolis (a term mentioned in the Bible). As the name suggests, this was an area of ten Roman cities. Thus the pig farmers were likely not Jewish.

This picture is of prominent mountains on the northeast shore of the Sea of Galilee, and is the most likely sight of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. This is deduced primarily from what we are told in the biblical accounts, i.e. these mountains were in a somewhat remote area, removed from towns and villages, and could support the amount of people referenced in this event (which was five thousand men plus women and children, perhaps fifteen to twenty thousand in all).

Our last stop of the day was at the remains of the Roman city of Hippus. Hippus was one of the cities of the Decapolis. The photo that you see is the main road of the ancient city, the “cardio maximus.” Every Roman city had one. It was kind of like “Main Street.”

Hippus had a lot of interesting Roman remains. In this picture you can see an example. But, what I’d also point out is the mountain top in the background. Hippus was a city that rested atop a mountain of a few thousand feet! I remember as our bus approached Hippus, I noted a large mountain in front of us, but I thought, “No worries, the bus will take us to the top.” But guess what? The bus stopped half way and we had to walk the rest of the way up! Believe me, after a long day of touring, the last thing I wanted to do was make another long, steep trek.

As I think back on my trip now, I can remember having this thought on several of our “final stops of the day.” This trip was mentally and physically taxing. By the end of some days, I just didn’t feel like making one last climb to another ancient city’s ruins. But you know what? In every case, that last stop of the day was well worth any climb. I saw some amazing things on June 3rd, and even though Hippus may not seem to compare to a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee or Peter’s house in Capernaum, nevertheless, I can’t tell you how amazing it was to see the intricate nature of this Roman city perched all alone atop this breathtakingly steep hill. I would have hated to have missed it. I would also have hated to have been the first-century “delivery man” who had to hike a bunch of supplies up that hill every day for the people of Hippus!

Pet peeve #435: It’s not their “bye week”

2010-10-20T08:37:00.005-04:00

As long as I’m on the subject of pet peeves, allow me to share another one briefly. We are in the middle of another NFL football season, and the pet peeve I describe here has to do with a specific word that I hear used all of the time during the season.

The word is “bye.” Not “bye” as in “good-bye,” but rather, as it relates to sports schedules. In the NFL, each team has one Sunday off during the regular season. The week varies for each team. For instance, this coming Sunday, four teams do not play (the Detroit Lions, Indianapolis Colts, New York Jets, and Houston Texans). The following week, four other teams are off, etc. This scheduling template has been used by the NFL for years.

The problem that I have is that for years now, whether it’s athletes or sportscasters or sports journalists or casual fans, I generally hear people refer to a team’s off week as their “bye week.” If you are a football fan, you’ve no doubt heard it a million times. “The Steelers are 5-2 going into their bye week” or “Who do the Falcons play this week? . . . Oh, it’s their bye week.”

And as is the case with most of my pet peeves, for years I suffered silently (up until recently, that is, when I can now blog about them!). Externally I grinned and carried on with the conversation, or with watching the telecast, or with listening to the sports talk radio program. But internally, I screamed, “IT’S NOT A BYE! THAT’S NOT WHAT THE MEANING OF ‘BYE’ IS!”

Let’s go to the dictionary.

Webster’s: A bye is “a position of a participant in a tournament who has no opponent after pairs are drawn and advances to the next round without playing.”

Dictionary.com: Bye: “in a tournament, the preferential status of a player or team not paired with a competitor in an early round and thus automatically advanced to play in the next round.”

The NFL regular season schedule gives each team a week off, not a bye. A bye has to do with automatically advancing in a tournament. Venus Williams might get a bye in the first round at Wimbledon, but the Detroit Lions do not have a bye this weekend. They just have the week off. Yet the use of “bye” is nearly universally accepted as valid to describe these off weeks. In fact, I just went to ESPN’s website to check out the NFL schedule, and sure enough, they use the term “bye” when listing the teams not playing on given Sundays.

I think the main reason I have this particular peeve is that I was a wrestler in high school, and an average one at that. As such, I often had to wrestle against a comparable opponent in the first round of a tournament. If I won, I inevitably would then have to face the top wrestler in my weight class in the second round. And more often than not, he was coming off of a bye, i.e. there were not enough wrestlers to match everyone up with a first-round opponent, so the top wrestler was not paired with an opponent and thus advanced to the next round without wrestling . . . the textbook definition of a bye!

And, more often than not, I would get manhandled in the second round of these tournaments. Having come off of a hard-fought win, I would go up against the fresh top-seeded guy, and I didn’t stand much of a chance. Those were painful matches, but looking back, at least I can say that they forever cemented in my mind the meaning of the word “bye.”

Pet peeve #253 (actually, let’s just call it #300): Estimation

2010-10-15T08:56:00.006-04:00

Quick: How many seconds are in an hour?

(Pause to let you come up with the answer.)

Okay, you probably quickly recalled that there are 60 seconds in a minute, and 60 minutes in an hour. Therefore, the number of seconds in an hour is determined by multiplying 60 x 60, which equals 3,600. That’s the correct answer, right?

Well, hold on. Remember that I said “Quick.” I would suggest there is another way to come up with an answer, and it is theoretically quicker. I do it by estimating. Let me explain. I make a mental note that there are 60 seconds in a minute, and 60 minutes in an hour. But to make it easier to calculate, I round each 60 to the nearest hundred, which in this case would be 100. Thus my quick estimate of how many seconds are in an hour is 100 x 100 = 10,000.

So even though the actual answer is 3,600, I was able to come up with a reasonable guess of 10,000 by doing some simple, quick rounding. Surely you can begin to see the power of estimation.

Does this strike you as ridiculous?

Well, stay with me for a moment. Here is an actual question from an actual math worksheet assigned to my fourth-grader a few weeks ago. They were studying estimation.

846,543 – 587,018 =

I will spare you the need to do the calculations and tell you that the real answer to this subtraction problem is 259,525. But to find the answer by estimating, the “proper procedure” is to round to the nearest 100,000. So the first number rounds down to 800,000 and the second number rounds up to 600,000. So, the correct estimate of the answer is 200,000.

Now, I don’t know about you, but this astounds me. What good is estimating if your estimate is almost 60,000 off from the real answer? I’ll say it again. The real answer is 259,525, but the “correct” estimate is 200,000. Really, what’s the point? It’s like me “estimating” that there are 10,000 seconds in an hour. It’s meaningless. Not to put too fine a point on it, but according to Webster, an estimate is “an approximate calculation,” and approximate means “nearly correct or exact.” An estimate is supposed to be close to the real answer!

Sarcastic parent that I am, I tried to remember learning estimation when I was in grade school. And for the life of me, I can’t remember it. I might just be forgetting it. Or perhaps I thought it was so stupid that I’ve blocked it out of my memory. But what I do remember is this . . . brace yourself . . . I remember learning how to add and subtract really big numbers rather quickly so WE COULD GET THE RIGHT ANSWER THE FIRST TIME AND NOT HAVE TO MAKE BOGUS ESTIMATIONS!

Nevertheless, maybe I can briefly offer a more plausible alternative. Look once again at the problem I posed above. Maybe instead of teaching kids to round off to the nearest 100,000 in a situation like this, they can be taught to round off to the nearest 10,000. This would make the estimate look like this:

850,000 – 590,000 = 260,000

Now that’s a lot closer of an estimate! Of course, one might object that this would not be fast because a child would have to subtract 85 – 59 in his or her head rather quickly. That seems difficult. All I would say to that is I disagree. Instead of trying to subtract 59, just subtract 60 then add 1 back on to it. That makes it quick, and kids are capable of learning a trick like that.

Well, I’m going to estimate that a few people will not agree with my flow of thought on this matter, or wonder why it bugs me. But hey, that’s why they call them “pet peeves.”

June 3rd (part 1): Put your hand in the hand . . .

2010-10-13T07:34:00.013-04:00

I was in Israel for three weeks, and without exception, every day was amazing, awe-inspiring, awesome, plus many other superlatives. It’s hard for me to say that any one day was better or more fascinating than any other. But if I did speculate in such matters, June 3rd might jump out as special. This is the day that our class toured the towns bordering the Sea of Galilee, so we saw many places where Jesus taught, healed, and performed miracles—including the Sea itself! Because we saw so much this day, I have decided to split it into two entries. As you can see by this first photo, our day began with a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee.

The resort where we stayed was on the southeast shore of the Sea, so our early morning ride took us across to the north/northwest shore, where Jesus performed much of His earthly ministry. This picture was taken from the back of the boat. At the front, on the right side, you can see our professor, with a microphone, teaching us. This reminds me of just how jam-packed our teaching was. The professor rarely wasted time; she spent a ton of time lecturing, answering questions, and providing various wise tidbits on bus rides (and boat rides) all over the country. I can't say enough about what an excellent scholar and teacher she is. We never stopped learning.

This is a picture of the Sea of Galilee from the boat. Two things. First, in the distance you can see the Arbel Pass, the narrow ravine that leads into the Sea of Galilee region. You might recall that we previously were on top of that dangerously steep mountain. Second, amidst all the excitement of taking the boat ride, I remember taking a minute to just silently gaze out on the water. We were crossing over the water where Jesus walked! This was the sea that Jesus calmed! It was almost too much to take in. It’s one of those experiences that is so incredible that I sometimes think it must have been a dream.

When we got to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, we went to a museum to see a significant archaeological find. This photo is of a first-century boat discovered under the Sea of Galilee in the 1980s. The story of how this boat was recovered is an amazing one in and of itself, because it took quite an effort (hundreds of volunteers from all over the world) to keep the 2000-year old boat intact and preserved. There are various clues that pinpoint the age of this boat to the time of Jesus. Unfortunately, there are no initials carved into the boat, so there is no way of knowing whether Jesus or His disciples (some of whom were fishermen) owned or operated this boat.

On the north shore of the Sea of Galilee, we visited the three towns known as the “Evangelical Triangle”—Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. These are the three towns where Jesus did most of His teaching and preaching. The picture you see here is of a synagogue in Chorazin. Specifically, this is a prominent chair found in many ancient synagogues known as the “chair of Moses.” It was the place where the teacher would sit while teaching. You might recall that Jesus once harshly criticized the Jewish leaders when He taught, “The scribes and the Pharisees are seated in the chair of Moses. Therefore do whatever they tell you and observe it. But don’t do what they do, because they don’t practice what they teach.” (Matthew 23:2-3) Some of the students got their picture taken sitting in this chair, but after the professor had read those verses, I felt a little funny about it.

This synagogue also had stone remains with various decorations on them. The stone pictured here has an imprint of helios, the Roman sun god. This prompted an obvious, and very good, question: What is a decoration of the Roman sun god doing in a Jewish synagogue? The professor proceeded to explain that it is common in many cultures to have decorations that come from their society, and therefore some are of pagan, or at least unbiblical, origin. It seems kind of inconsistent with their sacredly-held religious beliefs, but it happens. It was at this point that I, ever the smart aleck, chimed in, rather loudly, “Hey, my church back home had six Christmas trees in the sanctuary last December.” Nobody laughed.

To round out part one of our June 3rd travels, I show a picture of the Mount of Beatitudes, named obviously for the location of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. I’m afraid the photo does not do it justice, for the Mount of Beatitudes juts out of the Sea of Galilee, forming almost a natural bowl-shaped mountain. This makes for excellent acoustics. In fact, I noticed that from several hundred yards up the mountain, I could hear music and laughter from one of the boats that was near the shore. Being there made it a lot easier to comprehend how Jesus could have addressed thousands of people without the need of a microphone. And, as was so often the case in Israel, being there made me ponder many of the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount. When you think about it, that sermon has a very radical message.

Part 2: Reconstructing the days of your life

2010-10-08T09:13:00.003-04:00

Last time I posed this question: If you were able to replay any given day of your life (starting at an age when you are capable of remembering things), would you be able to recall at least one thing that happened on that day? I postulated that I think I’d be able to recall something—at least one thing—from the large majority of the days of my life. However, I did not express rock-solid confidence in this speculation.

Today I want to examine this question from a different angle—not in terms of replaying a day in your life, but rather by taking a distant memory or event and trying to pinpoint the exact day on which it happened. Let’s look at a few examples.

In a recent blog entry, I shared a memory from my early childhood about a day when I forgot to pay for my milk in the cafeteria. My question now is this: Is there any way that I can figure out the day (or even the month) that this episode took place?

I think you can readily see that this is a difficult task. In many cases it would be impossible to determine the exact day on which an event or memory took place. But as I have pondered this whole idea over the past twenty years or so, I have come to the conclusion that many memories and events are possible to reconstruct—even more than I initially thought. Doing so is like doing detective work, and sources such as family and the internet are very helpful.

Let’s look at my “forgot-to-pay-for-my-milk” experience. This is what I know: I know it happened when I was in first grade, so it happened in either 1972 or 1973. And it was a school day, so it happened sometime between Monday and Friday. And that’s about all I can say about it. Suppose, though, that I reminisced about this with my parents, and my mom said something like, “I remember that day very well. You came home from school and told me all about it. I had been sad about Aunt Matilda’s death the previous day, and this cheered me up.” Well, then, in that case, I could do some research and find out the day that Aunt Matilda died. Then, Voila!, I would then have “reconstructed” the exact day that the milk event happened. (I don’t really have an Aunt Matilda, it is just an attention-grabbing name used for illustrative purposes.)

What has fascinated me is that I have been able to combine distant memories with corroborating or verifiable facts and have come up with exact dates of events in my life. I recently did a silly experiment in this regard on the subject of rock concerts that I attended in high school and college. By combining the memories of specific conversations with relatives and specific known events in my life, and with the aid of the internet and my college yearbooks, I was able to pinpoint the exact dates of eight different concerts that I attended. For instance, I saw the Police in concert on August 20, 1983, Billy Joel on February 14, 1984, and the Cars on July 16, 1984. The Billy Joel concert is a good example of what I am talking about. I have a very distinct memory of being at that concert on Valentine’s Day, and I remember it was in my senior year of high school. Joel’s past concert dates are available online, so I was easily able to look it up and verify that my memory was correct.

All this has led me to an ambitious idea, and it is where I will leave this subject for now. I have never kept a diary or journal in my life. But all this pondering has persuaded me that I can reconstruct one to a sizable degree. So over time, as memories come back to me, I do a little digging to see if I can verify exact dates of events. And if I can’t get the exact date, I can sometimes narrow it down to a range of dates, or perhaps a particular month. When I can deduce a date or range of dates, I jot it down. And at some point, when I have the time, I'll transfer all of the notes onto an Outlook calendar, or something like that.

In the meantime, I hope I don’t forget where I put all of those notes!

Remembering the days of your life, Part 1

2010-10-06T08:54:00.003-04:00

Imagine if you could board a time machine and go back to any day of your life. It could be ten years ago, it could be twenty-five years ago . . . just any random day. Imagine further that you could re-live that day with yourself, observing from a distance everything that happened to you, from the time that you woke up in the morning until the time you set your tired head upon the pillow at night. You could see once again (but not change!) everything that happened to you on that day.

My question is this: For any given day in your past (starting at about the age of five or six, when the human is capable of remembering things), would there be at least one thing that happened that day that you specifically remember? One specific event? One conversation? One thought? Or, are there days in our lives that contain no specific, discernable memories?

Now, you may or may not have thought about this question before, and you may or may not think it is an interesting one. But, in the spirit of confessing my innermost thoughts on the internet for anyone to see, I will say that this is a question that has fascinated me for at least twenty years. I often find myself pondering whether or not, given the chance to replay, say, April 10, 1974, I would say at least one time, “Ah, yes, I specifically remember that!”

The great thing about hypothetical questions is that everyone can give hypothetical answers, and (at least in situations such as this) nobody is wrong. But having contemplated this question for a few decades now (and, by the way, this is the first time I have ever told anyone about this), here is what I think:

I believe that if I could replay every day of my life, in almost all cases (probably more than 95%), I would indeed be able to recall at least one specific memory from that day—a joke that someone told, something a teacher said, a conversation, a fight with one of my sisters (wait, that never happened!), a baseball game, etc. But I do think that there are a very small percentage of days, most of which would be from my early childhood, where I really could not honestly recall one thing. I think I would certainly recall some “constants” of my life during the time periods in question—the wart on my finger, the dent in the back of the Station Wagon, the way that the dog acted when she needed to be let outside, etc. But I would not necessarily remember a specific memory that happened only on that day.

So in the majority of the “days of my life,” I think I could recall a specific memory. But whenever I start to feel confident about this answer, I begin to wonder if I am wrong. Maybe there are more days than I care to admit that have forever become black holes, where, even if I could see a replay of the whole day, nothing would jump out as memorable. Maybe I would only be able to recall a specific memory from 75% of the days of my life, or maybe 50%. But I rather think that there is more information (including specific memories) packed into our brains than we tend to think, which drives me back to my original conclusion.

Indeed my uncertainty over this is what has led me to ponder it for so long. What do you think? (To be continued . . .)

Just my four cents worth

2010-10-01T09:04:00.009-04:00

When I was in kindergarten, or perhaps it was first grade, school lunch cost thirty-five cents. Great deal, huh? With the start of a new school year recently, I found out that lunch at my son’s elementary school is $1.90, and according to him, “it’s not enough food.” Now, this comment did not surprise me at first, since, theoretically speaking, there was never enough food in the known universe for my older son (now in college), and my younger one is catching up rapidly. But upon clarification, I found out that the standard lunch at his school is four items: entrée, milk, and two sides. I can specifically remember that when I was in school, the standard lunch was five items. Higher cost, less food. But of course, isn’t that the case with everything these days?

The conversation got me to thinking about the cost of a single carton of milk. My son told me that it is fifty cents. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? And maybe it’s not. But hearing this gave me a flashback of an incident that happened to me in the first grade, when I was about six years old.

Back then, I typically brought my lunch to school, and bought milk at the cafeteria. And at the time, milk cost four cents. Four cents! That sounds kind of unbelievable now. Is there anything nowadays that costs four cents? But it’s true. I would bring a nickel to school in my pocket, and go home with a penny’s change.

One day, something happened that scared me to death. It was in the afternoon, and I was in the bathroom washing my hands. I froze in fear as I realized that the nickel was still in my pocket! I had taken a milk at lunchtime, and somehow forgotten to pay for it. I remember looking in the bathroom mirror trying to hold back the tears, almost in panic. What should I do?

Well, I told my teacher that I forgot to pay for my milk, and asked for permission to go back to the cafeteria. When I got there, I sheepishly walked “backstage” to the cooking area (a no-man’s land for students) to find the lunch lady. I can remember that she was surprised to see a student standing there. She asked me what I was doing, and I proceeded, nearly in tears, to tell her what happened. Pulling the nickel out of my pocket, I paid for the milk, and got my penny in change. I do recall a slight grin on the lunch lady’s face, though at the time I did not know why—this was a serious matter! But of course it must have seemed cute to see this little kid in such distress over a four cent milk.

As for me, I just breathed a huge sigh of relief. I had been envisioning the authorities bursting into my classroom to apprehend me when they found out that I was the one who had not paid for his milk. To have made things right and to return to class without the specter of trouble . . . that was a huge burden off of my young shoulders.

So, there is my “Honest Abe” story. It wasn’t a twelve mile trek in the snow to repay a penny to a poor old widow, but hey, nothing is as dramatic as it used to be.

And finally, this little jog down memory lane got me to thinking. With all of this inflation, have you ever noticed that the phrase “just my two cents worth” has never changed over the years? Somehow it has not “gone up in price” like everything else in our economy has. So, in honor of my four cent milk memory, and in recognition that it is time to raise the cost of this saying, and because I fancy myself a cultural trend-setter in inconsequential matters, I am going to start using the expression “just my four cents worth” instead of “two cents worth” in every day conversation. We’ll see if it catches on. Won’t you join me?

June 2nd: The northern edge

2010-09-29T13:26:00.012-04:00

Since I have been home from Israel, nary a Sunday goes by when I don’t give my wife a nudge in the middle of a sermon and whisper, “I was there!”—in reference to a Bible verse or other anecdote made by the pastor. I’ve been back for nearly four months, so now that I think about it, she’s probably getting tired of it. However, one thing that was so awe-inspiring about this trip is that I had the privilege to be at so many locations mentioned in the Bible. Some of these places were rather obvious, like the Temple in Jerusalem. But some were rather obscure. But in either case, I found all of these places fascinating just the same. On June 2nd we traveled to the north of the Sea of Galilee region to the extreme northern end of the country of Israel. We saw some well-known, and some not well-known, biblical sites.

“This is the account of the forced labor that King Solomon had imposed to build the Lord’s Temple, his own palace, the supporting terraces, the wall of Jerusalem, and Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer.” 1 Kings 9:15 The photo you see here is the gate to the town of Hazor from the time of King Solomon. Yes, sirree, an actual “Solomonic Gate.” We saw many such gates in Israel (for instance, we also visited Megiddo and Gezer, mentioned in this verse from 1 Kings), and it never ceased to amaze me that we were looking at the actual walls built during the times of the Bible. Solomon built the town of Hazor as a fortress in order to defend Israel from would-be invaders from the north.

“Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.’” Matthew 16:16 Later on we visited the town of Caesarea-Philippi, several miles north of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus had taken his disciples to this town to “get away for a bit” before His final journey to Jerusalem to be crucified. While alone with His disciples in this town, Jesus asked them a very pointed question: "Who do people say that I am?" The disciples had several responses. But then Jesus asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter, of course, answered with his famous confession.

In Caesarea-Philippi, we saw a large, heavy device (sorry I didn’t get a picture of it) that could be turned in a circle and leave an imprint in the sand. The imprint, which you can see in the photo here, commemorates the important interchange between Jesus and Peter in this town.

“The Danites set up the carved images for themselves. Jonathan son of Gershom, son of Moses, and his sons were priests for the Danite tribe until the time of the exile from the land.” Judges 18:30 This verse in Judges tells us that the tribe of Dan, in northern Israel, worshiped carved images over the course of several centuries. The photo you see here is a cultic site in the town of Dan, one of the places where this false worship was conducted.

By the end of the day we had made it pretty close to the northern border of Israel. The photo here shows a white gravel road toward the top of the photo and a gray gravel road parallel to it in the foreground (harder to make out). Before 1967, the gray gravel road was in Israel and the white road was in Syria. The border is now a few miles to the north of here, but this shows you just how close we were to the border. It also reminds me of just how much of the country we traversed in this three-week trip.

When our day was done, we returned to the resort at the Sea of Galilee and took a nice refreshing swim. On this day I had seen places that had references back to three very different times—the Judges, Kings, and the New Testament. This, I think, gives you a good flavor of the layers and layers (and layers) of history that exist all over Israel. Anyway, after a swim in the Sea of Galilee and a great dinner, it was once again time to prepare for the next day and get some rest. June 3rd would be the day that took us to many places where Jesus walked—including the Sea of Galilee itself!

P2X

2010-09-24T07:32:00.003-04:00

If you have been alive in the past year or two, chances are you have heard of “P90X.” It is the latest in a seemingly never-ending parade of fitness programs available to the American consumer. I have no idea what the “P” stands for, but the “90” signifies that the program is 90 days long. (One of the first things I noticed when I bought the P90X DVD set is that it is a 13-week regimen, which technically is 91 days, but I won’t quibble.) The “X,” of course, stands for “EXTREME,” a word that can only be adequately expressed by placing it in all capital letters. P90X joins the nearly endless list of “EXTREME” products on the market today. In fact, the only way I can think of to advertise this product better would be to call it “P90X-Naked.” (If you don’t get that, see my blog entry from September 15th.)

Alright, so, in addition to the slick marketing, I have also been impressed with the personal testimonials. Over the past year I know of several people who have done the P90X program, and to a person, they all have glowing praise for it. Over time I became intrigued enough to look into doing the program myself. And the first problem I ran into is that it costs about $120 to $150. I wasn’t sure I wanted to pay that much for a program that, quite frankly, I might use just once or twice and then never use again. But then I got an idea. I figured that there must be a lot of people out there who have paid $120 or more for P90X, used it once, and now it is collecting dust on their bookshelf. So, I bought the DVD set via Craigslist. After withdrawing $50 from my bank account and executing what felt like a covert drug deal at a local mall, I became the proud owner of P90X.

My next big decision (after making the purchase) was when to start my first 90-day run through. I already knew that I was going out of town for a weekend in September for my mother and father-in-law’s 50th wedding anniversary, where I would not only be away from home, but I would be doing a lot of eating. In keeping with my long standing policy of not starting any diet or exercise program before such a trip, I decided to start after I returned home. That way I would weigh even more at the beginning of the 90 days, and my results would be all the more impressive.

Okay, one more decision to make before getting started. That is, how much extra “fitness stuff” am I going to buy before I begin? Like any company concerned with the welfare of the American consumer, P90X recommends/offers exercise mats, fitness drinks, push-up hand grips, exercise bands, heart-rate monitors, etc. etc. In addition, they recommend that participants take “before,” “during,” and “after” photos so that you can see your progress. I think they want you to have your photo taken at Days 0, 30, 60, and 90 (why not on Day 91 when you really finish?).

Anyway, at the risk of great embarrassment, the photo you see above will suffice as my “Day 0” photo. Let me explain. The day that I bought P90X, I watched the first video in my family room, just to see what a workout looks like. By the end of watching it, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the floor. My wife thought that it was pretty funny that I fell asleep merely watching P90X (yes, it does seem pretty pathetic), so she took the picture. Things can only get better, right? Anyway, I decided not to buy any of the other stuff, at least for now. If I waited to buy this, that, and the other thing, I’d never get started.

By the title of this blog entry, you may have guessed that I have now been on the program for two days—it’s just “P2X” for me, so far. So, how do I feel after two days? MISERABLE! Day 1 was an hour-long chest and back workout, admittedly a weak area for me. In keeping with one of the program’s catch-phrases, I “did my best, and forgot the rest” (meaning do what you can, and don’t worry if you can’t do it all). I did a modest amount of the push-ups and pull-ups, nowhere near the full workout, yet still, I could not feel my arms when the workout was over. I didn’t want to be too sore the next day, but, by the morning of Day 2, I was—how can I put it?—EXTREMEly sore.

The Day 2 workout was “Plyometrics,” which is basically an insane aerobic routine which is heavy on jumping, squatting, and using the leg muscles. I began the day with my own “fitness drink”—a half a glass of milk with an 800mg Motrin. As for the workout, I could do only about half of it, which was more than enough for the first try. The thing I liked best about the Plyometrics workout is that my legs hurt so much that I actually forgot about how badly my chest, arms, and back hurt from Day 1!

Well, I’m sure I’ll have more to say about this as my 91-day adventure proceeds. While I am very sore now, I do believe that over time, once I get used to all this, I will no doubt enjoy the program to the EXTREME.

June 1st: Nazareth

2010-09-22T07:50:00.010-04:00

“He [Jesus] went to Nazareth, where He had been brought up.” (Luke 4:16)

On Tuesday, June 1st, we continued on our five-day trip through the northern part of Israel. As always, we made several stops. But the key stop of the day was Nazareth, the town where Jesus grew up. The first thing one notices about Nazareth is that there is one high mountain in the city that is very prominent. You can’t miss it. It is called the Mount of Precipice, and it was our first stop in the town.

The first photo is of a sign at the Mount of Precipice. I was surprised that it alludes to a tradition that Jesus jumped off of this precipice to get away from the crowds. What actually happened here is the episode in Luke 4:28-30. Jesus had been preaching in his hometown, and the folks did not like His message. So, they led Him to the “brow of the hill,” to throw Him over. Jesus, however, “walked right through the crowd” and left. When you are in Nazareth and look around the city, you can see that the Mount of Precipice is the only place where this episode could have happened. As for the sign, I don’t know why it does not directly correspond to the Luke passage. I will say that while in Israel, I noted several instances where “tradition” trumped what the Bible actually says. Good thing that doesn’t happen in our Baptist churches in America.

This is a photo of the modern city of Nazareth from the Mount of Precipice. In the middle ground, you can see two structures with green domes. This is the site of the Church of the Annunciation, the supposed site where the angel visited Mary to announce the birth of Jesus through her. Again, scholars don’t know if this is the precise site, but it was likely in this vicinity. We later visited this church.

Here is another photo from the Mount of Precipice showing the other side of Nazareth, which is the Jezreel Valley (the only consistently flat part of Israel that I saw). I think this picture does a pretty good job of depicting how steep the Mount of Precipice is.

This photo is of the city of Nazareth from outside the Church of the Annunciation. It was pretty, and, it was the only place on the whole three-week trip where I got lost. For some reason I missed the call for my group to return to the bus (several blocks away). I didn’t panic, but at the same time, it’s a little scary to be looking around for twenty minutes and not seeing anyone you know, with no idea of how to get to the bus. Fortunately, our professor came back to get me.

Later we went to a first-century Nazareth village. Here you see a replica of an olive press, an extremely valuable tool in the ancient world, as olive oil was used for many purposes (lighting lamps, cooking, anointing, etc.)

After our visit to Nazareth, we proceeded to the region of Galilee. To get there, we traveled through the Arbel Pass, a very narrow, imposing ravine. It was a dangerous route in ancient times, however it was a key connecting point in the roads of the day, so it was widely traveled. We went to the top of one of the sides of the ravine, which was perhaps two thousand feet high. My photo does not do it justice, but if you were to take one step over these rocks, you would take an unpleasant fall of a few thousand feet. I found it interesting that there were no safety rails up there, no warning signs, nothing of what you would see in America. You were on your own to be smart enough not to get too close to the edge.

We ended the day by checking into a very nice hotel/resort right on the Sea of Galilee, where we would spend three nights. What an incredible treat this was! Here is a picture of the sun setting on the Sea of Galilee on June 1st.

When I say we were staying “right on the Sea of Galilee,” I’m not kidding. This picture is taken from the back porch of my room (How about that? Our rooms had porches!). It was about fifty yards from the water. I can remember looking around and shaking my head in disbelief. “Am I really at a resort sleeping fifty yards from the Sea of Galilee?” I still can’t believe it.

May 31st: Heading North

2010-09-17T06:27:00.018-04:00

Before my summer blogging hiatus, which by the way consisted of me taking a few intensive classes down at seminary and getting my older son off to college, I had been chronicling my recent trip to Israel. I had gone through the first two weeks of the three-week trip. I want to finish “blogging the trip,” especially because the last week included our tour around the Sea of Galilee region in the north of Israel. So over the next few weeks I will dedicate some entries to completing the task of "blogging Israel." If you are new to my blog, you can check out previous Israel trip entries via the topic labels to the right.

After a weekend in Jerusalem where we recuperated from our trip to the desert and Negev, took an exam, rested, did laundry, took in more of the Old City, and went to the Baptist House for church, it was time once again to hit the road. We were headed north for a five-day study of the northern part of Israel. This region included port cities on the Mediterranean, Mount Carmel (site of Elijah’s showdown with the prophets of Baal), the Jezreel Valley, Nazareth, and the Sea of Galilee region.

On our first day we spent a good bit of time in the port city of Caesarea on the Mediterranean Sea (this is not to be confused with Caesarea-Philippi). Caesarea was built from scratch in the time of King Herod the Great (just before Jesus was born), because Herod did not have an adequate port under his jurisdiction. Obviously, there are huge economic advantages to having such a port, so Herod’s men created one for him.

What I found interesting about Caesarea is the amount of New Testament history there. The photo that you see here is the theater at Caesarea. This is where public addresses and concerts took place (and still do!). In Acts 12:21, Herod Agrippa I (Herod the Great’s grandson) addressed a crowd at Caesarea, almost certainly here at the theater. Of course, the chairs and canopy on the floor have been added in more recent times. By the way, when we were on the stage looking out at the theater, I saw an Israeli worker and asked if he had a guitar I could borrow. I would love to have played a little at that location . . . my own “Live at Budokan” moment . . . “We love you, Caesarea!”

This picture shows a replica of an inscription found at Caesarea that mentions Pontius Pilate. It is a significant archaeological find, obviously, since it is an extra-biblical (outside of the Bible) reference to this historical figure. By the way, as is the case all over Israel, the real inscription is in a museum, and a replica is placed at the site of its discovery.

This is the hippodrome in Caesarea, where chariot races took place. It was amazing to see the entire arena pretty nearly intact after two thousand years. Chariot racing, according to our professor, was the “NASCAR of its day.”

You might recall that in the latter part of the book of Acts, Paul had unjustly been punished and appealed to have his case heard before Caesar in Rome. This picture shows the beautiful harbor of Caesarea on the Mediterranean. Paul appeared before the local leaders (Herod Agrippa II and Festus) at Caesarea, then departed for Rome from this location.

As was the case with most major cities, Caesarea was built with an extensive aqueduct system so that fresh water could be channeled to the city for use by the population. This picture shows me in front of one of these aqueducts, with the Mediterranean in the background. [By way of reminder, I got to swim in the Med one night during our trip to southern Israel, and it was soooooooooooooooo nice.]

In case you were wondering how aqueducts work, here is a picture of one lengthwise. The water runs through these tunnels atop the structure. We got to walk inside one of these. No water there, just a bunch of sand, but it was very cool to walk inside of a first century aqueduct.

After departing Ceasarea, we continued north and spent a little time at an observation post at Mount Carmel. This was the site of the dramatic showdown between Elijah and the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18 (If you haven’t read it for a while, I’d recommend it. It is not only dramatic but also very funny in parts.). In case you don’t recognize him, this picture is a statue of Elijah himself.

We came to the end of another long day of jaw-dropping experiences by checking into a monestary-hotel overlooking the port city of Haifa. This picture is from the front of the hotel, high above the city (notice how we were looking down on the tallest building). We were served a good dinner by the nuns there, and had a good night’s rest. We looked forward to yet another day of adventure, one that would take us to the town where Jesus grew up.

The Naked Blog Entry

2010-09-15T08:50:00.005-04:00

Over the past generation, I’ve noticed an increasing infatuation in our society with the word “naked,” and it has gotten worse over time. The Naked Gun. The Naked Chef. The re-released Beatles Album “Let it Be . . . Naked.” I remember an ad for a fitness company a few years back asking, “Do you want to look better naked?” Nickelodeon's teenage rock band "The Naked Brothers." Naked naked naked. I don’t remember the word being flung around so much when I was a kid. In fact, I think I was even reprimanded once for saying the word in an inappropriate setting.

Well, for me, the past few days have been the proverbial straw that has broken the camel’s back. After church on Sunday my family went to a restaurant where I encountered not one, not two, but three “nakeds” on the menu. There was “naked burritos.” There was “naked taco salads.” And then there was a beverage refrigerator labeled “Naked Juice.” Call me old-fashioned, call me a prude, but I’m just not very comfortable with the combination of “naked” and “food” in the same place, especially in a public restaurant.

Then, on Monday morning, I heard a D-J on the radio state that his nickname is “Naked.” Wow, how special is that? Of course, if you watched VH-1’s recent countdown show “50 Things That Guys Do That Make Them Undateable,” you’d immediately know where this guy falls.

But you might be saying to yourself, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dave. The word naked doesn’t just mean ‘without clothing.’ It can also mean emotionally exposed and vulnerable, or even plain, simple, and stripped of all pretense.” Okay, I realize that the definition of the word has several nuances. The re-released “Let it Be” album was stripped of all of its (originally unintended) studio overdubs. The “naked burrito” comes without some of its normal ingredients. But this doesn’t account for every instance. After all, do you really think the fitness company wants me to exercise (with their equipment) and eat right (according to their nutritional plan) so that I can look better when I am emotionally vulnerable, exposed, and stripped of all pretense? I’m going to say, “No.”

Actually, I think that there are two interrelated circumstances going on here that help to explain the expansion of naked in our collective vocabulary.

The first is the ultra-competitive marketing that takes place in our ultra-consumeristic society. There are tons of companies, organizations, and people out there that want your money, and they need to grab your attention in order for you to buy what they’re selling. Part of this process entails the use of provocative or “interesting” words in their advertising. The word naked naturally causes people to turn their heads, and once they’ve got your attention, they hope you will investigate further and eventually buy their product. Some of you might be reading this blog entry because you read my “ad” on Facebook, saw the word naked, and were intrigued enough to click on over here. Another good example of this phenomenon, by the way, is the word “extreme.” How many products can you name, right off the bat, that are “extreme” in some way? Like, for some reason, my shoelaces have worked fine my whole life, but now all of a sudden I need to go out and spend my hard-earned money on X-LACES—Extreme Shoelaces. What’s up with that?

The second, and as I said, interrelated idea, is that there seems to be a continual quest, mostly through advertising and media, to introduce and proliferate the next naughty word, or “forbidden” act, or “taboo” topic (usually sexual in nature) into our collective consciousness. Some of it is on trashy television talk shows. Some is slowly introduced over time via commercials, movies, and TV shows. I remember how a year or two ago I watched a movie from the 1980s that was rated “R.” I don’t even remember what movie it was, but I do remember thinking that that particular movie was not as bad (in terms of profanity and sexual content) as most PG-13 movies today. This is certainly not true across the board, but I think you get my point.

Now, I am not trying to claim too much about the wide use of the word naked. It is not signaling the impending apocalypse or anything like that. I would just point to it as one example of this need for some (advertising, media) to play to our more base emotions. And, I wouldn’t even say that I’m looking at the word naked as pornographic, per se, but rather as a provocative word that has a “naughty” connotation. Yes, I know it has other definitions, but I would submit that at least one large demographic in our society—I’ll call them “males”—almost immediately think of one, and only one, definition of the word.

So there you have it (dare I say it?)—the naked truth about yet another thing I think about on the way to work. And by the way, I ordered the chicken nachos and a soda. No naked food for me.

Duck, duck, goose

2010-07-23T08:05:00.002-04:00

I was reading recently of an American Christian who was on a mission trip in Africa. He particularly loved interacting with the children in the country he was in, and expressed his joy over being able to teach them some games. For instance, he and his cohorts taught the children how to play “Duck, duck, goose.” He recalled how the children were initially bewildered, though, because they did not know what a duck or a goose was. They had never seen such animals! So, the teachers had to change the names of the animals to ones familiar to the children. Then it made sense to them and they all proceeded to have fun. The American telling the story cited this as an example of the need to place things in their proper cultural context. In other words, when a missionary goes to another land to preach the gospel, not every “Americanism” will be understood, just as these children did not understand “Duck, duck, goose.”

It was at this point that I put my book down and began to think. Something dawned on me. I thought, “Wait a minute.” I’m an American, and I don’t even understand “Duck, duck, goose.” I’ve never actually seen a duck waddling around a circle of other ducks (and geese?), tapping each one on the head until he arrived at his “victim.” I’ve never seen one chasing another one around said circle. Heck, I’ve never even seen a duck chasing a goose, or a goose chasing a duck for that matter. Do they play together or even hang out together? I don’t know. In fact, I’m embarrassed to say that I’m not 100% sure of the difference between ducks and geese in the first place. Are they related somehow, in a hen/rooster kind of way? I don’t think so. I think I can tell them apart, but sometimes it’s kind of hard to differentiate them. There are a bunch of ducks that roam around my neighborhood all the time, but it wouldn’t shock me if someone told me that they were actually geese.

Well, I’m flummoxed. And what’s more, I’m humbled. I am quick to point out how kids today (i.e. my students over at the community college) don’t know a lot of “common knowledge” type questions, yet here I am struggling over ducks, geese, and a children’s game. I guess I’ll have to do a little research in my copious free time.

May 30th: Baptists? In Jerusalem?

2010-07-14T07:00:00.001-04:00

After four days in the desert and southern Israel, we came back to sunny, warm, non-humid Jerusalem for the weekend to rest, study, take our quiz, listen to lectures, prepare our maps for our next trip, do laundry, explore Jerusalem, shop, etc. On Sunday, a group of us went to church in Jerusalem. This was the longest trek that I took outside of the old city wall (our hotel was in the Christian Quarter inside the wall). I was surprised to find a Baptist church in the city of Jerusalem, and pleasantly surprised at the refreshing time of worship that we experienced there.

The first photo that you see is the sign outside the church, “Baptist House,” and the second photo is of the inside. The service was in English, as most of the people there were either American Christians visiting Israel, or American and European Jewish Christians who have moved to Jerusalem. For example, the pastor is a transplant from New Jersey, and I also spoke with an elderly Jewish woman from Connecticut who moved to Jerusalem with her husband in the early 1960s. Moreover, I met an elderly Jewish man who was originally from Germany, who as a boy escaped to England during the Holocaust.

The service itself was much like what one would expect and be comfortable with in a Baptist church in the states—singing, praying, preaching, and the like. There was about 150 in attendance. One interesting tradition at the Baptist House is that all visitors had to stand, one by one, and introduce themselves. It was fascinating to see and hear where everyone was from, and why they were in Israel. We had a group of students from Julliard in New York City; I suppose some of them may become well-known musicians someday.

As church services go, I thought the Baptist House was great. I sensed a real God-honoring atmosphere there, and it was very meaningful to me to be worshipping with so many people from so many different areas, generations, and backgrounds. The funny thing is, after the service I got to talking to a gentleman who recently came to Israel from the Philadelphia area to coach basketball. I grew up in the Philly area, so we struck up a fine conversation, and it was not long until we found out that he had been having prayer meetings at the high school where I attended, with my cross-country coach (a Christian man who is still coaching after all these years). So, it’s a big world, yet it’s a small world.

With all the talking I was doing, my group got tired of waiting and left to return to the hotel. So, I was on my own to get back to Old Jerusalem, which was about a twenty-minute walk. I leave you with a few pictures that I took on that walk. The first is the emblem of Jerusalem (a lion) that was on the side of a building.

The second is “The Holy Bagel Café,” a name that I thought humorous. I didn’t eat there, by the way, so I have no idea how righteous their bagels are.

And finally, many of the streets in Jerusalem are named after famous kings throughout history—King David, King George, etc. I had no idea that one of them was King Kong!

May 28th: The Dead Sea Scrolls

2010-07-12T06:00:00.005-04:00

At some time or another, most everyone has heard a reference to the Dead Sea Scrolls. I occasionally hear the scrolls mentioned when someone is trying to make a point about just how old a certain document is. However, I would guess that many people are not exactly clear as to what the Dead Sea Scrolls are, and more importantly, why they are significant.

The final stop on our four-day swing to southern Israel was the desert caves near the Dead Sea where the scrolls were found. The place of the discoveries is also known as Qumran. The first picture that you see is me crouching just inside “Cave 11,” where many of the scrolls were discovered. I would have gone further inside the cave, but I saw that there were many bats flying around deeper inside the cave, so I thought this would suffice. Getting to Cave 11 required a steep climb of a couple hundred feet. As the designation suggests, the Qumran caves are numbered.

The second picture that you see is “Cave 4,” again, a site where many scrolls have been found. The Dead Sea Scrolls were first discovered in the late 1940s. They are a treasure trove of ancient religious documents. Most importantly, the scrolls include ancient copies of the Old Testament Scriptures. In fact, with the exception of Esther, all or part of every Old Testament book has been found at Qumran. Isaiah has been found in its entirety. Moreover, these scriptural texts have been found in a few different ancient languages. These texts are the oldest known copies of the Old Testament, and they date to the first few centuries B.C.

The third picture that you see is a distant view of Cave 11, the same one where I posed in the first picture above. In addition to Scripture, other Qumran scrolls include extensive commentaries on the Scriptures, Apocryphal books (historical books not included in the Old Testament), and religious instructions. In total, roughly 900 scrolls have been discovered at the Qumran caves.

Who is responsible for this copious amount of ancient material? Well, there was a strict Jewish sect at the time known as the Essenes. The Essenes lived out in the desert, away from the hustle and bustle of Jerusalem and the rest of Israeli society. They believed that living separate from the world would allow them to stay better focused on keeping God’s law and staying away from the temptations of the world. The fourth picture is the remains of an Essene settlement right near Caves 4 and 11.

The last picture that you see is a replica of a scroll of a portion of Psalms discovered at Qumran. Seeing this replica, and being there at Qumran, reminded me of why the Dead Sea Scrolls are significant. You see, most evangelical Christians believe that the original writing of the Old Testament was completed in about 400 B.C. The translations we use in America today are taken from Hebrew texts dating to about 1000 A.D. In other words, we believe that the Old Testament was faithfully and accurately passed down for nearly 1400 years (without the aid of a printing press or copy machine)! But in the 1800s and early 1900s, many critics of the Bible claimed that the Old Testament was not reliable. How, they asked, could men possibly have accurately transcribed the Bible over such a long period of time? It’s equivalent to a millennium-and-a-half game of “whisper-down-the-lane,” and we all know how that game turns out.

However, the scriptural Dead Sea Scrolls, discovered in the mid-twentieth century, are nearly identical to the texts dated to 1000 A.D.! This provides strong evidence that the Old Testament really was faithfully and accurately passed down for all those many years. And most importantly, it means that the Bible that we use today is reliable. It’s not the byproduct of centuries of mistakes and embellishments by a myriad of unknown scribes, but rather, it can be trusted as the reliable Word of God.

May 27th: The Dead Sea

2010-07-07T06:48:00.009-04:00

No, this is not the long-anticipated “swimsuit issue” of my blog. It was during our four-day field trip to southern Israel (to include the desert) that we took a brief swimming stop at the Dead Sea. Now, as you might have heard before, the Dead Sea has a very high concentration of salt and mineral deposits. For this reason, a person will float in the Dead Sea. In the first picture, you see that I am floating. In fact, it was very comfortable. I wish that I had had a pillow, because if I had, I could easily have drifted off and taken a nap.

You will notice that I am wearing flip-flops in these pictures. This is because it is difficult to walk barefoot in the Dead Sea. The bottom is covered with at least several inches of what I call “salt cubes,” that is, small chunks of salt that vary in size from that of a sugar cube to about the size of a golf ball. I did not retrieve any of this salt to bring home. However, if you look at the second picture closely, you will notice that on the left hand side, one of the students in our group was collecting some of these salt cubes. He is holding a handful of them.

We went swimming in the Dead Sea for about an hour, which was a much-welcomed break from our days in the desert region. I believe it was later on this day that we asked our bus driver what the temperature was. He said he heard on the radio that it was forty-five. Doing the quick conversion from Celsius to Fahrenheit, I realized that it was 113 degrees!

Shortly after we hit the road from the Dead Sea, we stopped on the side of the road for a picture stop, where I took the last photo that you see. The natural structure that you see is a common sight along the mountains by the Dead Sea. The structure is known as “Mrs. Lot,” because it is formed from the salt-dense water and moisture of the area. The reference is to Lot’s wife, who in the book of Genesis was turned into a pillar of salt when she looked back at Sodom and Gomorrah during her family’s escape from the destruction of those cities. Scholars don’t know for sure if Lot’s wife turned into something that looks like one of these “Mrs. Lots,” but it is plausible. In fact, since I have been home from Israel, I was watching a History Channel show that claimed that she did in fact turn into a “Mrs. Lot” pillar like those near the Dead Sea.

May 26th (give or take): Plants and animals in Israel

2010-06-29T22:07:00.025-04:00

Some time about half way through my trip to Israel, I found myself becoming increasingly enthused about taking pictures of plant and animal life, especially those mentioned in the Bible. I think I caught the bug on or about May 26th, although the photos were taken throughout the entirety of my journey. So, what follows is a quick tour of some of the plants and animals of Israel. The first picture you see is a close-up of an olive tree. The olive tree is for all intents and purposes the national tree of Israel. They are everywhere (see my previous blog entry on the Garden of Gethsemane to see olive trees from a distance). Note on this photo, the leaves are oblong, whereas the olives are rounder.

We saw a group of camels one morning shortly after we hit the road. Our bus driver and professor were kind enough to allow us off the bus for a quick picture stop.

This is a picture of a fig tree in Jerusalem. I really like fresh figs, so, it was unfortunate for me that it was not fig season while I was there.

This is a bird called "tristram's grackel." It is a pretty, raven-like bird with brown wings (fully brown on the under side). Though not mentioned in the Bible, I was intrigued by these birds because we saw them all over the desert region.

"The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats" (Psalm 104:18). We saw several ibex, or wild goats, in the desret region, or wilderness, of southern Israel. By the way, one thing I learned on this trip is that when the Bible talks about the "wilderness," it is not talking about places like Tennessee and Kentucky back in the early 1800s where Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone hung out. The wilderness of Israel is a dry, pasty-white, hazy, barren land, as you can see in this picture. Experiencing this area gave me a better apprecitation for biblical accounts such as Jesus' fasting in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-2).

This tree is known as the Atad tree, and is mentioned in a parable in Judges 9:15 (called the "bramble" in some translations). The parable uses the analogy of different trees, and the point of the parable is that although Israel thought they wanted a king to rule over them, this was not the best for them. The parable relates how the olive tree, fig tree, and grape vine were too busy to be king, so the Atad offered its shady services. However, as we learned, the Atad is a deceptive tree. It offers much shade, but with its shallow roots, nothing will grow underneath it (as this picture shows). Get it? Israel wanted the "shade," or benefits, of having a king, but was doomed not to prosper in such as situation. God Himself was supposed to be their king.

We saw sheep throughout the country. These are in Nazareth, the town where Jesus grew up. Note that there are apparently two black sheep in this family.

This is a carob tree. You might recognize carob as a chocoloate substitute. In the middle east, the carob pod is used to feed pigs. It is the carob tree that is referenced in Luke 15:16 in the parable of the Prodigal Son. After the son had squandered his inheritance, he "longed to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate."

This is a papyrus plant, important in ancient times because it was used to make paper.

"Coneys are creatures of little power, yet they make their homes in the crags" (Proverbs 30:26). One day while milling about at a biblical site, I turned a corner and found myself being stared down by a mother coney (like a large badger) at a distance of about twenty feet. She had four babies behind her. After the initial stare, she went back to her business, so I quietly proceeded to sit down and experiment with the zoom feature on my new camera. They were very interesting looking, and very cute little creatures. I felt fortunate to have had this encounter, because our professor had told us that we probably were not going to see any coneys on the trip.

Close-up of a few of the baby coneys.

This is a picture of an Acacia tree. They are very pretty. Joshua 2:1 says that Joshua sent two spies out from a place called Shittim to investigate Jericho. Now, I remember as a child everybody snickering at that word since it sounds like a bad word in English. However, "Shittim" is the plural for "Acacia tree" in Hebrew. I've noticed some translations now say that Joshua sent the spies to Jericho from "Acacia Grove."

"Even the stork in the sky knows its appointed seasons" (Jeremiah 8:7). It was difficult to get a good photo of a stork. This is my best one. The stork here is on the banks of the Jordan River.

"Bulls of Bashan" are mentioned in the Bible (see Psalm 22:12 and Amos 4:1, for example). We rode through the area of Bashan in northern Israel, and sure enough, there were cows and bulls seemingly every one hundred yards.

May 25th: Climb every mountain

2010-06-27T22:39:00.011-04:00

The brochure for my trip to Israel stated that students must be in good shape because there would be a lot of walking during the course. So, I was prepared to do a lot of walking. What surprised me was the almost constant uphill and downhill walking in Israel. Even the “plateau” regions had hills, just less of them. Throughout the country, many hills were quite steep. I am in better-than-average physical condition, and there were a handful of occasions when I “felt the burn” in my legs or felt my heart pounding after a quick, steep climb.

On May 25th, our group set out for a four-day field trip to the biblical territory of Judah. In modern parlance, this means southern Israel, which includes the Negev and the wilderness (desert). As you might guess, our first stop was a steep mountain fortress called the Herodium. As the name suggests, the Herodium was a part-time defense fortress, part-time luxurious getaway for King Herod the Great, who ruled in Israel from about 37 BC to 4 BC. (He is the Herod that is mentioned in the Bible around the time of Jesus’ birth.) The Herodium is located about seven and a half miles from Jerusalem on the route out to the desert. It served as a refuge in case Herod ever had to “get out of town” quickly, but also had a large pool for his vacations. Historical records indicate that Herod the Great wanted to be buried at the Herodium. And sure enough, more recently (i.e. in the last century or two) the burial site of Herod has been discovered there.

The first picture above is the Herodium from a distance (and, you can see part of the pool at the bottom of the hill, in the foreground). Yes, we walked to the very top, although the bus dropped us off about half-way up. Still, it was a steep climb. The second photo is me at the top of the fortress. You can see how high it is by looking at the landscape and mountains in the background. The third photo shows you the Roman remains at the top of the fortress. The remains include living and storage spaces for troops.

We visited two of Herod’s fortresses in all (we went to Masada a few days later), and one of the challenges at both was the realization that once you got to the top, your walking was not done. You see, in order to get from one part of the fortress to another, you often have to walk up and down steep stairways on the sides of the mountain. The fourth photo depicts an example of this. In order to get to Herod’s burial site, we had to descend approximately 150-200 steep stairs. The fifth photo is Herod’s burial site. After seeing the burial site, it was time to once again climb back up to the top. Such mini-excursions were always tiring, but always worth it.

One thing that came across loud and clear on this trip was that Herod the Great was a prolific builder. He orchestrated a major renovation of the Jerusalem Temple, built the port city of Caesarea, and constructed several impressive forts, such as the Herodium and Masada. He was a tyrannical, paranoid, vindictive, yet “larger than life” kind of leader. In fact, he was dubbed “King of the Jews” (ruler over Israel, though he himself was not Jewish). What’s more, his rule was under one of the most prolific emperors in the history of the Roman Empire, Caesar Augustus. Isn’t it interesting that at the height of Caesar Augustus’ power, he decreed that a census be taken in the Roman Empire—a census that required a Jewish man named Joseph to travel with his pregnant fiancé to a town called Bethlehem, where, of course, the real King of the Jews was born?

May 22nd: The conquest

2010-06-20T16:35:00.007-04:00

Imagine the difficulties involved if you were required to haul yourself and everything you own up a 4,000 foot mountain. Imagine further that the mountain was laden with large rocks, making passage extremely difficult. And let’s add in that the outside temperature during your trek is anywhere from the mid-90s up to about 110 or so. Oh, and one more thing. Imagine that there are cities of people at the top of this mountain that want to kill you.

If all that is hard enough to fathom, then think what it would be like if an entire nation of about two million people had to make such a journey. It would be pretty amazing, wouldn’t it? Well, this is exactly how the Bible describes the beginning of the Israelite conquest of the Promised Land during the time of Joshua. After the death of Moses, Joshua led the nation across the Jordan River and proceeded to attack and conquer the nearby city of Jericho . . . well, he had the Israelites march around the city seven times--you remember the story. The next target of the Israelites was the city of Ai, which was several miles inland. Ai was also about a 4,000 foot climb from Jericho, up very rugged, rocky mountains.

You might recall that the Israelites were initially unsuccessful in taking the city of Ai. Their warriors were chased out of the city, and many were killed on the jagged rocks during their hurried descent. But eventually the Israelites took the city, and over time the Israelites made the climb and occupied Ai and other conquered cities. How many Israelites were there at the time? Well, the book of Numbers records that prior to the conquest, there was around 600,000 men in Israel. Most scholars reckon that there were about two million Israelites when one accounts for women and children as well.

On May 22nd, our group took our first field trip outside of Jerusalem. We began the day in the city of Jericho (see “welcome sign,” first photo). Jericho is one of two places that we went that is in Palestinian-controlled territory (Bethlehem was the other), which means that we had to pass through a check point and provide our passports in order to access the areas. The Palestinian areas were much different in look and feel from Israel. For the most part, they were poorer, and more run down. My guess is that the average westerner would feel much less secure in these places.

Nevertheless, we had no problems in Jericho. The second photo that you see is of the modern city of Jericho. What is noteworthy about this photo are the mountains in the background, which surround the city from the northwest counterclockwise to the southwest (the Jordan River is to the east). Of course, the main site in Jericho is the excavation of the Canaanite city that was attacked and destroyed by Joshua. The third photo that you see is the excavation site. In the foreground is some of the remains of one of the lower city walls (after it crumbled, of course). It the middle ground, you may be able to detect the remains of one of the higher city walls (ancient near east cities were often on hills or mounds, with concentric walls to ensure adequate defense).

After touring Jericho, we took a bus ride up the 4,000 foot mountains to an observation post close to the biblical city of Ai. The fourth photo is me at the observation post. In the background are the rock-laden mountains leading back toward Jericho.

As I took the bus ride and then looked out over the observation post, a few thoughts came to my mind. First, I could see the truth in passages like Joshua 7:3-5, which states that Joshua’s spies initially recommended that only a few men go up to take Ai, so as not to wear out all the troops. I can certainly see why such a campaign would have tired even the most rugged of troops. This passage also describes how this first group was repelled from Ai and chased back down the rocky terrain. I can imagine how frightening it must have been to be running for your life down a steep mountain with large jagged rocks everywhere.

The second thought I had was how difficult it must have been to get two million people, give or take, with all of their livestock and other belongings, up the 4,000 foot climb. The logistics and plan of movement would have to have been quite elaborate. And it must have taken a long time. I can understand why it would have taken not only years, but generations, for the Israelites to occupy the Promised Land.

One last thought. When I looked out to the west from Jericho to the great swath of high, dry mountains, I thought, “I can see how the Israelites might have been very discouraged after entering the Promised Land to see the awesome task before them.” But then I remembered that God had given them enough information about the land to allow them to walk in faith. Specifically, Moses had previously sent spies into the land, and two faithful spies—Joshua and Caleb—had returned to tell not only of the “milk and honey” that flowed there, but that with God’s help, they could surely conquer the land.

Our study of the path of the conquest took about half the day, so in the afternoon we visited three or four other biblical sites. But the Jericho-to-Ai portion of the field trip once again reminded me of the saying that kept coming up over and over on this trip: The Bible brings the land to life, and the land brings the Bible to life.

May 21st: And you thought Baptists and Methodists were so different

2010-06-18T06:38:00.012-04:00

One of the realities about a place with the historical significance of Israel is that competing traditions sometimes crop up. For instance, there are two locations that claim to be the site of Calvary and Jesus’ tomb (the cross and tomb are regarded as having been close to one another). One of these sites is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the other is the Garden Tomb (also called Gordon’s tomb, named after a popular nineteenth century British army officer). Our group visited both sites.

Such competing claims leave the historian and biblical scholar with the task of sorting out which claim is most valid. The task is somewhat similar to that of a military intelligence specialist or a television meteorologist. That is, one has to make assessments based on a combination of known data and educated conjecture. In the case of assessing the validity of historical sites in Israel, our professor used the rough categories of “certain,” “probable,” “possible,” and “ridiculous.”

Biblical scholars generally agree that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the probable location of Calvary and Jesus’ tomb, largely because of the ancient origins of the claim and because the location fairly accurately matches the biblical description of the location. On the other hand, the Garden Tomb falls into the category of ridiculous, as that tomb was clearly used in the Old Testament era (the Bible says that Jesus was buried in a new tomb, see Matt. 27:60 and Luke 23:53).

I took the photos that you see on May 21st during our trip to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The first is the outside of the church. The second is the area (protected by glass) of the location of the foot of the cross. The third and fourth photos are upstairs from there, and mark the location of the top of the cross.

“Denominationally” speaking, the church is Greek orthodox, and as such, it is very ornate. There are intricate mosaics, paintings, and decorations all over the church. For those who have never been in an eastern orthodox church, they are very different in look and feel from the average Protestant church in America. In fact, when I entered the church, I turned to a fellow student and said, “And you thought Baptists and Methodists were different.” (By contrast, the Garden Tomb, though not the real location of the cross and tomb, is located in a quasi-park, in what I would call a much more “Baptist-friendly” atmosphere.)

While in the church, our group took a few minutes to find a quiet corner and read some Scripture. It was here that I experienced one of the most meaningful privileges of my entire trip. I got to read Psalm 22 aloud to our group. This is the Psalm that begins, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Most people recognize this as the words that Jesus spoke while He was being crucified. Many don’t realize, however, that Jesus was actually quoting Scripture from the cross.

The thing that amazes me about Psalm 22 is that it was written about a thousand years before Jesus was born, yet the first verse is not the only glimpse (prophecy) of things to come. Consider briefly the following verses from Psalm 22:

“All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads: "He trusts in the Lord; let the Lord rescue him.” (vv. 7-8a)

“I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within me. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death.” (vv. 14-15)

“They divide my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing.” (v. 18)

These are just a few examples, but if you read Psalm 22 in its entirety, you will see the depiction of a man who suffers rejection, pain, and death, but is rescued by God and subsequently causes the nations to turn to the Lord. Sounds a lot like the gospel, doesn’t it? This has long been a very meaningful chapter of Scripture for me, and it was an incredible honor and privilege to be able to read these weighty words aloud in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

May 20th: The Garden

2010-06-15T21:10:00.012-04:00

The reason that I took this trip to Israel was to learn more about the geography, history, climate, and culture of the country so that I can better understand and teach the Bible. Although I had a lot of fun, the trip was a Master’s level course, complete with lectures, quizzes, and a final exam. I made it a point not to go there for an emotional or spiritual “high” or “mountaintop experience”—this was not high school church summer camp. Nevertheless, there were a few stops that did trigger an emotional response in me, and one of them was the Garden of Gethsemane.

The Garden of Gethsemane is located just to the east of the Jerusalem wall, meaning that in Jesus’ day, it was outside of the city. It sits near the base of the Mount of Olives, which is separated from Jerusalem by the Kidron Valley. (Incidentally, learning about places like the Kidron Valley was very informative to me, since I had read the name many times in the Bible, yet never really had a good feel for where it is.)

Anyway, the Garden of Gethsemane is regarded as a place where Jesus often brought his disciples to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, to rest, and to teach them. Some speculate that it is a place where Jesus may have slept while staying in Jerusalem. Also, when Judas betrayed Jesus, it appears that he had little trouble determining where Jesus would be. The garden was known to them all.

I took the photos that you see on May 20th, during our trip to the Mount of Olives and the garden. The first is me at the top of the Mount of Olives with Jerusalem in the background. The second picture is one side of the garden, with olive trees dispersed all about, and not much else. The atmosphere here is quiet and serene. However, the third photo depicts more colorful flowers on the other side of the garden, which is also the location of a church. The church is called The Church of the Nations, and it is characterized by much more noise and activity (tourists in and out of the church all day), as well as the more “aesthetically pleasing” flowers. The final photo is a road sign to the Mount of Olives. Note that signs are presented in Hebrew, Arabic, and English.

While at the Garden of Gethsemane, our group found a corner of the quiet, serene side to read some Scripture and ponder what Jesus was going through on that fateful night. It was at this point that something struck me—something I never would have noticed unless I was standing right there. Take a good look again at the second picture above. In the background you can see a wall. That wall is the east wall of the Jerusalem Temple, and just behind that wall was the Holy of Holies. The irony hit me like a ton of bricks. Here you had Jesus—God in the flesh—already enduring agony and rejection in the Garden of Gethsemane, within clear sight of the place where God Himself made His dwelling (the Holy of Holies of the Temple). I can only imagine that the psychological effect of this only added to the suffering that our Savior was enduring in those moments. I imagine that the psychological suffering is similar to that of an Alcatraz prisoner, holed up and hopeless on a bay island, with the vibrant life of San Francisco in full view every day.

One of the enduring lessons I take from the events of the Garden of Gethsemane is that Jesus actually prayed that the cup, i.e. the suffering that was to come, would be lifted from Him. But Jesus was careful to add, “nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matt. 26:39). I try to keep this in mind with every prayer request I make. God desires us to bring our petitions to Him in prayer, but we also must be willing ultimately to submit to His will, regardless of our desires.

May 18th: The tunnel

2010-06-13T15:12:00.019-04:00

Since I have been home from Israel, a friend asked me, “I know it must be hard, but, what is the one thing that you liked the best in Israel?” I responded that I had actually already given that question some thought, and I had come to the conclusion that I was finding it difficult to decide what my favorite thing was on each day, let alone for the whole trip. It was all so fascinating, so awe-inspiring. Nevertheless, on May 18th, I think I would have to go with Hezekiah’s tunnel.

In about 701 B.C., the Assyrians were about to overrun the country of Judah (the Jewish nation whose kings were in the direct line of descent from David and Solomon). As the Assyrians were poised to besiege the capital city of Jerusalem, King Hezekiah of Judah got his men to work on a vitally important project. You see, the water supply for the inhabitants of Jerusalem was located outside of the city wall, and was thus vulnerable to seizure by the Assyrian army. Hezekiah had his men build an underground tunnel that would allow the water to flow into the city. That way, the residents of Jerusalem could use the water, and access to it would be denied to the invading Assyrians.

This tunnel is mentioned in 2 Kings 20:20, which says, “As for the other events of Hezekiah's reign, all his achievements and how he made the pool and the tunnel by which he brought water into the city, are they not written in the book of the annals of the kings of Judah?” In addition, an inscription was discovered in the tunnel during the nineteenth century (known as the Shiloah inscription), around the time when several excavations were going on in the vicinity. The inscription describes the work that was done by Hezekiah’s men, and it is considered a very valuable archaeological find because it is an excellent example of the type of Hebrew used in those days.

As part of our itinerary, we had the opportunity to traverse Hezekiah’s tunnel. After strenuous, and I mean strenuous, warnings that those who are claustrophobic should not enter, we proceeded down a series of steps, ending about a few hundred feet underground. Then it was into the tunnel. The tunnel was about one thousand yards long, and only a few feet wide. As you can see by the photo of myself above, my shoulders and backpack were scraping the sides of the tunnel the whole way. In fact, there were a few brief portions where I had to turn my body sideways to squeeze through. The height of the tunnel ranged from ten feet down to about four or five feet for stretches, so I did a lot of squatting and crouching. Oh, and I almost forgot . . . there is still water running through the tunnel. For the most part, the water was about ankle high, but there was a brief stretch where it was knee deep (see photo below where person is walking in front of me in the distance).

It took thirty-five minutes to make it through the entire tunnel. At the end was the site where the inscription was found. As is the case with most important inscriptions found in Israel, the original is now in a museum (a replica is at the site). The below photo was at the place where the inscription was found. The tunnel is too narrow to get a frontal photo, so as you can see, I had to take the shot from an angle.

After traversing the tunnel, I was more tired than I expected, yet I had a feeling of indescribable satisfaction. It was hard work to make it through the tunnel. I had worked up a sweat, yet also felt somewhat cool from wading in water. But most of all I was just awestruck. Here I was, on the other side of the world from my home, and worlds away from my desk job, having completed an incredible journey through a 2700-year old tunnel that is mentioned in God’s Word. I couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to get to do this. The entire biblical account of the Assyrian invasion of Judah and Hezekiah’s defense had come alive to me in a way I never dreamed possible.

May 17th: Khamsin

2010-06-11T11:10:00.004-04:00

At about noon local time on Monday, May 17th, I stepped off of a plane in Tel Aviv after an eleven hour flight from Newark. Though tired, I was excited to have landed safely and to finally be in Israel. I had first heard about this trip last September from my Old Testament professor at seminary (who was also on the trip). But it wasn’t until a full three seconds later that I decided for sure that I was going to go on this trip . . . and that’s the truth. So I had been very excited for quite some time.

After we made our way through security and got our luggage, we stepped outside to board the bus for Jerusalem. And it was there that I got my first taste of Israel. My first impression? Hot! And I mean beastly hot! As excited as I was, I sheepishly admitted to myself that I didn’t know if I could make it for three weeks in this kind of heat.

Well, once we got on the bus (chartered type with microphone in the front and air conditioning throughout), our new professor introduced herself and began to explain the itinerary, etc. And, it did not take long for her to address the hot weather. What we were experiencing, she said, was a condition known as Khamsin. It is pronounced “COMM-SEEN,” or if you want to practice your Hebrew gutturals, you can pronounce the “Kh” with that well-known sound produced when you try to bring up mucous from your throat. It’s up to you.

Khamsin is a condition that occurs in Israel from about mid-April to the end of May, where hot winds blow in from the deserts of Egypt and the Sinai Peninsula. It causes very uncomfortable conditions for people, and the winds will actually scorch the plants on the ground (see photo I took of a field of dried wheat). [I know, I know, you were expecting pictures with a little more zing than that . . . I promise I’ll have plenty more “interesting” photos as I continue my trip diary.] For people who have lived in Southern California, Khamsin is similar to the Santa Ana conditions, where the winds will come in from the California desert instead of the Pacific, causing uncomfortable heat for a few days.

Now, fortunately for us, the Khamsin ended after that first day, and the weather in Jerusalem was beautiful. It was warm and sunny with low humidity during the days, and the nights were comfortably cool with nice breezes. Again, it reminded me a lot of the typical weather in Southern California. Of course, when we ventured out on field trips to the desert and other areas, we experienced very hot conditions, but overall, hot weather in no way put a damper on my trip.

So, you might be wondering, who cares? Why am I telling you about Khamsin? Well, I bring it up because it illustrates something that I learned over and over again on this trip. That is, in terms of geography, climate, plant and animal life, etc., the land of Israel provides a clarity that I normally miss by reading the Bible in the confines of my own culture. Luke 12:54-56 says this:

54 He [Jesus] also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, ‘A shower is coming.’ And so it happens.

55 And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,’ and it happens.

56 You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”

What is this “south wind” that brings “scorching heat” that is mentioned in verse 55? It is the Khamsin! This is a passage of the Bible that I have read many times, and in my mind I read it “south wind blah blah blah, scorching heat blah blah.” I never paid attention to what these things actually refer to. Here Jesus was using a well-known weather phenomenon to make a point.

This little Khamsin snippet also got me to thinking of all the “signs” that we can recognize. We know that a red sky at night means good weather. We know that when Blockbuster is packed, there must be a snowstorm in the forecast. Heck, I’ve watched so many sporting events in my life that I can tell when a team is so demoralized that they will not be making a big comeback. We know how to read signs, make proper judgments about them, and live our lives accordingly. For me, then, learning about and experiencing Khamsin has, in a small way, caused me to evaluate how I am living my life . . . Do I understand properly the “signs” of the current state of the world? What about the “signs” (teachings) that are given to me through the Bible? And am I orienting my life appropriately in a God-centered way?

One phrase that kept coming up during my time in Israel was, “The Bible brings the land to life, and the land brings the Bible to life.” As you might guess, I found this old saying to be very true, and Khamsin was just one small example of this.

Was it all just a dream?

2010-06-09T04:00:00.003-04:00

This past Monday—June 7th—at 9:00 A.M., I was seated in an auditorium at a conference in Virginia Beach. I have been to work-related meetings like this a hundred times before, dutifully dressed in my slacks, button-down shirt, and tie. I was taking notes and listening attentively. But at about nine o’clock, one hour into the conference, my mind began to wander, and I asked myself, “Was it all just a dream?”

You see, just thirty-six hours before, on Saturday night, I stood on the roof of the Gloria Hotel in Old Jerusalem, just inside the city wall, taking the picture of the Tower of David that you see above.

On Saturday night, I was completing a three-week study trip in Israel. I took a course entitled “Historical Geography of the Bible” through the University of the Holy Land in Jerusalem. And, I’m having a hard time finding the right superlatives to describe the trip, which covered just about every square mile of the country of Israel. To say it was informative does not even scratch the surface in relation to what I learned. To say it was exhilarating doesn’t do it justice. To say it was fascinating or unbelievable or incredible . . . these adjectives don’t provide the needed depth of expression.

While in Israel, I walked around the top of the wall in Jerusalem. I crouched and waddled through an Old Testament era, one-thousand yard, underground water tunnel, with water ranging from ankle high to knee deep. I read Psalm 22 aloud inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the probable location of Jesus’ death on the cross (that’s the Psalm that begins, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"). I swam in the Mediterranean Sea. I floated in the Dead Sea. I took a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus walked on the water. I stood on the steps of the Temple, the same exact steps where my Savior walked about two-thousand years ago. And I snooped around in a desert cave where some of the Dead Sea Scrolls were found—a cool respite during days of steep climbs in 110+ degree heat. But all of this is just a sliver of the entirety of my Israel experience between May 17th and June 5th.

So, if I had to give one word now that comes to my mind regarding the trip, I think it would be privilege. It was a real privilege to go on this trip, to receive teaching from a renowned expert in the field of biblical geography, to see the sites that I saw, and to do the things I was able to do. Most people don’t get the chance to do what I did. Going to Israel in no way makes me a better Christian than any other believer, but I do feel that I learned things that will allow me to teach the Bible better for the rest of my life. It truly was a privilege.

But all good things must come to an end, I suppose—at least down here on earth. Sunday morning I boarded a plane in Tel Aviv, and a seeming eternity later, I landed at Raleigh-Durham airport at 10 P.M. Barbara drove me back to Chesapeake. We arrived at two in the morning and I got to sleep at three. Then it was up at six, and back to the standard work routine. I couldn’t afford to take another day off from work after I had so generously been allowed to take three weeks of vacation time for this trip. So you probably can understand that on Monday morning, after the whirlwind, I would find myself thinking, “Wait, did that really happen, or was it all just a dream?”

In the next couple of weeks, I will be writing a number of blog entries with some reflections (and photos) from my Israel trip. I hope you enjoy them.

Pet peeve #83: “It ain’t braggin’ if you can do it”

2010-05-17T04:00:00.002-04:00

Here’s one that’s been a pet peeve of mine for a long time. I’m sure you’ve been in a situation where someone is talking to you, or to a group, and is engaged in self-adulation of some sort. And then, perhaps he catches a disapproving eye, or merely wants to maintain the appearance of modesty, and says, “Hey, it ain’t braggin’ if you can do it!” or “It ain’t braggin’ if you can back it up!” or some such.

For a long time, I thought nothing of this little phrase. But at some point, I began to break it down and ponder it. Then, after a while, I began a mental protest against it. And now, when I hear it said, it usually takes every ounce of my being to hold my tongue, for I want to scream out, “Yes it is bragging! In fact, that’s exactly what the definition of ‘bragging’ is! It’s when you do something, have something, etc., and then talk about it in an effort to aggrandize yourself.”

This is in contradistinction to three other possible situations:

1) If you do something, or have something, yet choose not to boast about it, it’s called humility.

2) If you boast about something, and can’t back it up, it’s called lying.

3) But, perhaps a person sincerely needs to point out some great accomplishment, as a matter of fact, with no intention of bragging. That could happen. But in my experience, people in this situation don’t say, “Hey, it ain’t braggin’ if you can do it.” They tend to stutter, in an awkward and humble way, something like, “I don’t mean to say this to brag, I’m just pointing out what happened . . .” And this kind of gets to the crux of the matter. Most of the time, people use the “It ain’t braggin’” line to cover up the fact that they are indeed bragging. It’s like if I finished my fifth piece of cheesecake for dessert and I looked around the table and said, “Hey, it ain’t being a pig if you can eat it all.”

If you consider what I have said here, and agree with my sentiments, perhaps you would consider joining me in a grass roots movement to rid the world of this silly saying. I propose that whenever we hear someone say “It ain’t braggin’ if you can do it,” we stand up and loudly declare, “Yes, it is bragging. You are mistaken”—whether we are in line at the supermarket, at church, or in the stands at the baseball game.

What do you say? Will you join me?

Stupid song lyrics: Rogue theology in pop music

2010-05-12T08:54:00.004-04:00

Whereas, it is the second Wednesday of the month, AND,

Whereas, I have listened to a lot of music in my life, AND,

Being that I now write a blog,

BE IT RESOLVED THAT,

On this Twelfth day of May, Two Thousand Ten,

I will now give you another installment of STUPID SONG LYRICS.

1. On the drive home from work a few weeks ago, I heard a countdown of the top five songs from April, 1985. Of course you remember the monster hit “We Are the World,” written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, and performed by a host of well-known American singers (and I use that term loosely with regard to Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen). Here is a verse from the song:

Send them your heart,
So they'll know that someone cares,
And their lives will be stronger and free.
As God has shown us, by turning stone to bread,
So we all must lend a helping hand.

As I heard this, I thought, “Whoa, hold on. When exactly did God turn stone to bread?” I remember that in Moses’ day, God caused a stone to produce water for the Israelites in the desert. And later, in the New Testament, when Jesus was being tempted in the wilderness, Satan challenged Him to turn a stone into bread, but Jesus refused (Matthew 4:3-4). But unless I am sadly mistaken, there is no biblical account of God turning stone to bread. Of course, to be fair, Jackson and Richie don’t claim that God showed us this in the Bible. Perhaps this event happened in the Himalayan Mountains in the 14th century, and has been revealed only to the song’s writers. But I doubt it.

Anyway, this episode got me to thinking of other unbiblical, theologically deviant, or erstwhile unholy verbiage that has made its way into popular music. Such as . . .

2. In 1991, Sting scored a hit with “All This Time,” a catchy tune with the following lines:

Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the earth,
Better to be poor than a fat man in the eye of a needle.

Sting, Sting, Sting. First of all, it’s the meek who shall inherit the earth, not the poor (see Matthew 5:5). Regarding the poor (or “poor in spirit”), “theirs will be the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew 5:3, Luke 6:20). What I find disappointing about Sting’s Beatitudinal confusion is that several years before this, while with the Police, he performed a song called “Walking in Your Footsteps” (the album was Synchronicity, released in 1983), in which he got it right when he sang, “They say the meek shall inherit the earth.” Just goes to show you, you gotta keep up with studying the Bible and learning good theology or you’ll forget it.

Second, Matthew 19:24 says that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. Just my opinion, but I think it would be better to say “Better to be poor than a rich man in the eye of a needle,” but perhaps I’m splitting camel’s hairs.

3. Billy Joel’s River of Dreams:

I don’t know about a life after this,
God knows I’ve never been a spiritual man.
Baptized by fire, I wade
into the river that is running through the promised land.

You’ve never been a spiritual man? Not exactly a news flash. We all sort of knew that after “Only the Good Die Young” came out back in 1977. All I’ll say here is, if you’re aware that a river is running through the promised land, why would you be wading and not swimming with all your might to get there?

4. In the 80s, the Philadelphia-based band The Hooters scored a hit with the song “All You Zombies,” which said,

Only Noah saw it coming,
Forty days and forty nights.
Took his sons and daughters with him,
Yeah, they were the Israelites.

Well, to be exact, Noah took three sons (Shem, Ham, and Japheth) and three daughters-in-law on the ark with him (along with his own wife, for a total of eight human passengers), but that is a minor lyrical quibble. More to the point, his sons and daughters-in-law were not Israelites, because the nation of Israel was not founded for at least a few hundred years after the flood. However, it would be accurate to say that Noah and his sons were the direct ancestors of the Israelites, since Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Israel) came from the direct line of Noah. I’m sure, like me, you often find yourself hashing through Old Testament history while listening to the radio on the way to work . . . What? You don’t?

5. Finally, most people have heard the Byrd’s hit from 1966, “Turn! Turn! Turn!” It is a near verbatim recitation of Ecclesiastes 3, “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” That is, until the last line of the song, which states,

A time for love, a time for hate,
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.

This last line is not in Ecclesiastes. Earlier in the song, they sing about “a time for war,” “a time to gather stones,” and “a time to kill,” which all appear in the biblical passage. The last sentence is in line with the prevailing sentiment in popular culture of the 60s emphasizing peace, protest against the Vietnam War and war in general, etc. I’m not saying this line is bad or wrong in and of itself. It’s just not in the Bible, and that can be confusing given that the rest of the song is. Lyrics like this remind me to be careful—what may sound biblical, true, or theologically correct in popular music sometimes is not.

Spring semester follies

2010-05-10T07:57:00.003-04:00

Well, last week I ended yet another semester teaching American history at the local community college. It is an intro course that covers America from its beginning to 1877 (the Reconstruction era).

As I did after the fall semester, I have put together some of the more “interesting” answers from essay and test questions from the spring semester. I’ll throw in one caveat by saying that although this is an opportunity for a good-natured chuckle or two, these students (for the most part) are good kids who are doing their best to learn a ton of material in just a few short months.

The students’ responses are in italics, with my accompanying commentary for each. Again, these are direct quotes. Enjoy.

1. “It was following the defeat at Bull Run that Lincoln selected General George McClellan to take charge of the Union forces at Washington. McClellan was a large man, and some believed he was well over two hundred plus pounds. McClellan was fierce and tough. Powerful was another word used to describe him in some circles.”

You know, when I think of George McClellan, I think fierce. I think tough. I think powerful. And, I think perhaps a bit paunchy.

2. “Good ole Britain, the sore loser that she was, provoked action from America again in 1812.”

Yep, that’s good ole Britain for ya. Bunch of sore losers.

3. “Dividing the country in half making one side pro-slave and the other anti-slave was not the smartest move.”

A classic understatement if there ever was one—this was DEFINITELY not the smartest of moves. It ranks right up there with Stalin’s forced collectivization and me trying to “explain” things to the cashier at McDonalds. All bad ideas.

4. “The idea of Manifest Destiny was compared to a new hit record. It was the thing of that time. People picked up and started west. It was like a no brainer . . . all the way to California, Oregon, present day Washington, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, people were all about it.”

One thing I know—Americans back then were diggin’ the westward expansion, that’s fo’ shizzle.

5. “George Washington, who was very popular, was twice elected president anonymously.”

In other words, he got all the votes, we just don’t know who cast them.

6. Here are a few direct quotes from a student who will not win the National Spelling Bee, ever.

“The Luesyana perches was also made by Presadent Jafferson . . . the Luesana Taratory nerly dobled the size of the U.S.”

“cotten was a vary labor intence plant to perduce.”

7. And last but not least, this is an excerpt from an essay question, “Evaluate the role that Boston played in the period 1765-1775 in bringing the colonies closer to war with England.” Any resemblance between this answer and actual American history is purely coincidental.

“Searching for a way to create a war with England, they [Bostonians] threw a tea party in which only Bostonians were invited. England got word of this and decided that when the Bostonians were good and drunk they would declare war. This created a massive protest and England decided that since tea was Boston’s main source of demand that they would go in and take all of the trunks of tea and dump them in the river. Bostonians sensed that something was wrong and they looked for their tea only to find none. They then looked in the river and saw that the water was brown. This gave them the notion that the British had come and destroyed their tea.”

National Day of Prayer, 1776 style

2010-05-06T09:10:00.008-04:00

Does prayer work?

On this National Day of Prayer in the United States, I think this is a very important and legitimate question to ponder. Because, if prayer works, we should not only be praying today, but every day. And not just “praying,” but PRAYING—on our knees, with enthusiasm, and with a sense of sincere humility and bold expectation. But if prayer doesn’t work, well, quite frankly, why bother? We all might as well go do something more productive.

It probably comes as no surprise to you to know that I think that prayer works. But let me explain this a little further. I believe that prayer works in two ways.

First, when we think of prayer “working,” we often think of God answering our requests in some miraculous way, such as a friend being healed from cancer. Requests like this are often, whether we say it this way or not, couched as desiring God to change His mind, or to change the course of current events. And this sort of answer to prayer does happen, both in biblical times and today.

But equally, if not more important, is the fact that prayer ought to change us. Prayer isn’t just our magic genie in a bottle, used to ask God for a new house, a new pool, or even the healing of a loved one. Rather, it is a mechanism by which we learn to submit to God’s authority over us, to humble ourselves, to realize our sinfulness, to beseech His forgiveness, and to set our minds on appropriate desires. As Jesus said as He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to His crucifixion, “Not my will, but yours.”

On this National Day of Prayer, 2010, I’d like to share an example from our history that I believe reveals both aspects of prayer described above.

In March of 1776, the Second Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia, was getting nervous. They faced one of those “what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into” moments. Many were realizing that there was no turning back in our rebellion against England. Blood had already been shed at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill. And many were saying it was time to declare our independence—a bold step that would no doubt invite significant British retaliation.

So on March 16, the Congress announced a National Day of Prayer. Here is an excerpt from the declaration:

The Congress therefore, considering the warlike preparations of the British Ministry to subvert our invaluable rights and privileges, and to reduce us by fire and sword, by the savages of the wilderness and our own domestics, to the most abject and ignominious bondage: Desirous, at the same time, to have people of all ranks and degrees, duly impressed with a solemn sense of God’s superintending providence, and of their duty devoutly to rely in all their lawful enterprises of his aid and direction–do earnestly recommend, that Friday, the seventeenth day of May next, be observed by the said Colonies as a day of Humiliation, Fasting, and Prayer; that we may with united hearts confess and bewail our manifold sins and transgressions, and by a sincere, repentance and amendment of life, appease his righteous displeasure and through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ, obtain his pardon and forgiveness; humbly imploring his assistance to frustrate the cruel purposes of our unnatural enemies; and by inclining their hearts to justice and benevolence, prevent the further effusion of kindred blood.

What jumps out at me here is that this isn’t just a call for a “magic genie” prayer, as in, “God, please help us to beat those mean Redcoats.” Yes, that is part of it. But do you notice the emphasis on acknowledging and submitting to God’s authority? Do you see the clear call to use this day to change the minds of the American people, not just God’s mind (i.e. “repentance and amendment of life”)? Do you get the sense that this wasn’t just a call to say a nice little prayer next to a comfortable fireplace while enjoying tea and crumpets? It certainly wasn’t! The people were called to fast, to bewail, to humiliate themselves before God. This is prayer with a capital “P.” This is praying with gusto!

Now, notice that the declaration set May 17th as the National Day of Prayer. This was to give time to disseminate the news about the upcoming day. In fact, George Washington had the decree read to his troops, who were stationed at Brooklyn bracing for a British attack. On May 17th, he and his troops participated in this national day of humiliation, fasting, and prayer. And if anybody was in need of God’s providential intervention (i.e. the first way that prayer works, that I described above), it was Washington and his troops. Would God protect them in the coming days?

Fast-forward three months.

By August, 1776, circumstances were dire. The colonies had declared their independence in July, and England was not about to stand for it. The British, with the help of vicious Hessian mercenaries, had embarked on a massive invasion of New York City. They had landed on the southern tip of Brooklyn, and chased the American army all the way to the northern tip of the island, Brooklyn Heights. Along the way, they had mercilessly mowed down the Americans. Many Hessians shot the Americans in the back and killed them as they retreated.

By the end of August, Washington found himself trapped at Brooklyn Heights. In front of him, the British and Hessians were about to overrun what was left of his army. Behind him was the East River, and as he began to ferry his remaining troops over to Manhattan, the British fleet was sailing in to cut off his only escape route. Many Americans today don’t realize it, but at Brooklyn Heights, Washington was a hair’s breadth from being captured and forced to surrender his entire army. The American Revolution would have been over practically before it started.

But something unbelievable happened. Out of nowhere, an unexpected torrential rainstorm hit New York City, temporarily bogging down the British and Hessian advance. Then, an unusually thick fog set in over the East River. Because of this, the British fleet was unable to sail up the river to close the noose on Washington. By the dark of night, Washington feverishly shuttled his troops across to Manhattan. Finally, Washington himself stepped onto the ferry for the final trip. He and his troops had miraculously escaped, and lived to fight another day.

You know the rest of the story. The British regrouped and chased Washington through Manhattan. By the end of 1776, Washington ended up in Pennsylvania, on the banks of the Delaware River, where he pulled off a stunning surprise victory at Trenton. Then there was Princeton, Brandywine Valley, the bitter winter at Valley Forge, Monmouth, and yes, eventually, Yorktown. The army that was nearly destroyed at Brooklyn Heights survived, and in the end, we won our independence. A nation was born.

I have read several accounts of the Battle of Brooklyn Heights, written by esteemed historians. I find it very interesting that when discussing the rainstorm and the dense fog, they use phrases like “fate intervened” or “there was a serendipitous downpour.” Some even use the word “providential” with a small “p.” In other words, Washington was the beneficiary of good fortune, or luck.

But here’s my explanation of it. On May 17th, 1776, American colonists prayed. American colonists fasted. America bewailed its sins and begged forgiveness through the mediation of Jesus Christ. America humiliated itself before God. And three months later, in late August of 1776, God sent a storm and a dense fog over Brooklyn Heights, at exactly the right time. It was no coincidence. It was not luck. God reached down and saved America.

That’s what I think, anyway. I think that prayer works.

Christianese 101

2010-05-03T12:38:00.003-04:00

In most areas of life, people tend to have their own specific language—or perhaps “jargon” is a better word. When I am at work, I speak in a certain way, use certain terms and phrases, etc., that my family and friends might not understand. And I have found that church is no exception. As Christians, we tend to have our own pet terms and ways of expressing ourselves. I have noticed many of these in the area of prayer.

The first silly expression, in my opinion, is when someone “covets our prayers,” as in,

Sunday School teacher: “Does anyone have any prayer requests this morning?”

Nancy: “Oh yes. Hal and I covet your prayers for Hal’s aunt who is in the hospital with pneumonia.”

Like me, you’ve probably heard this kind of thing dozens of times. But, I’ll admit, sometimes it’s hard for me to maintain the seriousness of the moment as I internally contemplate the inevitable conundrum here, namely, that the Bible clearly states that “Thou shalt not covet,” yet people are coveting my prayers. There seems to be some sort of unspoken exception to this commandment when it comes to other people’s prayers. It doesn’t make sense to me, though. Nevertheless, I don’t think there is any way to put a halt to this minor inconsistency in our “Christianese.” Unless, of course, you want to be the one to start a campaign against it. Here’s an idea: Just try following up with a prayer request like, “Please pray for Nancy and Hal as they struggle with the sin of covetousness in their lives,” and see how far you get.

Another term we Christians love to use with respect to prayer requests is “traveling mercies.” “Ted and Janet ask you all to pray for traveling mercies as they head up to Blacksburg to visit their son, then to New Orleans to see Janet’s blind niece.” Now, I really have no problem with the term “traveling mercies” because I think it’s a good idea to ask God to mercifully take care of us when we go on long trips. I just chuckle that the expression is used exclusively in this context. Why don’t we ever ask for “relationship mercies” or “healing mercies” or “material provision mercies”? Just wonderin’. I think that if I requested any of these other mercies, people would think it odd, and some might even think I was trying to be a smart aleck (who, me?).

Lastly, I’ll mention the standard language that a pastor uses during the closing prayer of a sermon. You’ve heard it many times. You know, when he says, “Now I want every head bowed, and every eye closed. Nobody looking around.” Then after the invitation, he has people raise their hands, acknowledging each one, one by one—again, with "every head bowed, every eye closed, and nobody looking around." I understand the importance of prayer, and the seriousness of that particular moment. But at the same time, it’s true that every time we pray, it’s a very serious matter, because we are communicating with God.

I wonder if there are any pastors out there who give a similar prayer when saying grace at the Thanksgiving dinner table with twenty-five of their family members present . . . “Now I want every head bowed, and every eye closed, no looking around. If you are truly thankful for what you have, and are truly thankful for the hands that prepared this turkey, I want you to quickly raise your hand then put it down again—with nobody looking around, nobody smelling the food. Just raise your hand so I can see it . . . Yes, here at the head table, I see a hand. Yes, over by Aunt Sally, I see your hand. Over there at the kids table, yes. Nobody looking around, every head bowed. Yes, over there by the stuffing, I see your hand . . .”—and so on. Just wonderin’.

Television commercials and “Punch Buggy”

2010-04-28T09:20:00.006-04:00

My boys are big sports fans. Nary a day goes by when they are not watching football, college basketball, hockey, you name it. My younger son reminds me of myself at his age—he is a fount of trivial sports knowledge and a true sports junkie at the age of eight. In fact, I remember one night about a year ago marveling about his sudden infatuation with professional lacrosse, which was showing on television. Anything is interesting at bedtime, right?

I have no real qualms about my sons liking sports, although I think it is important not to overdo it. There is one thing, though, that bothers me quite a bit. That is, while I don’t mind them watching sports on TV, I have grown increasingly concerned (and disgusted) over the content of commercials. Any more, they seem to be almost constantly laden with sexual and crude innuendos, off-color humor, mature subject matter (i.e. the inundation of Viagra ads), and graphic pictures (i.e. ads for horror movies, which I’ve especially noticed lately). This downward spiral has been going on for quite some time, I realize that. But I have come to a point where I ask, why should my son have to be exposed to this type of material at such a young age when all he is doing is trying to watch an otherwise appropriate sporting event? And for that matter, why should I have to be exposed to it?

So, for the last few years, in our house, we have started something new. When we watch TV—sports or otherwise—we mute the commercials. We just don’t listen to them. And while this in theory does not shield us from disturbing or inappropriate visual images, I have noticed that muting the TV tends to take our focus away from it altogether. All in all, I have found it to be a significant step in the right direction.

Despite my best efforts, however, there are periods when I forget, or the family gets lazy about it, and we don’t mute the television during commercials. Usually, though, after hearing some of the typical fare, I am reminded that we need to start “muting” again.

This reminds me—there is something that has been bothering me that I need to get off of my chest. During one of these lapses, I saw a commercial or two for Volkswagen. The theme of the ads is that various people are playing “punch buggy”—you know, the old game from our childhood where you punch someone in the arm when you see a Volkswagen Beetle and say “(red/blue/green/etc.) punch buggy.” I know there are different variations of punch buggy, but the game is centered around the Beetle, a.k.a the "buggy." The problem is, these ads (at least the ones I saw) are not for the Beetle, but for some other Volkswagen product—an SUV, a sedan, or some such.

After about the second time I saw this, I found myself getting kind of riled up and on the verge of screaming in protest at the television, “Wait just a minute! ‘Punch buggy’ is only for BUGGIES! It’s not for any old Volkswagen automobile! All of America knows that. DOESN’T VOLKSWAGEN KNOW ITS OWN GAME?” How dare they tarnish the honor of one of America’s great travel games in an effort to sell their other products! Shame on them!

Okay, it probably sounds silly to you, but thanks for letting me vent on this critically important topic. I feel unburdened now. And just to be clear, this is my only gripe with the Volkswagen ads, that is, they are not inappropriate in the ways I have described above.

At any rate, I believe it’s time to redouble my efforts at muting commercials.

--------------------

P.S.
Wouldn’t you know it—these commercials have got us playing ‘punch buggy’ on car trips lately. We count any Beetle as fair game, though in almost all cases, we see the newer model Beetles that have come out in the last decade or so. The other day, however, I saw one of the classic 60s-era Beetles, and dutifully punched my eight year old (don’t take that out of context, please). My wife and I laughed as he wildly protested, “That’s not a buggy!” Naturally, we had to explain that once upon a time there was an older model of buggy . . . you just don’t see too many of them anymore. It’s comments like that that make a guy feel middle-aged.

I need a ruling . . . letting people in

2010-04-26T09:31:00.005-04:00

Here’s one that has perplexed me for a long time. I need a ruling on the question of what is the most “courteous” course of action in the following situation. For some reason I find myself thinking counter to conventional practice on this matter.

I’m on my way home from work, and for reasons I’ve never been able to explain, traffic always seems to get worse in the spring. There is a particular traffic light on my commute that gets notoriously backed up. I’d say anywhere from 60-80 cars wait at the light in one lane, and about a dozen make it through at each green light. So the train of automobiles meanders back for about a quarter mile.

Now, the thing is, there just happens to be a 7-11 at this intersection. And, as you might imagine, during this busy time of day, motorists are exiting the 7-11 parking lot to get back on the road. To do this, they must turn onto the busy road that I am on, entering the traffic just before the light, and ahead of the 60-80 cars that are already waiting there.

You’ve been in this situation before, haven’t you? To be “courteous,” drivers allow people in, that is, they allow them onto the road from the 7-11. But by doing so, this just makes the traffic situation worse for everyone else.

So here is the question that riddles my mind. If I am nice to one person wanting to get on the road, am I not at the same time being rude to dozens of people behind me who have been waiting patiently for much longer than the 7-11 exitee?

If I charge right through the intersection without letting the person in, I may appear rude to that person, but in fact, I am being courteous to many people. And in a sense, I would just be “being fair” to the one person. After all, if they waited for seven to ten minutes to get onto the road, they would have waited just as long as everyone else.

In a nutshell, the way I think about it, I am being nice to 60-80 people, instead of showing special treatment to one. The “greater good” concept seems to apply here, doesn’t it?

You might be wondering what I really do in practice. Well, to be totally honest, a lot of times, despite my bold intentions, I “chicken out” at the last minute and let the person in. But believe me, I’m not happy about it. A few times I have stuck to my guns and not let the person in. But in these cases, I: (1) have felt a little like a jerk for not letting the person in (despite what I have reasoned here), or (2) have noticed that the next guy behind me lets the person in, so nothing is really gained anyway.

So as I see it, unless everyone subscribes to my logic, nothing will really change. And such a change, of course, will never happen. But please tell me that I at least have a valid idea that the “better” course of action is to be courteous to the many rather than being preferential to just one. At least I can be right in theory.

I need a ruling . . .

The Helping Hand Mission

2010-04-23T09:23:00.004-04:00

Do you ever wonder how it is that some childhood memories are rather fuzzy, while others remain quite vivid, even after thirty or forty years?

If you were to ask me to name one birthday or Christmas present that I received between the ages of six and fifteen, I couldn’t do it. I know that I got gifts. I just don’t remember what they were. Oh, I’m sure there was a football and some clothes, etc., but nothing jumps out. I can’t say “I’ll never forget that on my tenth birthday, I got such and such . . .”

On the other hand, to this day I have very strong recollections of the Helping Hand Mission. The Helping Hand Mission was a mission in a somewhat dangerous section of center city Philadelphia that I visited as a boy. I was about nine or ten years old at the time (circa 1975/1976). A group from our church would go to the mission once a month on a Saturday night to lead a worship service for homeless people, then provide them with sandwiches and coffee afterwards. My father would take my older sister and me on these trips.

What makes my memories of the mission so vivid is that they are multi-sensory. I remember the sights of the mission—the poor and homeless who would wander in. Some of them were mentally unstable, and would simply sit there and mumble softly to themselves the whole time. Others simply looked poor, dirty, destitute, helpless—nothing like what I was used to in my hometown in the suburbs.

I remember the sounds of the mission. I can remember the short walk from the car to the front door of the mission, often hearing police sirens nearby. But most of all, I can remember an enormous German shepherd behind a fence right outside of the mission. The dog, which was as big as me, would leap toward the fence, insanely barking, only a few feet from my face. It scared me to death.

I remember the smell of the mission. The mission was filled with a strong, grungy odor that was very displeasing. I recall wishing that I could hold my breath for an hour or so, but I knew that was not possible. I had to endure it. I also remember thinking how those who lived and worked there had to put up with that smell all the time.

And I remember the feel of the mission. I remember standing in line after the service, handing out food to the people, shaking their hands. A lot of these hands were old, dirty, even shriveled and misshapen. As a nine year old, I remember thinking that it felt kind of creepy, but I also was touched that many of them were so truly thankful that we were feeding them.

What I have come to realize as an adult is that what we did at the Helping Hand Mission was what true Christian charity is all about. We did not wait for the poor and dispossessed to stumble into our church some Sunday. We went to them. And we didn’t go just to hand out sandwiches, as important as that is. The Helping Hand Mission was there to meet physical needs, yes, but it was there to address spiritual illnesses as well, which is ultimately more important. Sometimes it was hard to tell if some of the people there were hearing the gospel as it was being proclaimed. But the church was being faithful in doing what it was called to do—going out into the world and preaching the Word.

My memories of the Helping Hand Mission have also caused me to think about what memories my children will have when they grow up. In all likelihood, they will not remember what presents they got on their birthdays. But have they had any experiences outside of our antiseptic suburbia that will be ingrained in them and impact their thinking to the degree that I have been affected by the Helping Hand Mission? I can’t say that my trips to the mission were “fun,” but I can say, in reflection, that they were helpful, both for the poor people there and for myself.

(By the way, out of curiosity I just did a quick search on the internet. The Helping Hand Mission, which was founded in 1905, is still up and operating in downtown Philadelphia, with the same goal that it has had for over a hundred years now. I found one photo of the mission, but it appears to be a personal photo taken by a professional athlete who was involved in that ministry, so I won't post it here.)

Does it really matter who said “Yes”? Well, yes and no.

2010-04-19T11:29:00.006-04:00

“Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before men, I will also disown him before my Father in heaven.” Matthew 10:32-33

This is the time of year when we recognize the anniversaries of a lot of violent, tragic events. The Virginia Tech shootings happened on April 16, 2007. The Waco siege ended in the burning down of the Branch Davidian compound on April 19, 1993. The Oklahoma City bombing took place two years later on the same day. And on April 20, 1999, at Columbine High School in Colorado, two high school students went on a shooting rampage, killing twelve students and one teacher as well as injuring several others before taking their own lives.

One of the better-known stories to emerge from the Columbine massacre is the story of Cassie Bernall. In the aftermath of the shootings, witnesses in the high school library stated that one of the gunmen pointed a gun at Ms. Bernall and asked her if she believed in God. She said “Yes,” and was immediately shot and killed.

As you might imagine, this little vignette launched a stream of inspirational tribute amongst evangelical Christians. She had died a martyr’s death, showing courage under the most dire of circumstances not to deny her Lord. Christian recording artists released tribute songs to Cassie Bernall. Her story was incorporated into many a Christian youth group meeting, and spurred other teens on to a deeper commitment to God. And Bernall’s mother wrote a book entitled She Said Yes, which chronicled young Cassie’s deliverance from a dangerously rebellious lifestyle as a younger teen.

But a few months after the Columbine event, as the dust began to settle and more details began to emerge, controversy arose. Based on the recollections of all witnesses in the library, and their relative locations in the room, it was determined that the original interchange between the killer and Ms. Bernall may not have been accurate. It seems that the gunman’s question “Do you believe in God?” and the answer “Yes” actually took place with another student, Valeen Schnurr. And, Ms. Schnurr was spared after her affirmative response.

Sadly, this set off a heated argument between supporters and detractors of evangelical Christianity. Detractors accused evangelicals as having jumped the gun on the Cassie Bernall story, and as having continued to perpetuate their version of the story to foster anti-atheist sentiment (the killers were purportedly motivated by their atheism). They further said that while we all ought to be sensitive to the families involved in the tragedy, we must also accept the truth of what transpired on April 20, 1999. Some supporters countered by insisting that the investigation was incorrect, and that Ms. Bernall really was the one who made the now-famous confession.

So what really happened? It seems that somebody stood up and acknowledged her belief in God “at the point of a gun” on that fateful day. But was it Cassie Bernall or Valeen Schnurr? This is a question that has intrigued me over the years, because I, like many Christians, have been greatly touched by the “She said ‘Yes’” incident.

I have done a small bit of reading and research on this, and although it appears now that it was Valeen Schnurr who actually had this famous exchange with the gunman, I am in no position to make any definitive, final judgments. I simply don’t know all the facts. But I do have a few thoughts.

First, the truth matters. The account of a modern day Christian martyr is a very powerful story, but I also believe it is wrong to pass off a story as true if it is not. In this case, three options exist: either Ms. Bernall said it, Ms. Schnurr said it, or it is truly undetermined (I am assuming that they both did not say it). If it is either of the last two, we—evangelicals included—should acknowledge it.

Second, I have come to believe that, in a sense, it doesn’t matter who said “Yes.” Don’t get me wrong here. As I said, I fully believe that the truth matters. What I’m saying here, though, is that whoever it was that said “Yes” is not the main story! To me, the main story is this—

Cassie Bernall was a young girl who was saved from a sinful life by placing her faith in Jesus Christ. Whether or not she had that specific conversation on that specific day, she is now in the presence of God for all eternity. Death has no power over her because she placed her faith in what Jesus Christ did some two thousand years ago. Sometimes as Christians we don’t find ourselves thinking or talking in these terms, but this is truly what we believe.

There is another part to the main story, however. That is, Valeen Schnurr, though her life was spared, apparently acknowledged God in an extreme situation. She survived that day, but did she know this when she was answering the gunman’s question? I think we would have to say that she did not.

I often have wondered what I would do if I ever had a gun pointed at me—literally—and was asked if I believe in God. My most sincere intention is that I would say, unhesitatingly, “Yes.” Maybe I would be shot and killed. Maybe I would be spared. But in the end, that’s not what matters. What ultimately matters is whether I am willing to acknowledge, in any situation, that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is Lord.

HOV lanes

2010-04-16T09:31:00.003-04:00

While sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate the other day, as I drove home from work, I looked to my left, and as is often the case in these situations, I noticed the sparsely populated HOV lanes.

And I started to think. When you are stopped in a traffic jam—not just a slow-down, but an actual jam—how many cars are stopped, say, in a one-mile stretch? Now, I suppose I could consult my local “trafficologist” (the local weather guy calls himself a “trafficologist” when he is doing traffic reports on the radio), but somehow I don’t think he took “Traffic Jam Research and Analysis” when he was at the University of Buffalo School of Trafficology. So, stay with me a minute while I do some quick calculations.

1. I am going to estimate that in a traffic jam, there is a car every twenty feet per lane (this allows for slow movement and short gaps).

2. There are 5,280 feet in a mile. Therefore, if there is on average one car every twenty feet, each lane would have 264 cars in a mile.

3. There are three lanes of traffic. Therefore the total number of cars is 264 x 3 = 792, or nearly 800 cars.

Does this sound reasonable?

Now, as I sat there in traffic, I could see a good swath of the accompanying HOV lane, perhaps a good half-mile stretch. It was mostly open road. Every ten to fifteen seconds a few cars would race by, unencumbered by the nearby jam. So naturally the next question I asked myself was “How many cars are in a one-mile stretch of the HOV lane?” Again, I need to make some educated estimates.

1. The HOV cars are doing about 70 MPH. Therefore, they cover one mile in a little under a minute.

2. My best guess is that three to five cars zoomed by every 10-15 seconds.

3. Therefore, giving the benefit of the doubt to higher HOV usage, I’ll say that five cars go by every ten seconds. So, in a minute, there would be about thirty cars in the HOV lane.

Still with me? That’s 800 vs. 30.

All this really leads to my overall question of this whole topic, and that is, what is the purpose of having HOV lanes in the first place? I thought they were established to cut down on traffic and to save energy (gas). Well, in this case (and other cases that I have observed), neither appears to be taking place.

My suggestion would be to open up the HOV lanes to everybody during rush hour. In the scenario that I have described, five lanes would be available instead of three. I see three main benefits. First, there would be no traffic jams day-in and day-out on that stretch of interstate. Second, I believe energy costs would go down. Instead of 800 cars burning fuel over an extended period of time, motorists could be on their way and finish their daily consumption of fuel more quickly. And third, I would submit that frustration, anger, and road rage would diminish considerably. More happiness. And isn’t that what it’s all about anyway?

I would caution you that I am not a licensed trafficologist, so I may be way off on this. But I would suggest that there are a number of possible explanations to the current state of affairs. Maybe the traffic authorities have not thought of the things I am saying. Or, they have studied these things and determined that I am wrong. Or, they have studied it, know that I am right, but continue the status quo, perhaps viewing HOV lanes as some kind of social experiment to effect a desired behavior among the populace. If it is the third explanation, then it is not working.

Stupid song lyrics: oldies and standards

2010-04-14T08:40:00.004-04:00

Well, if it isn’t the second Wednesday of the month again. Time for another episode of “Stupid song lyrics.”

If you thought that stupid song lyrics are a recent phenomenon, I would gently urge you to think again. They have been around for quite a while. In this installment I present some of my favorite clunkers from yesteryear. Enjoy.

1. From the classic “I Believe”: I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows.

I, on the other hand, see no such one-to-one correspondence. In fact, my guess is that there are far, far more drops of rain than there are flowers in the world. There are, to be sure, millions and perhaps billions of flowers on our planet. I do not doubt that. But think for a minute about the last time it poured at your house. How many drops of rain do you think fell in your back yard in an hour during that heavy rainstorm? Bottom line: I think it’s no contest, the raindrops win, hands-down.

2. In 1968, The Turtles sang “Elenore, gee I think you’re swell, and you really do me well, you’re my pride and joy, et cetera.”

It’s as if they are saying, “Yes, there are several more things that we could say about Elenore—nice things in fact—but frankly, we’re too lazy to expound any more on the topic.” Truth be known, I have actually given thought to incorporating this into my own daily conversation, but I don’t think it would be appreciated. But it sure would make things simpler (for me, anyway). “Boss, I finished the reports, took notes at the meeting, et cetera . . . I’m taking the rest of the week off.”

3. Do you remember “Incense and Peppermints” by the one-hit wonder band Strawberry Alarm Clock? One line of the song states, “Incense and peppermints, meaningless nouns.”

First of all, if they are meaningless, then how could you possibly identify them as nouns? It’s kind of impossible, isn’t it? Second, and I hate to crash the whole ‘60s vibe of “there’s no true meaning because there are no absolutes” by pointing to some authoritative document, but, according to Webster’s, incense means “the perfume or smoke from some spices and gums when burned” and peppermint means “a pungent aromatic mint, also, candy flavored with its oil.” Meaningful, indeed.

4. Early-‘60s rocker Dion mellowed out a bit in 1968, providing the penetrating, socially-conscious hit “Abraham, Martin, and John.” The song tells of the contributions to freedom made by the American icons Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Jr., and John F. Kennedy. Here is how the song starts:

Has anybody here seen my old friend Abraham?
Can you tell me where he’s gone?
He freed a lot of people, but it seems the good, they die young,
I just looked around, and he’s gone.

Okay, I think I can handle this one. You see, Dion, the reason nobody has seen your old friend Abraham Lincoln is because nobody alive in 1968 had ever seen Abraham Lincoln—HE WAS ASSASSINATED ONE HUNDRED AND THREE YEARS BEFORE YOU RECORDED THIS SONG! I’m guessing you were absent that day in history class. These lyrics make it seem like Dion and Abraham were at a party together when Dion stepped aside to get a drink, and when he got back, he looked around and Abe was gone! Sometimes I think Dion would get a real kick out of hearing about the fishing trip I once took with King Henry VIII, Millard Fillmore, and Sacagawea.

One of my heroes

2010-04-09T21:07:00.004-04:00

This past Monday, at about 11:00 P.M., my family was freaking out. My wife was yelling at the television. My son kept saying, “This is intense. This is so intense.” I was pacing back and forth. We were, as you might guess, watching the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship game between Duke and Butler. If you saw it, or read about it the next day, you know that it was a real barn-burner. Commentators dubbed it an instant classic. The hard-fought contest went down to the final buzzer, with Duke prevailing 61-59.

As time ran out, and Butler’s desperation half-court shot just missed, our family let out a tremendous sigh of relief, then shouts of jubilation. My wife and I are alumni of Duke, and thus we are big fans. We also, as dutiful parents, have brainwashed our sons to be fans as well. Thus, with the championship secured, we danced around merrily, hugging each other and giving high-fives all around.

This was the fourth time Duke has won the NCAA Men’s Basketball championship under their long-time coach, Mike Krzyzewski, or as he is commonly known, Coach K.

Now, if you know me, you probably know that Coach K is one of my heroes. In fact, at one point in my life, my wish was to get my picture taken with two famous people before I die: Ronald Reagan and Mike Krzyzewski. Well, I never was able to get a photo with the Gipper, but as the above picture shows, I was able to get a picture with Coach K back in 2001 at a charity event at Duke University. Yep, that’s me in the picture, with my two boys. At the time, my older son was nine, and little Matthew was just three months old (I remember how my arm ached that night because I held him that way for about three hours).

The reasons why someone would hold Coach K in high regard have been well-documented. He is a great leader and master motivator. He invests in relationships with his players and others. He engages in charitable ventures, sometimes out of the camera’s eye. He maintains a high graduation rate. And, year-in and year-out, he maximizes the talents and abilities of his players and achieves outstanding results. Within the next two seasons, barring any personal catastrophe, he will become the all-time winningest Division 1 men’s basketball coach.

But some look at all of this success over the years and quite frankly are getting a little sick of it. I can understand this. In sports, it’s not always fun for the other guys when one team experiences prolonged success. For instance, when it comes to hockey, I am a Philadelphia Flyers fan (I grew up around Philly), and their rivals, the New Jersey Devils, have been so successful for so long, and have dominated the Flyers for so long, that I’m really just numb to it now.

What I can’t understand, however, is the wave of utter hatred that has been aimed at Coach K over the last several years. While one can certainly find flattering coverage of him in the media, one need not look far to see a burgeoning irrational hate for this man. He is accused of being smug and arrogant. He is accused of being an elitist. He is accused of cheating and lying. Referees and officials are said to give him preferential treatment.

But it goes further than this. For instance, last week, in the days leading up to the Final Four games, there were two newspaper articles which defamed Coach K. One was in the Miami Herald, where a reporter unleashed a stream of personal attacks against him. (The paper, in keeping with the contemporary idea of “say anything you want, then issue a brief apology later,” issued a brief apology later.) The second was an article in an Indianapolis newspaper, featuring a head shot of Coach K which was defaced with horns and all sorts of other graffiti (ditto on the “apology”). How would you feel if you saw your picture in the paper that way? And I can tell you that in recent years I have read numerous similar articles attacking Coach K. These are not coming from disgruntled, anonymous fans writing on fan message boards on the internet. This is the mainstream sports media.

The question that I find myself pondering is: Why is there this level of hate towards a successful college basketball coach? I’m pretty sure that he is not a perfect human being, but, he does embody what is good about sports in an era where there is a lot of bad. I think about how I don’t like the fact that the New Jersey Devils always seem to beat my Flyers, and I therefore “don’t like them.” But at the end of the day, I know it’s just a hockey game, just an entertainment event, and nothing more. I don’t despise them or their coach. Regarding hatred of Coach K, some answers have been posited in the media, and as with almost anything in life, jealousy seems to be right there at the top of the list. Whether it’s Duke, or the New York Yankees, or for that matter a successful businessman, barber, or bus driver, success breeds jealousy.

But I think there are some more deep-seated reasons, not just for irrational hatred of Coach K, but for irrational hatred of sports teams and personalities in general. Perhaps I will take these up in a future entry.

Pet peeve #348: Helping out the news networks

2010-04-05T09:16:00.003-04:00

Here’s another entry from the pet peeve vault.

On a handful of occasions each year, we have what are known as “weather events.” In Virginia, they come in two main categories: hurricanes, which normally come through in August and September; and “snow storms,” which hit in the winter months, but in most cases yield only enough snow to be a nuisance to commuters.

Naturally, when a “weather event” is on the horizon, I, like most people, tune in to the local TV station to get the latest news, forecasts, and helpful tips, such as the need to stock up on water, gasoline, and movies from Blockbuster. One thing I have noticed recently as I watch the local networks is their increasingly frequent plea for viewers to send in pictures of the weather event. “Eyewitness news asks you, the viewer, to send us your pictures of Flake Frenzy 2010 [the events now often come with their own unique titles, as if the storm is a made-for-TV movie]. Just e-mail them to us at eyewitness@news.com,” or some such.

I have always found these requests to be very curious. First of all, I find myself thinking, “Wait a minute. In one breath you are warning me about these life-threatening conditions that I am about to face. I’d better hunker down and brace for shock. Then, in the next breath, you are telling me to get right out there and take some happy-snaps for good ol’ Eyewitness News, my trusted friend who is always there for me in the information era.” I feel I am getting some mixed signals here.

The other thing is, and call me an old curmudgeon if you must, but, isn’t it their job to send out reporters to take pictures of the weather event? I already have a forty-hour-a-week job, and if I am not at work due to an impending storm, I am at home battening down the hatches. Or, in the case of yet another “significant snow event” that amounts to two inches of accumulation, I am slipping and sliding my way to work, trying to dodge all the accidents as I go. The last thing on my mind is gathering up my camera and heading out into danger, like I’m Jimmy Olsen working for the Daily Planet or something.

I have been tempted to take a few pictures and send them in with the following e-mail:

Dear Eyewitness News,

I am grateful for the opportunity to help you out during the current natural disaster by providing ad hoc photojournalism services to your network. The requested photos are attached. However, having helped you out with your job, I am going to need the Eyewitness News staff to render services in kind, namely, I will need someone from the news team to cover my staff meeting next Monday morning, as well as to finish my monthly reports due out next Thursday. Your reciprocity in this matter is much appreciated.

All right, all right. I know. The networks want us to send in pictures largely for human interest reasons. But, for me, I don’t tune in to see little Susie’s snow angels in Suffolk or the big tree that fell on Hubert’s car out in Windsor. I tune in to get information about the “weather event,” not to see a bunch of fluff. The networks can send out reporters to get all of the human interest photos they want.

Yes, it’s a pet peeve, a particular vexation, a personal bugbear. But, really, why don’t they just do their job, and I’ll do my job, and we leave it at that?

Easter reflections, part 3

2010-04-02T09:44:00.002-04:00

When I was a boy I attended a small Methodist church a few minutes from our home in Pennsylvania. I can remember attending a Good Friday service one year. I was probably seven or eight years old. People looked somber. The atmosphere was sad and very quiet. The pastor talked about Jesus’ suffering and dying. Although I was just a little boy, I had a basic understanding of what was transpiring. However, what I remember thinking to myself over and over that day was, “Why do we call this Good Friday? What’s so good about it?”

Well, I suppose it doesn’t take too much thought to make sense of it. What’s good about it is not the excruciating suffering that Jesus endured, but rather that He did it for us, in our place, for the salvation of all who believe in Him. I think 2 Corinthians 5:21 sums it up really well: “God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” So as contradictory as it might seem, Good Friday is a somber day, yet a good day for those who believe in Christ Jesus.

When I reflect on Easter, I tend to go right to the end of each of the four gospels. After all, that is where the Passion story is recorded. But as the above-quoted verse reveals, the Passion story, and the interpretation thereof, appears all throughout Scripture. In fact, I’d like to sign off today by merely re-printing a passage that, when I think about it, ought to be required reading for all of us on Good Friday. It is Isaiah 53. To me, what is so absolutely stunning about this chapter of the Bible is that it was written about 700 years before Jesus lived, yet it depicts a man who:

(a) Was rejected and despised by men, and suffered and died;
(b) Had himself done nothing wrong;
(c) Died for our transgressions, because we are all sinners;
(d) Although dead, would somehow live again;
(e) Would be given some exalted position by God; and
(f) Will make intercession on our behalf so that we can be justified

Sounds a lot like the gospel, doesn’t it? Is it any wonder that Isaiah is sometimes referred to as “the fifth gospel?”

Here’s wishing you all a very Happy Easter.

---------------------------

Isaiah 53

1 Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

2 He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

3 He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

4 Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.

5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

7 He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken.

9 He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.

10 Yet it was the Lord's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.

11 After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities.

12 Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Easter reflections, part 2

2010-03-31T10:29:00.005-04:00

Why is it that the Christmas season lasts for a month, but the Easter season lasts only for a week or two at most? As I opined in my last blog entry, isn’t Easter the more significant holiday? Isn’t the death and resurrection of Jesus the most important event in Christianity, even in world history?

I was therefore ready to rant that the Easter season ought to be beefed up to reflect its relative importance. Let’s expand the focus on Easter as it approaches, maybe emphasize it for three or four weeks. Let’s make a bigger deal out of Palm Sunday. Let’s press for a national holiday coincident with Easter (I’ve always wondered why, with all of the holidays we have, and with all of the reasons for them, we do not have a national holiday on Good Friday or Easter Monday).

But as I progressed down this mental path, two significant roadblocks presented themselves. Maybe they are both obvious. The first is that, in our culture, an expansion of the Easter season would only mean an expansion of “commercial Easter”—more time for the Easter Bunny to appear at the mall, more time for Easter egg hunts, more time to sell chocolate eggs and bunnies in their pastel-colored wrappers, and more time to invent new traditions that have nothing to do with the death and resurrection of our Savior.

The second roadblock to the need to expand Easter is more significant, in my estimation. If you go to church at least semi-regularly, you have no doubt heard the reason before. That is, as Christians, the whole reason we worship on Sundays in the first place is to remember the resurrection of Jesus. We are to be celebrating Easter every week!

All four gospel accounts say that Jesus’ resurrection happened on the first day of the week (the day after the Sabbath). Later, during the time of the early church, Christians began the practice of meeting together on the first day of the week to commemorate the resurrection. This came to be known as “the Lord’s Day.” In 1 Corinthians 16:2, Paul gives instructions as to what the believers in Corinth should do on the “first day of the week,” implying that they gathered together on that day. In Revelation 1:10, John’s vision is given to him on “the Lord’s Day.” This practice of Christians gathering for worship on “the first day of the week” or “the Lord’s Day” is also found in other writings of the first and second century, and obviously continues to today.

The commercialization of Easter, like that of Christmas, is silly and is certainly deserving of light-hearted chiding. (For instance, how do you explain the association of the Easter bunny, who is a rabbit, with eggs? I don’t get it.) But I’m thankful that instead of meandering off on that tangent, I was instead reminded of how all of us ought to be viewing worship services each and every Sunday. It is the Lord’s Day, and we go to church every Sunday to celebrate Easter—the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Easter reflections, part 1

2010-03-29T09:50:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and the Easter season is upon us. It comes and goes pretty quickly, doesn’t it? Whereas in December, when we spend about a month gearing up for and celebrating Christmas (the birth of the Savior, or at least that’s what we’re supposed to be celebrating), Easter time is comparatively short. What’s more, Easter coincides with Spring Break at school and the NCAA basketball tournament, so perhaps it is easy to get distracted.

But when you think about it, from a Christian perspective, Easter is the most important holiday of the year. The birth of Jesus—that is, the incarnation of God Himself into human form—is remarkable and certainly warrants its due at Christmas, but Easter marks the event that in a sense defines Christianity itself. Without too much exaggeration, the resurrection of Jesus can be called the single most significant event in history, in that it validates the claims, teachings, and predictions of Jesus. Chief among these claims is that He is God’s Son, and that eternal life rests in us believing in Him.

I have determined this Easter to read and contemplate the Passion narratives in the Bible. When I have done this in the past, one thing that has always struck me is that the story contains details that I think we sometimes overlook. At least I do. Maybe I’m reading so fast that I mentally skip over phrases or sentences that are packed with significance. One example is the simple sentence “Then Pilate took Jesus and had Him flogged” (John 19:1). This snippet appears in the other gospel accounts as well. I’ll tell you, there have been times when I have been three or four verses down the road when I stopped and said to myself, “Whoa, wait a second. Did that just say that Jesus was flogged?” Without getting into all the gory details, flogging was an intensely brutal practice. By flying right by this short verse, I think we can miss the significance of how much Jesus suffered on our behalf.

Here’s another example of what I mean. It appears in the last part of John 19:15, which says:

“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.
“We have no king but Caesar,” the chief priests answered.

Again, in the past I have blown right by this verse without giving it too much thought. But as I contemplate it now, I find the reply of the chief priests to be shocking. The chief priests were the Jewish religious leaders of the day. And remember, they were trying to kill Jesus because of blasphemy—Jesus was claiming to be a king, claiming to have the rights and qualities of God. In other words, in the eyes of the chief priests, Jesus was claiming equality with Yahweh, the Creator God of Israel from the Old Testament. That God was the true king. Yet what did the chief priests say to Pontius Pilate? They said, “We have no king but Caesar.”

Let me express it this way. One might have expected the chief priests to say something like, “You know, this guy is claiming to be God, and as you are aware, Mr. Pilate, our ancient Scriptures tell us that the God of Israel is the one true God, the one we are supposed to love with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. God is our king, not this guy.” But instead they denied their God altogether, and swore allegiance to Caesar. Caesar! The unclean, Gentile, secular overlord of captive Israel! Wow. Now, I am aware that the Jewish leadership had in many ways strayed from their responsibilities of being the guardians of the Jewish belief in Yahweh. Yet when I ponder the chief priests’ cold, public denial of their God, and enthusiastic declaration of allegiance to Caesar, I find it shocking.

Much is made of the story of Peter’s denial of Jesus during the Passion story, and rightly so. Much can be learned from it. But much can be learned from the chief priests as well. You see, the chief priests were supposed to be the “guardians of the truth,” the ones pointing others to God, but instead they had devolved largely into advocates of rote tradition and religious rules. In doing so, they had actually fallen far away from God, as witnessed by their response to Pontius Pilate. Men who purportedly viewed God as the only king actually said, “We have no king but Caesar.”

Can harboring such an attitude happen to Christians today? Sadly, I believe it can and does. One of my prayers this Easter season is that I would not slip into habits of practicing religious rules and traditions, but rather that I would understand, acknowledge, and proclaim who God really is—and what He did by sending His own Son to earth. His Son, King Jesus.

Am I asking too much?

2010-03-26T11:20:00.005-04:00

Consider the following brief quiz:

1. Who is on the ten dollar bill?

2. What is the first line of the Erie Canal Song?

3. What state is Vice President Biden from?

4. Complete the saying, “To the victor goes the ________.”

5. What is the length of one term for a United States senator?

Did you get them all right? Did you think the questions were difficult? In my estimation, these questions should be pretty easy. Maybe the Erie Canal Song is a little tougher, because that song is slowly slipping out of our national memory (as is the case with many of the songs of our heritage, but that’s another subject for another day).

Over the past few semesters, in the course of lecturing in my American History class at the local community college, I have asked these questions to my class. In each case, I was met with silence. Nobody knew the answers. Zero students in a class of about twenty-five. I wasn’t surprised that everybody didn’t know the answers. But I was dumbfounded that nobody knew.

It’s not that I think my students are stupid or incapable of learning. I honestly don’t think that’s the case. I try to take a little time to get to know my students, and all of them are capable of learning at a high level.

Why, then, do the students, a majority of whom are in their late teens or twenties, not know these things? As I recall—and I’m trying to be as honest as possible here—when I was a teenager, such facts were commonly known, or at least more commonly known. Vice President Mondale was from Minnesota. Vice President Bush was from Texas (that’s more obvious now since he and his son served as President). Ulysses S. Grant is on the fifty dollar bill, and Benjamin Franklin is on the one hundred.

The next question, naturally, is that if this is in fact a valid observation, then why is it that young people today don’t know these things? The answer to this question is no doubt the subject of many books and journal articles. In my view, there are some deep-seated problems not only in our educational system, but in our culture in general that contribute to this problem (a loaded statement, I know . . . perhaps I can address it in more detail sometime).

I notice this phenomenon not only in my teaching, but in many other areas of life. The problem rears its head in matters ranging from common knowledge, to historical facts, to bad grammar. For instance, I recently ran across two Facebook pages, established by American youths. One explained that what parents view as “back talk” is really just “kids explaining why their wrong” (how about “why THEY’RE wrong”). As for the other one, I don’t recall the specific subject, only that everyone would “want to be apart of this.” Hmmm. I could see myself being a part of something. I could see myself being apart from something. But how do I be “apart of” something?

It’s as if the movie “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” is coming to life . . . Teacher: “Who was Joan of Arc?” Ted: “Uh, Noah’s wife?” . . . Teacher: “It seems to me the only thing you’ve learned is that Caesar was a ‘salad dressing dude.’”

So here I am ranting. It just seems like many things that used to be common knowledge no longer are, that poor grammar and spelling are ruling the day, etc., etc. And it seems to me that the average fifteen, or eighteen, or twenty-two year old ought to know better.

Am I asking too much?

(Quiz answers: 1. Alexander Hamilton; 2. “I got a mule and her name is Sal, fifteen miles on the Erie Canal”; 3. Delaware; 4. spoils; 5. six years)

Beads of dew on the tomatoes? Get real!

2010-03-24T08:19:00.002-04:00

Have you ever found yourself daydreaming about being in a totally different line of work, one that nobody would ever think that you would pursue? For me, I often wonder what it would be like to be a food photographer. It’s pure fantasy, since I have no experience in the field of photography and can’t take a good picture to save my life. Nevertheless, when I see food commercials on television, I am taken in by the artistry, the keen attention to detail, and quite frankly, the unreality of it all.

Take hamburgers for instance. The typical Wendy’s or Hardee’s commercial depicts a piping hot burger, steam flowing off of the just-cooked patty. The patty is topped, of course, with the freshest of vegetables heaped high—so fresh, in fact, that, if you look closely, you will find that there are drops of dew still on the slice of tomato. Drops of dew still on the tomato? Are you kidding me? By the way, in many instances this is because all of the vegetables have just splashed through a makeshift fresh waterfall in slow motion (on their own volition, no less). All this is topped with a glistening, freshly baked bun. It looks awesome, but really, when is the last time you bought a burger that looked anything like this in a fast food restaurant?

The other thing I notice is that the burger is always filmed in extreme close-up, giving us the impression that it is big enough to feed one of the figures on Mount Rushmore. This is particularly funny when fast food places are advertising their “Value” or “Dollar” menus. “The new double bacon cheese deluxe bacon bacon burger for only a buck,” they say, while we see a mouth-watering burger that looks like it could feed a family of six. When we get to the restaurant, however, we find out exactly what a dollar buys us. Nevertheless, the photography is outstanding and impresses me.

Another area that fascinates me about food photography is the category that I call, “That will really make a mess, won’t it?” A good example is almost any beer commercial. They depict the frothy head of beer overflowing out of the glass, spilling out all over the sides. It looks great, but now you have sort of a mess on your hands. Sticky glass, sticky table, and sticky hands that smell like beer. How attractive.

My favorite example of the “That will really make a mess” category, though, is Red Lobster. The next time you see a Red Lobster commercial, notice how a person is depicted delicately taking a piping hot, steaming chunk of succulent lobster out of its shell, then forcefully immersing it into a small bowl of melted butter. As the person does this, the butter goes flying out of the bowl in all directions in semi-slow motion. Of course, the commercial cuts to the next scene before we can see the consequences of the aesthetically pleasing butter splash. I have often had the urge to try this myself when I am at a seafood restaurant, but I know I’d get in big trouble. Butter would get all over the table, on my wife’s dress, in our beverages, on the floor, and possibly onto the people sitting nearby. But boy would it be cool.

I could go on and on, because there are so many good examples of this (like maybe the Rembrandt-like application of garlic sauce to the pizza crust in a recent Domino’s commercial). You get the picture. So if you’re ever wondering what I would do if I had to do it all over again, just think of the fabulous, fantastic world of food photography.

I’m a real “why guy,” and here’s why

2010-03-22T12:47:00.007-04:00

Do you remember the movie “I Spy,” starring Owen Wilson and Eddie Murphy? It came out about seven years ago. Wilson plays a spy on a special mission in Europe, trying to recover a stolen stealth aircraft. Murphy, playing a professional boxer (the middleweight champion, in fact) is asked to go under cover and stage a fight in Budapest in order to help catch the bad guys. It’s all done in the name of national security.

There is a scene in the movie where Wilson’s character is trying to convince the tentative boxer-turned-spy (Murphy) that the President was right in asking him to be a part of such a dangerous mission. Wilson inspires Murphy by telling him, “You know what you are? You are a ‘why not’ guy, not a ‘why guy.’” He explains that a “why guy” is always asking why, always asking permission. A “why guy” can never make a decision. A “why guy” is always afraid that he is going to get in trouble. As a result, “why guys” are not very assertive or brave, and ultimately do not lead very adventurous or satisfying lives.

This is not so for a “why not” guy like Murphy. A “why not” guy isn’t afraid to take a risk, roll the dice, live on the edge. A “why not” guy doesn’t have to feel bound by the rules. He goes for the gusto. He lives an exciting life. When faced with the question of whether or not to embark on a questionable venture, he tells himself, “Why not?”

On many occasions I have found myself pondering this particular interchange from this particular movie. The reason for this is that I have always considered myself a “why guy,” and this scene certainly paints “why guys” in an unflattering light. What brought the issue to my mind most recently is my previous blog entry concerning pet peeves. If you recall, I told you that I am the type of person who tends to have a lot of pet peeves. I’m not always proud of it, but I do. Sometimes I actually get a bit peeved that I have so many peeves. Maddening.

I got to thinking, why do I have so many pet peeves? I believe that when it comes right down to it, the main reason is because I am a “why guy.” I always find myself asking “Why?” (like asking why I have so many pet peeves . . .) I find myself contemplating why people do the things they do, say the things they say, and act the way they act. Deep down inside, I am curious as to why people are the way they are, especially when I observe how often people (and I include myself) don’t behave in ways that make sense.

If you read my blog, you know that the “why” question is part of my shtick. Why, in the 21st century, do we still say “Bless you” when someone sneezes? Why do we have all sorts of new knowledge these days, like the Southern Ocean and the fourth state of matter? Why do we feel the need to comment when we walk past someone carrying donuts?

Yes, being a “why guy” can drive me crazy sometimes. And I admit it has its dangers. It has the potential to impede timely decision-making. It has the potential to come across as whining, complaining, or being judgmental. And it certainly isn’t sexy, at least in the eyes of the world. How does a “why guy” take the bull by the horns, go for the gusto, etc., etc.?

Here’s my response: Despite the potential pitfalls, of which I am quite aware, being a “why guy” goes right to the very core of my personal life philosophy—a philosophy governed by my Christian faith. You see, I believe that the ultimate reason we are here on earth is to worship God and give glory to Him . . . in everything that we do. Everything. And if that’s the case, I need to approach every situation, from the most significant aspects of my life down to the minutest detail, with that in mind. Thus, in every situation, I should ask the question “Why?”—as in, does this make sense in the context of my lifelong goal to please and glorify God in all things? If it doesn’t make sense, then I am, in a very real sense, wasting my time. It might look like I’m sucking the marrow out of life, throwing caution to the wind, living on the edge, or however you want to express it, but in reality I’m just wasting time. And our days here on earth are too short to be wasting any time. I ask “why” precisely because I don’t want to waste time, but rather, I want every moment to be filled with the excitement that comes from living with a purpose. That is the path to "living with gusto,” as our culture puts it.

Thus I disagree with the “why not” approach, even though it seems so attractive. Some of the reasons not to be a “why not” guy are obvious. A “why not” guy is less concerned (or not concerned at all) with the morality and ethics associated with his actions, or the consequences of his choices, or how an action might hurt someone else. But my biggest objection to the “why not” guy is that although he appears to be living life to the fullest, he is actually wasting time by not considering how his decisions connect to the overall purpose of his life. For me, it is clear that that purpose is properly derived from a relationship with God.

As I pursue what God has called me to do, particularly in the area of my profession, I feel an immense freedom, vitality, and satisfaction. And, one of the reasons for this, I believe, is because I have sincerely tried to ask the question “Why?” Why do I do, think, and act the way I do in every situation, and is it directed to the end of glorifying God?

You can safely assume that because I am not perfect, I mess up every day in this regard. But, as a result of this life philosophy, I am convinced that I am not wasting a lot of time in my life, and that my life has meaning and purpose. I’m not a super spy. I’m not Jack Bauer. But this “why guy” has a passion in life and a fire to do what God has called him to do. And I’ll tell you, nary a day goes by where I don’t feel the rush of exhilaration one gets after riding a roller coaster.

Pet peeve #247: Are those donuts for me?

2010-03-19T09:51:00.003-04:00

We’ve all been in the situation before when it has been our turn to bring in the donuts, be it at work, or for the Sunday School class, or wherever. So there you are, lugging a few dozen donuts through the hallway, and inevitably, someone passing by feels the incessant need to make a comment. “Oh, you bought me some donuts,” or, “Ooh, can I have one?” or “Are those donuts for me?” Of course, it could be donuts, a covered dish, pizza . . . you get the picture.

This is what I call a pet peeve. The definition of “pet peeve” as stated on dictionary.com cracks me up. It is “a particular and often continual annoyance; a personal bugbear.” Bugbear? When’s the last time you used that word in daily conversation? Anyway, lest you look askance at me over this, I just wanted to make clear that my pet peeves are not the same as your pet peeves. But nevertheless, they are peeves. You have them, I have them. I have a lot of them. I’m not always proud of it, but there you go, there’s my big confession for the day.

What is so annoying about the “donut situation” anyway? I had to give it some thought. I think, first of all, that such comments are just not very funny or clever. Second, it’s not like carrying donuts is such an uncommon occurrence, or that these people have never seen a donut before. To the contrary, I would suggest that we live in a very donut-saturated society. For instance, within a three-mile radius of my house, I can think of at least four places where I can buy donuts.

But as I ponder this a little further, I can think of a few more reasons why this is one of my pet peeves. One is that when I am in this situation, for various reasons, I am often either in a hurry or have my hands full. Maybe buying the donuts has left me a little late for church, or something like that. Or maybe I’m trying to carry all of my normal stuff in addition to the donut boxes. This tends to put me more in an “I-don’t-want-to-hear-inane-comments” kind of mood. I’d rather have someone say, “Gee, your hands look kind of full. Can I help you?"

Finally, I tend to get annoyed that I can’t think of a pleasant response to such comments—a response that doesn’t say “I think your comment is stupid”—even though this is what I’m thinking. After all, it’s only a pet peeve, there’s no need to set off World War III. So I usually just smile, give a fake laugh, or something like that, while in my mind, I’m thinking, “No, as a matter of fact, you can’t have a donut,” or “Go buy your own donuts.”

A few weeks ago, I was at a track meet, sitting in the stands, waiting for my son’s event. A man who had been sitting nearby was returning to his seat with a basket of chicken strips and French fries, and a Coke. As he made his way to his seat, a lady said, “Oh, did you bring those for me?” (Note that even though I wasn’t involved, just hearing this set off my pet peeve-meter.) Without missing a beat, the man said, “No, yours are back at the concession stand.”

After a few minutes, I thought to myself, “Well played, my friend.” I had not thought of that response before. And indeed it was a good retort. Short, sweet, not rude, and it got the message across. “Go buy your own” and “You can’t have mine” were implied in the answer, yet did not have to be voiced. I would have come up with something much longer, more awkward, more sarcastic . . . in short, I would have come off sounding like a jerk. His tone was friendly and jovial, yet somehow conveyed the message of “Your comment was stupid.”

So here’s my plan. The next time I’m bringing the donuts in and get one of those typical comments, I’m going to try out this man’s comment. I’m pretty confident that it will work well. But if it backfires, well, then at least I’ll have something else to blog about.

I was going to throw out another one of my pet peeves today, but I think I’ll leave it at that for now. In the future I’ll let you in on some more of my persistent personal perceived peccadillos.

A helpful insight from C. S. Lewis

2010-03-17T11:00:00.004-04:00

“Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.” -- Psalm 90:2

If you believe in God, you probably believe in the idea that He is eternal. That is, one of His attributes, or qualities, is that He has always existed. He has no beginning and no ending. He exists, in a sense, outside of time as we know it. He is infinite.

But, how often have you really stopped to think about the profundity of this assertion? In our culture, we are familiar with statements such as “The universe is 4.6 billion years old, and began with the Big Bang,” or “A nuclear exchange between the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War would have brought the world to an end.” Regardless of the factuality of these statements, the idea that God is eternal goes way beyond this. That is, if God is truly infinite and eternal, then 4.6 billion years isn’t even a drop in the bucket with regard to how long God has existed.

Sometimes my head starts to hurt--quite literally--when I try to get my arms around this idea. Our difficulty, of course, lies in the fact that we human beings cannot comprehend infinity, nor can we comprehend the notion that God exists outside of our “time-space continuum,” so to speak.

In his book Mere Christianity, the great C. S. Lewis provided an example that, while not perfect, helps us to understand how God can be thought of as eternal or existing outside of time.

Lewis asks us to imagine a novelist and a character in his novel, “Mary.” Imagine a scene in the novel where Mary is sitting on the sofa reading. Then there is a knock on the door. Mary gets up and answers the door. Now, as the novelist is writing, he could put down his pencil at the point where there is a knock on the door, go do something else for three hours, then come back and write that Mary answers the door.

The point Lewis is trying to make is that in Mary’s “world,” absolutely no time has elapsed between the knock on the door and her getting up to answer it. But in our world, three hours have elapsed. The world of the novelist exists “outside of time” with respect to Mary’s world. Mary can “live her entire life,” if you will, and not be affected one bit by the timing of our world (consider, for instance, that the novelist could write the book in three days, or thirty years). In a sense, the novelist is “eternal” in comparison to Mary.

Now, as I said (and as Lewis would have undoubtedly admitted), this example should not be taken too far. First of all, obviously, we know that the novelist is not eternal in the way God is. The novelist is a human being like us. Second, Lewis is not suggesting that God interrupts the natural flow of events in our lives with three-hour breaks. And third, in this example, Mary has no way of really knowing the novelist. He is not revealed to her in any way. But in our case, God has revealed Himself to us in the form of the Bible. The Bible is where we can find out who God is, what He is like (His nature and attributes), and how we can know Him.

Despite these caveats, Lewis’ example has been very helpful to me in sorting out the idea that God is eternal and exists “outside of time” to us. My head still hurts when I think about it too much, but maybe just a little less now.

In closing, I’d say that one area where this example has helped me in a practical sense is the way I think about my future. Like many Christians, I am concerned about following “God’s will” for my life. I want to make God-honoring decisions with respect to my family, church, career, etc. These decisions can be gut-wrenching at times. But Lewis’ example of the novelist and Mary, teamed with the biblical teaching of God as the “I AM” has led me to contemplate what theologians call the “eternal now.” That is, God not only knows my future, He is already there. He is eternally present.

Do you follow what I am saying? God IS two hundred years ago. God IS the day I was born. God IS today. And God IS next week, next month, and next year. He is there. Don’t get me wrong, I am in no way saying that I am merely an automaton with no measure of free will. I believe God has given us that. What I’m saying is that when I face difficult decisions and uncertainties in life—some of which will affect me and my family in very profound ways—I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort, stability, and most of all thankfulness to know that God IS.

March madness

2010-03-15T10:06:00.004-04:00

So, during my brief blogging break, my wife and I took our eight-year old son to see the Harlem Globetrotters. They were making a two-day appearance in Norfolk, Virginia, at the basketball arena at Old Dominion University. They were, of course, playing the Washington Generals, who, according to the five dollar program, had assembled a high caliber team specifically for the purpose of defeating the vaunted Globetrotters. I, of course, was therefore expecting to see the 2008 USA Olympic basketball team walk out onto the court dressed in the green and gold of the Generals. But when the Generals entered the arena, I realized that they must have been going for team chemistry over the big name players.

The game itself was a real barn-burner. The Globetrotters went out to an early lead and seemed to be dominating the action. But then the coach of the Generals was able to place one of the Globetrotters in a trance by using a spinning umbrella. Fortunately for the Generals, he was not called for a technical foul for being on the court during game play. This ruse allowed the Generals to crawl back into the game, since for a brief time, a Globetrotter was in effect playing on their side. The “spell” could only be broken if the Globetrotters made a “great play.” And they could only make a “great play” if the crowd got really loud. Ugh. Sadly, the Globetrotters fell for the umbrella trick—taken, I believe, straight from Dionne Warwick’s Psychic Friends Network—in each of the four quarters of the game.

Despite these and other shenanigans, the Globetrotters held to a comfortable double digit lead in the middle of the fourth quarter. Then, out of nowhere, the Generals stormed back and almost tied the game, frightening the you-know-what out of every child in the arena. But the Globetrotters sealed the deal with an incredible dunk in the final seconds of the game. This time it was the Globetrotters who were fortunate in not being called for a technical foul, because the player making the final dunk held onto the rim for about forty-five seconds, doing a modified gymnastics routine on the rim.

But the Globetrotters had won, and kids (and their parents) were then invited to stand in several long lines to get autographs and pictures of their heroes. I am certain that these keepsakes will end up occupying a cherished place under these children’s beds, right next to their Pokemon cards, the missing styluses to their DS’s, and several dust bunnies.

My Globetrotters experience, quite naturally, left me pondering a few things. First, I remember watching the Globetrotters as a kid on ABC’s Wide World of Sports. But it seemed like the tricks were a lot more spectacular back then as compared to what I saw now. Obviously, this is due to the fact that I was a kid then. But I think there is another factor involved. These days, we are saturated with breath-taking, monstrous dunks. On any given day during basketball season, ESPN shows highlights of many incredible plays. I’m not taking anything away from the great skills of the Globetrotters . . . many of their dribbling and passing routines were amazing. But with the arrival of players like Julius Erving, Michael Jordan, and nowadays LeBron James and Kobe Bryant, the play of the Globetrotters seems a little less spectacular.

My second observation is that, like almost anything else in the entertainment industry these days, the Globetrotters are a marketing machine. You can purchase a Globetrotters basketball for twenty-five bucks (you can, I didn’t). Or a Globetrotters jersey for who knows how much. If parents aren’t careful, they can end up laying out a good chunk of change at such events. In addition to this, I was surprised, while checking out the Globetrotters website beforehand, that there are actually two Globetrotter teams touring simultaneously. I was momentarily incensed that the Globetrotters were actually in Arizona on the day of our game, thinking that our show had been cancelled. But as I read further, I realized that this was the other Globetrotter team, strategically placed on the west coast, I presume, to avoid any unintended encounters with our Globetrotters. That could be embarrassing. At any rate, there are two teams. Twice the fun. Twice the revenue. And trotting the globe twice as fast.

We did end up having a very good family outing, and I made it out of the arena without going bankrupt. In fact, probably the biggest surprise of the day—from a Dad’s perspective—is that there was no charge for parking for the event! That little freebee had me whistling “Sweet Georgia Brown” all the way home!

Quackenblog Spring Break

2010-03-08T09:27:00.005-05:00

To all of my loyal readers: The Quackenblog will be on hiatus this week for "Spring Break." Please re-join me on Monday, March 15th after I have had a chance to "recharge my batteries."

As always, thanks for reading my blog, and I will be back very soon.

Dave

(Really bad) historical jokes

2010-03-05T11:30:00.002-05:00

No profound thoughts today on the way to work. I did get to thinking, though, that it’s going on six months since I started this blog. I wasn’t so sure I’d keep blogging for this long, but alas, here I am. So, let me take a second to send out a sincere and hearty “Thanks!” to everyone who reads my blog. Your interest and response, be it by way of posting comments, emails, or personal contact, is both kind and encouraging.

That said, today’s entry is some light fare. Some of these admittedly (very) bad jokes have been with me since high school. I thought it was high time to get them off of my chest. The questions appear first, and then the answers are below. If you want me to explain any of them, go ahead and leave a comment. And if you read these and feel that I’ve lost any shred of credibility that I otherwise might have earned, well, that’s the risk I take.

So . . . here you go. My attempt at “historical humor.”

1. What did the mathematics professor say when proposing a toast at the National Geometry Association banquet?

2. What did the American sailor say in 1807 when he woke up to find himself on a large, majestic ship of the British Royal Navy with splendidly high masts and brilliantly polished rails?

3. While taking her European history final exam essay, how did Nancy Sinatra describe the German U-Boat strategy in World War II?

4. Staying with “fictional final exams,” how did W.C. Fields explain George Washington’s feelings about having to spend a bitter cold winter at Valley Forge?

------------------------------------------------

Answer 1. “Here’s lookin’ at Eu, -clid.”

Answer 2. “I’m impressed!”

Answer 3. “Das Boot was made for walkin’. And that’s just what it will do. One of these days Das Boot is gonna walk all over you.”

Answer 4. Washington would have said, “On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.”

The Missouri Compromise (March 3, 1820)

2010-03-03T10:14:00.003-05:00

Sometimes in life, compromise is good. Whether it’s at the office, in a marriage, or among friends (or even enemies), compromise can help people recognize common ground, mend wounds, and give all sides a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment.

But sometimes, compromise is merely a means to procrastinate or sidestep very difficult issues. And although both sides might feel temporary satisfaction or success, the underlying problems do not go away. Often, they are left to fester, and ultimately lead to an even worse situation further on down the road.

Take the United States in 1820 as an example. In most respects, things looked very bright for our young nation. First, we had recently emerged from a war with the greatest power in the world, England (the War of 1812), and we had not lost. This was a huge boost to our national confidence and morale. Second, there was a burgeoning, palpable national energy afoot. Citizens were settling the frontier at a rapid pace, and inventions like the cotton gin and steamboat were allowing for exponential growth in production and trade. And third, this was a time known as the “Era of Good Feelings,” a decade-long period where there was a cessation of sorts from the partisan political wrangling that had characterized the pre-War of 1812 scene. Politicians were actually getting along.

In addition to all of this, the potential for national expansion seemed almost limitless as a result of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. In one stroke of a pen and a $15 million payment, the United States had acquired a vast amount of land west of the Mississippi River (830,000 square miles). Lewis and Clark led an expedition to survey this territory, and by the mid-1810s, had published the story of their journey. This further fired the American imagination and soon settlers streamed across the Mississippi.

The story still sounds good, doesn’t it? Well, by 1820, enough settlers had made their way across the great river and it was time for Missouri to apply for statehood. The original thirteen colonies/states had grown to twenty-two by this point. By now, though, lawmakers had begun to see a problem. You see, of the twenty-two states, eleven were “free,” and eleven were “slave.” A delicate balance had developed, and northerners and southerners feared the consequences of upsetting this balance. Southern congressmen thought that if a majority of free states existed, then the North would impose its will to abolish the institution of slavery. Southerners could not let that happen. Northern congressmen, growing increasingly anti-slavery in sentiment, felt just the opposite.

Beginning in 1819, Congress debated the issue of what to do with Missouri for several months. Sectional strife reared its ugly head, as it had at the Constitutional Convention back in 1787, and during the first Congress in 1790. Congress seemed deadlocked.

Then a deal was struck. It just so happened that Maine was preparing to apply for statehood around this time. So Congress made a compromise: Maine would enter the Union as a free state, and Missouri as a slave state. The balance would be preserved—twelve free states and twelve slave states. Everybody could breath easy. What’s more, a “Missouri Compromise Line” was established, extending west from Missouri. In the future, slavery would be prohibited north of that line, and allowed to the south of it. Congress passed the Missouri Compromise on March 3, 1820 . . . 190 years ago today.

So a compromise was struck. Crisis was averted. America continued its “Era of Good Feelings” after this bump in the road. Settlers continued to move to the frontier, canals were constructed, turnpikes were built, steamboats roared down the Mississippi, small mills and factories began to pop up. America was alive.

But of course, this was the type of compromise that ultimately sidestepped the real issue at hand. That issue was whether or not slavery was really compatible with the ideals of the Declaration of Independence, the American Revolution, and the Constitution. The Missouri Compromise mollified all sides for a time, but eventually sectional differences would continue to flare. Eventually the north and the south found it increasingly difficult to compromise. And eventually they went to war (the Civil War) and over 600,000 Americans died. Why? Because two sections of the country could not agree on a myriad of issues, primarily the issue of slavery.

So what do I make of all this? Well, the Missouri Compromise teaches me that compromise is a very tricky thing. Sometimes compromise is appropriate and the right thing to do. At other times, it may seem like the right thing, but it is only a means of punting problems into the future, sometimes even to future generations. For American lawmakers in the first half of the 1800s, discerning this was extremely difficult, because the issue really did boil down to either ending slavery or ending the Union. It was that divisive.

As a history teacher, I firmly believe that the study of history is more than just learning a bunch of facts and figures, and it’s more than just going out to visit your favorite national historic sites. The importance of history is that we can and should learn from it. Studying the way people thought and acted in previous generations should help inform the way we think and act about things.

Because of this, believe it or not, I often pray that God would give me the wisdom to know when to compromise and when not to compromise in day-to-day situations. Heaven knows that I make mistakes. But when I reflect on the Missouri Compromise, I am reminded that there are times to compromise, and times not to compromise, even if I know that negative consequences will ensue.

Words that shouldn’t be

2010-03-01T11:37:00.004-05:00

Well, while I’m on the subject of words, and having proposed a couple of new words that I think we need in the English language, I now proceed to discuss a few words that I often hear that I think fall into the category of “they shouldn’t be words.” Actually, let me express it better—they either shouldn’t be words, or they are kind of senseless, or we are using them in the wrong way.

Drinkability. I hear this word used a lot in a certain beer commercial. If you watched any NFL football this year, or the Olympics, or college basketball, you have no doubt heard of a beer that brags of its “drinkability.” Every time I hear this, I take a mental break from what I’m doing, and I ask: What in the world does that even mean? Are they being serious, or just kidding? The actual definition of drinkability is “suitable for drinking,” as in, beverages have drinkability, whereas petroleum products do not. To say that one beverage has drinkability and another doesn’t is just silly. In my view, we don’t really need this word anyway, because it is just an uppity way of saying “you can drink it.”

Musicality. So I’m watching a countdown show on VH1, “the top 100 songs of all-time,” or something like that. “Experts” share their views on each song, and several state that either the song or the artist has a lot of “musicality.” Wow. What keen insight. Musicality, according to dictionary.com, is “of, pertaining to, or producing music.” The Rolling Stones have musicality. So do the Beach Boys. But I must ask, where do we draw the line and say that a certain artist does not have musicality? The Bay City Rollers? Frank Stallone? William Shatner (he has put out a few “music” albums)? I don’t know. Here’s another one that in my opinion shouldn’t be a word to begin with. Why don’t we just say “it’s music” or “it’s not music” and leave it at that?

Trafficology. On my way to work each morning, a local TV weatherman (meteorologist) does traffic reports on the radio. He signs off by saying, “This is your trafficologist . . .” Trafficologist? Really? I’m thinking to myself, are you telling me that this guy went to an accredited four-year college and got his trafficology degree? What courses are offered in that program? Rubber-necking 101? On-ramps and Off-ramps? Impatient Drivers and their Obscene Hand Gestures? This word does not appear in the dictionary, but when I googled it, I found that it is used in the area of studying web traffic. For our local reporter, I think it is just part of the trend to add “ologist” to anything to make someone sound smarter than sheem is (see last blog entry for explanation of sheem). You know what I mean . . . someone who knows everything about the Beatles is a Beatles-ologist, someone who studies the NCAA Basketball Tournament seedings is a bracketologist, someone who studies pistachio nuts for a living is a pistachiologist, etc.

Workaholic. Here’s a term that I have never liked, for two reasons. First, as with any of the “-aholic” terms (workaholic, shopaholic, chocaholic), it is taken from the word alcoholic. So, in my mind, if an alcoholic is one who is addicted to alcohol, then a workaholic ought to refer to one who is addicted to “workahol.” (I don’t really know what workahol is, perhaps a mixture of work and drinking?) This reason is not that big a deal, though. What bothers me more is the second reason. That is, I find that many people (not all, but many) use the term more as a badge of honor than a serious problem. As an example, I have heard it said that in a job interview, when asked what your weaknesses are, you should say, “Well, my weakness is that I’m kind of a workaholic. I work so hard and am so dedicated to getting the job done, that I will stop at nothing, etc., etc." Get it? You make your weakness actually sound like a strength. And I have heard the term used this way many times in my life. My response (in my head, I’ve never actually voiced it) is, if you’re a workaholic, why don’t you seek medical help or counseling? That’s what an alcoholic would do. So, to conclude, I guess I’m not saying that workaholic shouldn’t be a word, rather I’m suggesting that we could use it in a more correct manner.

Sheem, shim, and hez

2010-02-26T09:07:00.003-05:00

The English language is lacking three words. I have noticed this linguistic gap periodically over the years, and more so now that I am a blogger. But the other day it really came to a head. So I have decided to invent three new words to fill the gap. These new words are sheem, shim, and hez.

Let me explain.

As you recall, in my last entry I was talking about what you should do when approaching a door with a person walking behind you. At what distance are you obliged to hold the door for him or her?

Wait, stop! Look at the last four words of the question I just posed—“for him or her.” The proper construction of the question requires a singular personal pronoun because it refers back to the words “a person” in the previous sentence. Do you follow? Thus, it would be incorrect for me to say “for them” in this instance, because “them” is plural. And I can’t say “for it,” because “it” is not a personal pronoun—“it” refers to things.

I find that in certain situations (my last blog entry being an example), I am constantly having to write “he or she,” “him or her,” or “his or her.” The result, in my view, is writing that becomes repetitive, strained, and even awkward. Why must I continually have to insert two pronouns? Why isn’t there just one pronoun to account for this?

Let me sum up what I am trying to say by posing the problem like this: In the English language, there is no such thing as a singular, personal, but non-gender-specific pronoun. Again, if I am talking in a plural sense, I can use them or they. If I am talking about something that is not a person, I can use it. If I am talking about a male I can use he, and if a female, she. But if talking about a singular person where gender is not specified, I have to use two pronouns—“he or she,” “him or her,” or “his or her.” Are you still with me?

My solution to this problem is to invent three new words: sheem, shim, and hez. They sound funny when you first read or say them, I admit, but I suggest that the reason for this is because they’ve never been used before. Specifically, then, I propose that:

In instances where one would write or say “he or she,” the word sheem shall be used.

In instances where one would write or say “him or her,” the word shim shall be used.

In instances where one would write or say “his or her,” the word hez shall be used.

There are three reasons why I chose sheem, shim, and hez as the new words. First, any pronoun has to be short. Nobody wants to be saddled with pronouns that are two or three syllables, especially when we are all used to I, we, they, him, etc. Second, they need to have a “roll off the tongue” quality, much like our present pronouns. I believe that sheem, shim, and hez have that quality. I can picture young children quite naturally learning their pronouns—I, you, he, she, sheem, it, etc.—without skipping a beat. And third, the new words must have a similar sound to existing pronouns. I believe my new words do. In other words, sheem is a much better candidate to substitute for “he or she” than dup, or something like that.

As a quick example, you might recall that in my last blog entry I wrote the following sentence: “I think it would be nicer if the person just went on his or her way and did not hold the door for me.” Implementing my new words, this sentence would now be: “I think it would be nicer if the person just went on hez way and did not hold the door for me.” Much easier and less cumbersome, don’t you think?

So, do you like this idea? Would you be willing to accept and incorporate three new words into your daily vocabulary to repair this long-festering hole in the English language? I’m just asking you to think about it. Believe me, I wouldn’t force a person to do anything that sheem wouldn’t want to do.

I need a ruling . . . holding the door

2010-02-24T14:19:00.002-05:00

I was surprised to have received quite a bit of feedback and conversation on my last “I need a ruling” segment. If you recall, that entry dealt with what to do when someone has a sneezing fit. Do you keep saying “Bless you” over and over and over? I continue to work on two strategies. One is to have a “two ‘Bless you’” limit, after which the sneezer is on his or her own. The other is to wait until the entire fit is over, then to give one “blanket ‘Bless you’” to cover all the sneezes in the series. I’m not sure which one I like better. I continue to experiment.

Meanwhile, here’s another one that drives me crazy (in terms of the inner torment I incur by thinking of seeming trivialities in such excruciating detail). In a nutshell, the question is: When entering the door of a building/office/store/etc., how far behind you must a person be in order for you to be obliged to hold the door for him or her?

The reason I ponder this is two-fold, really. First, I don’t want to be impolite and not hold a door for a person when I should. Second, though, is that people often hold a door open for me when I am far, far away from the door. I then feel an unspoken compulsion to walk faster to get to the door, grab hold of it, and thank the person. The thing is, I feel a little put out because I’d really prefer to saunter to the door at my own pace. But instead, I have to change what I am doing in order to accommodate someone who is trying to be nice to me. Do you see what I’m saying? In such an instance, I think it would be nicer if the person just went on his or her way and did not hold the door for me.

Think of it this way. If a person was walking three feet behind you, you would not think twice about extending the common courtesy of holding the door. But if a person was one hundred feet behind you, you would not hold the door—the thought of doing so wouldn’t even cross your mind because of the great distance.

Somewhere in between there exists what I call the “ambiguous zone.” For me, it is, say, about twenty to thirty feet. I often find myself approaching a door, knowing that someone is in that area of uncertainty. Questions begin to besiege my mind. Just how far back is the person? Are his hands full? Is he gaining on me, or am I opening on him? Should I ignore his presence back there and just blast through the door on my own? But I don’t want to be rude. If he thinks he is within a fair distance to receive such a courtesy, and I don’t give it, he might think I’m impolite. On the other hand, if I stop to hold the door, and he is further back than I thought, it could be awkward as I stand there, holding the door and waiting.

I have tentatively settled on a rule of thumb of about fifteen to twenty feet (five to seven adult paces) as the maximum distance for holding a door (barring any obvious extenuating circumstances). Anything less than this distance provides a flow of interaction where a courtesy and greeting can be naturally extended. Once you get beyond that distance, things become a bit strained, even awkward, and the courtesy you wish to extend may not even be wanted. But I must admit, even this tentative practice leaves me uncomfortable and uncertain at times.

Well, what do you say? I am overthinking the whole thing, right? There’s really no need to apply this kind of analysis to an event that lasts only a few seconds, is there?

Can I get a ruling on this?

Thirty years ago today

2010-02-22T07:40:00.008-05:00

“What we have here is the rarest of sporting events,” said Al Michaels in his pre-game analysis of the 1980 Winter Olympic hockey game between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. In more recent years, he reflected that the confluence of events leading up to the game was so extraordinary that something like it could never happen again. And I believe he is right about that.

In terms of the game itself, you had the Soviet hockey machine in high gear, mowing down opponent after opponent. A few months before the 1980 games, they came to America to play a series of exhibition games against NHL teams—and routed them. And in another exhibition game just three days before the start of the Lake Placid games, they crushed the U.S. Olympic team 10-3. The U.S. team, though playing in their home country, was not expected to win a medal. The Soviets were expected to win the gold and not be challenged.

But the U.S. went on a roll after a dramatic last-minute goal in their first Olympic game, tying highly favored Sweden 2-2. Buoyed with confidence, the team defeated Czechoslovakia and three other teams to advance to the medal round. Much to everyone’s surprise, they would play the Soviets on February 22, 1980.

Of course, this “extraordinary confluence of events” referred also to the world events that were going on at the time. The Iranian hostage crisis. The Russian invasion of Afghanistan. The American “malaise” and low national self-esteem of the late 1970s. The Cold War was as hot as any time since the Cuban Missile Crisis, and America seemed to be at its weakest. This hockey game just seemed like another area where the U.S. would be embarrassed.

But we all know the story. The U.S. would just not let the game get out of hand, and trailed by only one goal going into the final period. Then two quick goals halfway through the third period sent the Lake Placid crowd into bedlam. The team held precariously to a 4-3 lead to the very end, when Michaels bellowed what is probably the most famous broadcasting call in sports history: “Do you believe in miracles? Yes!”

The victory, and the gold medal (clinched two days later in a victory over Finland) led to a spontaneous outburst of patriotism in America. As team Captain Mike Eruzioine has said, the gold medal didn’t make us win the Cold War, or get the Russians to leave Afghanistan, but it sure did help people to feel proud about their country again. Instead of the constant television images of Iranians burning American flags, we saw people—Americans—enthusiastically waving the flag.

This game took place when I was two weeks shy of my fourteenth birthday, and it has always had a very special place in my memory. I think this is because it happened when I was at an age where I was first “waking up to the world,” in a sense. I was alive during the latter days of the Vietnam War and Watergate, but I was too young to say that I experienced these in a personal way.

But for me, the age of thirteen was when I started to pay attention (a little) to what was happening in the world, and what it all meant for my country. I can remember that the Iranian hostage crisis was the first real international story that I followed on a day-to-day basis, and like most Americans, I found it terribly frustrating. If America was a powerful country that stood for freedom and liberty, then why could we not get our hostages home?

So, I look back at the Miracle on Ice game as the first (of many) real, personal memories of a rekindling of American pride during this era. And while I agree that it had no real effect on ending the international crises of the day, I fondly remember this game, and the gold medal in Lake Placid, as a turning point of sorts for our nation.

Both of my sons enjoy watching the highlights of that game, as well as the various retrospectives and of course the 2004 movie Miracle. One thing I cherish is that I do not have to go to a history book or a highlight reel to reconstruct the magic of the Miracle on Ice game. Rather, I had the privilege to have lived through it as it happened.

A few of my favorite movies, vol. 1

2010-02-19T08:34:00.014-05:00

Thought I’d share a few of my favorite movies with you, and why I like them.

Rocky (1976) – I grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia, and let me tell you, our boring field trips to the Philadelphia Art Museum were never the same after Rocky came out. All of a sudden, we all wanted to go out to the front steps, run up to the top, then strut around with arms raised high, just like Rocky. With all of the caricatures (“Yo! Adrian!”) and cheesy, plot-starved, commercially-driven sequels, it is easy to forget that the original was quite good. It’s hard not to get choked up when Rocky struggles with all his might to pull himself off the canvas in the 14th round.

Chariots of Fire (1981) – One of two movies that I have seen that immediately made me want to be a better Christian (Passion of the Christ is the other). Was there really someone who was so serious about his Christian commitment that he wouldn’t run in the Olympics on a Sunday? Some movies that are based on a true story employ artistic license, but as far as I know, Eric Liddle really did run the 400 meter race in the 1924 Olympics clutching a piece of paper that said “Those who honor Me, I will honor” (1 Samuel 2:30). Very, very inspirational.

The Untouchables (1987) – Great cast with Connery, Costner, DeNiro, etc. My favorite line is repeated throughout by Connery: “What are you prepared to do?” I think this is a question that Christians ought to ask themselves every day (about their Christian life, not about hunting down bootleggers in Chicago). This question was the title of the first sermon that I ever preached.

A Few Good Men (1992) – Okay, everybody together . . . “You can’t handle the truth!” This is a great based-on-a-true-story drama (the real-life lawyer practices in the Norfolk area and runs TV adds with scenes from the movie), with great deliveries by Cruise, Nicholson, Keifer, et al. I have always thought that this movie gives an outstanding portrayal of the institutional and cultural differences between the Navy and the Marine Corps. Many times in my Navy career, as I witnessed this or that situation, I was reminded of this movie while observing the interactions between Marines and sailors.

That Thing You Do! (1996) – Probably in my top 3 of all time. I love the funny little running jokes like the “Oneders,” the small town quaintness, the excitement of the rise of the band, the sentimentality of a first kiss, and the Beatle-esque music. A great depiction of the waning days of innocence before the country went haywire in the mid-late 60s.

Olympic update

2010-02-17T07:53:00.004-05:00

So, are you catching much of the Olympics? I love the Winter Olympics. In fact, I like them better than the Summer Olympics. I think it is because the winter games have a lot of intriguing sports (and I’ll use that term loosely) that you just don’t see every day. Ski jumping, luge, and bobsledding come to mind.

One thing I realize as I watch some of these events is that I have no idea what is going on. But do you really need to know all the in’s and out’s when such riveting competition is taking place? Take the women’s curling competition last night. Now, if you are not aware, curling is a “sport,” fairly popular in Canada and now elsewhere, that combines the toughest and most grueling elements of shuffleboard, walking on an icy driveway, and trying to get a stain off the kitchen floor with a mop. The idea is to get the “stone” in the middle of the bullseye. I sat spellbound as the game between the U.S. and Japan came down to a measurement of which team’s stone was closest to the bullseye. As the judge proceeded to do the deed, one television announcer said to the other, “Now, tell us how they are going to do this.” I thought to myself, “No, first let me take a guess. They’re going to take some sort of ruler-like device, place it on the ice, and measure it. The measurement of lesser value will be the winner. Am I close?”

I also thought it was a lot of fun watching moguls the other night. I understood what the athletes were doing, but I had no idea what the commentators were saying. The course was pretty straightforward: lots and lots of moguls on a steep hill, with two ramps fairly evenly spaced, off of which the skiers would do some kind of spin-flip. Then they skied to the finish, raising both arms in victory regardless of how they did. Of course, I’d do the same thing if I was able to make it to the bottom of that hill. But as I said, the commentators lost me in a sea of euphemisms. Apparently several of the skiers didn’t “form it out” enough. Some “got big” while others needed to “get bigger.” Some of the best ones “got big” and “had a lot of heat,” while others performed with varying degrees of bigness and heat.

At some point I watched some luge, one of my favorites. It’s too bad that the Olympics got off to such a rough start on account of the luge tragedy. But as I watched, I chuckled as the commentator, as if trying to drive home a poignant observation, said that all of the competitors were within a few seconds of one another. Really? Let’s think about this for a second. Every luger (excuse me, “luge athlete”) wears a variation of the same silly, multi-colored one-piece outfit. They all lay flat on their back, on essentially the same device, and go down the same track. Why is it surprising that their times are all almost the same? I’m pretty sure that with a little practice, I could luge down that track and be within at least three seconds of a bronze medal. Except I wouldn’t wear one of those outfits.

Pretty bold claim, huh? Well, enough for now. I’ll keep watching . . . and listening to the coverage that makes it all so crystal clear.

Until next time, Go World!

President’s Day musings

2010-02-15T09:07:00.004-05:00

When I think of John Adams (one of my heroes), I normally think of the John Adams of 1776. In the crucial days leading up to July 4th, he was the undisputed “voice of independence.” While other delegates strolled in and out of Philadelphia, Adams was a constant. His speeches were passionate and persuasive. His expression of thought was crystal clear. His work was tireless (he was on a few dozen committees). He was unflinchingly insistent that declaring independence was the correct course of action. It was no doubt an exhilirating time in his life.

But 1797-1801 was a different story. During these years, John Adams served as the second President of the United States. And what might seem to us to be a pretty nice gig for the Revolutionary era hero turned out to be more of a nightmare.

First of all, Adams had the dubious task of succeeding the enormously popular George Washington (who had been elected to two terms by unanimous electoral vote). Washington was for the most part above criticism. But by the election of 1796, factions had arisen—Federalists and Democratic-Republicans—and the next president would certainly feel the full brunt of the scrutiny and ridicule of his opponents. Adams, a Federalist, was that man, and he indeed felt the fury of Democratic-Republican attacks.

Second, Adams presided over the first major international crisis that the nation faced after winning its independence. And as is the case in many crises, he found himself bereft of friends.

Here’s the crisis in a nutshell:

1. Rival powerhouses England and France were duking it out in the Napoleonic Wars.

2. Both countries took advantage of our young nation by harassing American ships on the high seas.

3. President Washington had declared our neutrality, and dispatched an envoy to England to arrive at a treaty to stop British harassment of our ships (Jay’s Treaty, for all you history buffs).

4. This treaty upset the French.

5. As Adams entered office in 1797, the French stepped up their seizure and confiscation of American ships, and considered declaring war on us.

What ensued has been termed the “Quasi-War” with France, an undeclared war that lasted from 1798-1800. The quasi-war consisted of tit-for-tat harassment of ships between the two nations. And while Adams ordered a speedy ramp-up of naval ship construction and general war preparedness, he held tightly to one important conviction: A conventional, declared war with France must be avoided at all costs. All-out war would cripple our fledgling, infant nation. We were just too weak.

Sounds reasonable, right? Well, as it turns out, in the politically polarized atmosphere of the 1790s, Adams soon found himself very alone.

Consider first his Vice President and old “Spirit of ‘76” buddy Thomas Jefferson. They were friends, right? Well, not exactly. Not at this point, anyway. Jefferson was actually a Democratic-Republican who opposed Adams and the Federalists on practically every major issue of the day. What’s more, while serving as Vice President, Jefferson wrote some pretty nasty things about Adams in letters to friends, and with a hidden hand orchestrated a smear campaign against Adams in the press.

(By the way, notice how President Adams and Vice President Jefferson were of different political factions. This was the case because back then, when electing a President, the second-place finisher became Vice President. Fortunately that has changed. Imagine, for example, if President Bush’s VPs had been Al Gore and John Kerry.)

What about his own “party,” the Federalists? Well, as Adams tried to walk the tightrope of preparing for, yet staying out of declared conflict, Federalists, led by Alexander Hamilton, began to beat the war drums rather loudly. And they too began to skewer Adams.

What about the American public? Sometimes a President can take his case directly to the people. Well, for Adams, there was no such luck. War fever swept across the country with news of French provocations (remember the XYZ Affair?) and fears of a thousand French warships coming over the horizon to invade American shores.

So, everywhere Adams turned, he was opposed. The Quasi-War with France ended in 1800, and all-out war had not been declared. But the whole experience was an extremely unpleasant one for Adams. On Inauguration Day 1801, when Thomas Jefferson was sworn in as our third President, Adams left Washington D.C. early in the morning, under cover of darkness, to return home to Massachusetts, miserable and dejected.

Oh—one more note about Adams and the Quasi-War. Nowadays, historians generally agree that Adams did exactly the right thing by avoiding war with France. By all reasonable accounts, a war with France—or any major world power—would have destroyed our infant nation that was just learning to crawl, let alone walk.

So, as they say, what does all of this have to do with the price of tea in China? Well, when I reflect on John Adams and the crisis with France in the 1790s, it reminds me that sometimes in life when you take a stand for what is right, you will be resolutely opposed from all sides. People who you thought of as friends all of a sudden won’t be. Those who you think would most assuredly agree with you don’t. Those who should be able to see the harmful effects of a bad course can’t. You stand vulnerable to undue criticism and even ridicule. And you suffer a lot of rejection and loneliness.

I admire John Adams for a lot of reasons. He was not a perfect man, nor a perfect President (the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798 are a noted black mark on his presidency, for instance). But he certainly was one of the greats. This President’s Day, I am thankful that he was willing to “stick to his guns” under the most trying of circumstances, in order to, in a very real sense, save us from ourselves.

What do you know?

2010-02-12T08:58:00.003-05:00

I left off the other day posing the question of whether bees eat honey, or if they merely make honey. The question was prompted by the James Taylor lyric, “How sweet it is to be loved by you . . . just like honey to the bee, babe.” I said that perhaps the lyric should be, “just like honey to the human.”

My sister, a budding bee-keeper, informed me that bees indeed eat honey in addition to making it. Thus it would appear that the lyric is okay. But in order to be fully satisfied in my mind, I have to ask one more question. Sure, bees eat honey. But do they think that honey is sweet? For if bees consider honey to be sweet, then the lyric of the song is totally appropriate—your love for me is so sweet, it’s “just like honey to the bee, babe.” But if bees don’t think honey is sweet, well, then the lyric just doesn’t work.

Now, here is where I transition from silliness to serious thoughts.

How can we ever know if bees think that honey is sweet? They can’t speak to us to confirm it. They have no other ways of direct communication. I’m going to suggest that we can’t know for sure if bees think honey is sweet. But I admit I’m not a scientist, nor a bee-ologist. I suppose it’s possible to run some scientific experiments, or make some inferences based on human or bee behavior, that could help us answer this question. But ultimately, we can’t get inside a little bee-brain and know for sure whether the bee thinks that honey is sweet.

Regardless of the answer to the bee/honey question, contemplating this idea led me to another thought, and admittedly, it is not original. That is, despite our high level of technology and advanced scientific know-how, there are some things that just can’t be known by way of science. The bee/honey situation is a silly instance, but let me give you another, more serious example of what I mean.

Suppose I were to ask: How did the universe come into existence? Many, perhaps most, might answer that a few billion years ago there was a “big bang” that set in motion the natural forces and processes that started the universe. I would then ask: Okay, well, what caused the big bang? And one might come up with an explanation. But I would then ask: Well, what caused that? And so on, and so on.

You see, scientific theories such as the big bang, evolution, etc., may or may not be true, but one thing they can’t do is allow us to know how it all started. We can always go back one more step in “history” and ask how that event occurred. (All this, by the way, is basically one of Thomas Aquinas’ arguments for the existence of God, which he postulated back in the 13th century. God is the “first mover.”)

Obviously, science can be very useful. I tend to be a fan of science, especially when I have a bad headache and need to pop a few Tylenol, or whenever the use of a combustible engine makes my life easier. But it has its limits. There are some things that we just can’t know through science.

As you know from reading my blog, I am a Christian. I believe in God. I believe that God created the universe. It probably wouldn’t surprise you to know that in my life, I have spoken to people who do not believe in God, and feel that the idea of a supernatural creator is a fairy tale, or a crutch for intellectual laziness, or not in keeping with established scientific “facts.” But when I think about what honey tastes like to the bee, or what caused the alleged big bang, or the mysteries of the nonmaterial parts of a human being (like the soul), I come to the conclusion that science can give only limited answers. To me, it makes just as much sense, if not more, to think that there is a Creator who made the universe and governs and preserves it, than to think that a big bang just happened one day for no apparent reason.

Of course, if one believes in a God who created and sustains the universe, then there is another inescapable and sometimes uncomfortable question: If there is such a God, how should I relate to Him?

Stupid song lyrics . . . “Almost Stupid, Vol. 1”

2010-02-10T07:44:00.002-05:00

For those who may be new to reading my blog, I do a special segment on the second Wednesday of the month called “Stupid Song Lyrics.” For previous episodes, click on “Stupid Song Lyrics” on the label cloud on the right column.

This month I focus on lyrics that I place in the category of “almost stupid.” Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. But if they are not, they are pretty close. As always, enjoy.

1. John Denver, Sunshine on My Shoulders: “Sunshine almost always makes me high.”

My compliments to the late John Denver for not painting himself into a corner. For, if he had not inserted that all-important caveat “almost,” we might be led to think that any time the sun was shining, Denver was “high.” This could lead to obvious misunderstandings as well as possible criminal trouble. But he has cleverly given himself an “out.” I picture the following situation . . . “No officer, sunshine almost always makes me high. I’m fine now, I swear.”

2. Bruce Springsteen, Glory Days:

Saw him the other night at this roadside bar,
I was walking in, he was walking out.
We went back inside, sat down, had a few drinks,
But all he kept talking about was . . . Glory Days.

Whoa, hold on a second. There’s a logical disconnect here. If you were walking in, and he was walking out, then you both couldn’t have gone “back inside,” because you had not been inside in the first place. Unless, unmentioned in the lyrics, you went inside initially, remembered that you needed something out of your car, went out to get it, and on your way back in met your old friend. Then you both could legitimately be said to be going “back inside.” I hope this helps clear things up.

3. The Police, Don’t Stand So Close to Me:

It’s no use, he sees her, he starts to shake and cough,
Just like the, old man in, that book by Nabokov.

You’ve all read that book by Nabokov, right? I haven’t, and given the subject matter, I’m not sure I'd recommend it. Regardless, I’m guessing that this literary reference goes right over the heads of most victims of American public school education.

It’s no use, I’m stupid, I just say, “What the heck?”
Just like that, dumb guy in, that book by John Steinbeck.

4. At the end of James Taylor’s “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You),” Taylor repeats the title line several times, and he throws in some heartfelt statements each time. One of them is:

How sweet it is to be loved by you . . . just like honey to the bee, babe.

This line raises a very significant question in my mind. That is, do bees eat honey, or do they just make honey? I always thought that bees only make honey, they don’t eat it. People eat honey, and it is very sweet. Therefore, shouldn’t the line be: “just like honey to the human, babe?” In other words, the sweetness of your love for me is like the sweetness of honey that I taste (and that the bee manufactures). The next time you hear this song on the way to work and find yourself singing along, try my “honey to the human” line and see what you think. Actually, I’m going to defer to my sister on this question because she is a bee keeper. Do bees eat honey, or do they just make honey? Regardless, I think Taylor could have done a better job of avoiding such ambiguity at the end of one of my favorite songs of his.

Follow-up entry: "Febate in Virginia"

2010-02-08T12:18:00.002-05:00

Febate in Virginia

On Febate I’m dreaming of plenty of snow,
A blizzard, and not just a little, you know.

‘Cause when we get several inches or more,
The schools will be closed and we rush to the store

For all of the things that we need to survive,
Like popcorn and movies that keep us alive.

And all of us sit near the fire so warm
And have so much fun as we wait out the storm.

But most of the time it’s just cold freezing rain,
And only enough to engender a pain

For workers like me who must trudge on to work
Through miserable roadways and slippery murk.

For blizzards, you see, are occasional treats,
When “deepo” reality governs the streets.

Febate (February 8th, pronounced “Feb-8”)

2010-02-08T07:28:00.004-05:00

I was fortunate to be raised in a home where there was a lot of jocularity and good humor. I can remember a lot of good times that were really just based on everyone in my family acting nonsensically silly.

One such occasion happened on February 8th. I forget the year, though I am reasonably certain that it was in the early 1980s, when I was a teenager. Growing up in Pennsylvania, the beginning of February was always the time of the winter doldrums. I can remember battling through many snow storms right around this time of year. But even when there was no snow, there were always a lot of icy roads and very, very cold temperatures. And it seemed as though it would never end. Spring seemed so distant.

So, one year, my father designated February 8th as the mid-point of winter. I’m not sure how he calculated it, but he asserted that “Febate” was the date when the winter was at its deepest, darkest, and drabbest. (Maybe it is the midpoint between the first day of winter and first day of spring?)

To “celebrate” Febate, he composed a limerick commemorating the day, lamenting the cold weather and the insurmountable journey back to warm weather, and put it on the refrigerator for all of us to see.

My first reaction to the poem was that it was cute, and that it was just another one of Dad’s silly shenanigans. Much to my surprise, though, one of my sisters responded in kind with a limerick of her own, and displayed it on the fridge. Then one of my other sisters wrote one. At some point I joined in also, and we ended up with a group of poems on the refrigerator, all commemorating this self-manufactured day of observance. The tradition continued for a year or two as I recall, but faded as all of us kids (four in my family, three sisters and me) went to college.

When I think of our Febate poems, my thoughts go to a bigger question. That is, I wish I had saved more stuff from my childhood. I don’t think we still have any of the Febate poems (if we do, and my family wants to post any of them, that would be wonderful). But whether it was poems, or pictures, or cassette tapes, I occasionally will have a memory and think, “I wish I still had that.” Not that I don’t have some memorabilia from my childhood—I do. But if I had known that I would have these thoughts in my forties, I would have saved a whole lot more of that stuff.

But I am thankful for keepsakes that I did save, and more so for the good times and the good memories. And, I have been surprised as an adult to find out that some “stuff” that I wish I had saved has in fact been kept by my parents or sisters. As a quick example, one of my brothers-in-law recently told me that someone in the family has a cassette recording of me as an eight-year old, doing a mock play-by-play of a hockey game. I’ve got to get to the bottom of that one. That would certainly be a cherished personal artifact, and maybe it’s not too late to get it transferred to compact disc for further preservation.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy Febate today, and with all of the monster snow storms this year, I hope we head into warmer weather sooner rather than later.

Talkin’ ‘bout their generation . . .

2010-02-05T08:03:00.003-05:00

I have given you a number of long entries lately, so I will try to keep this one short and sweet.

The Who will play at halftime of the Super Bowl on Sunday. Of course, they’ve been around for a while. Pete Townshend turns sixty-five this year. Roger Daltrey will turn sixty-six in a few weeks. John Entwistle and Keith Moon are both dead, so I guess they won’t be there. But I have to hand it to them. These old men will be rockin’ up there on the stage, energetically, and I presume without the aid of canes, walkers, or surgically replaced hips or knees.

Whenever I see The Who performing these days, as old men, I am reminded of their 1965 hit “My Generation.” Here are some of the lyrics:

“People try to put us down, just because we get around,
The things they do look awful cold, I hope I die before I get old.”

and . . .

“Why don’t you all just fade away? Don’t try to dig what we all say.”

There were other such sentiments floating around at the time. Take, for example, the Rolling Stones’ 1966 hit “Mother’s Little Helper,” where Mick Jagger constantly repeats the line, “What a drag it is getting old.” Or perhaps the 1960s catch-phrase “Don’t trust anyone over thirty.”

So when I hear these songs or see these performers these days, I wonder what they think now . . . now that they themselves are old. Have they mellowed a bit? Have they shed any of their former contempt for the generation that preceded them? (You know, the generation that defeated Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito.) Are they willing to accept that some from the younger generation(s) might have the same disdain for them that they had toward their parents? And, how has their generation measured up to previous generations in the annals of history (say, for example, the generation that produced George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, etc.)? Of course, Pete Townshend never thought he would be in this position. He was hoping that he would die before he ever got to this point of his life.

I don’t know what the answers to these questions are. But I do ponder them.

News report: Super Bowl LXXXV (April 2, 2051)

2010-02-03T04:00:00.009-05:00

** Sports section: Wednesday, March 29, 2051 **

This Sunday marks the 85th Super Bowl, pitting the AFC Champion Miami Dolphins against the EFC Champion Madrid Caballeros. The game will be played in the fourth brand new Cowboy’s Stadium in Arlington, Texas (USA), which holds just over 225,000 seats. As always, a sellout is expected, and it should be a gala event.

The Dolphins advanced to the Super Bowl (their eleventh appearance in team history) by defeating the CFC Champion Toronto Argonauts, 32-17 in a March 18th semi-final. The Caballeros are making their first trip to the Super Bowl, after edging the NFC Champion Los Angeles Seahawks 27-24 in the other semi-final. The Dolphins are seven point favorites.

Here are some of the top story lines as we head into Sunday’s epic gridiron clash.

This is the first time that the Super Bowl will be played in April, which has been lauded with acclaim by the League despite a few murmurs of protest that the season "is just getting to be too long." The big game is being pushed into April as a result of the new, expanded, 12-week play-off format, which was agreed to back in 2045 when the Canadian Football Conference (CFC) and European Union Football Conference (EFC) joined the NFL. League officials noted that similar concerns were raised when the Super Bowl was first played in February (in 2002), and in March (in 2034). “Quite frankly,” quipped NFL Commissioner LeBron Remington, “our goal is to some day see the Super Bowl played in July or even August, with only a short break in-between seasons. Let’s face it, NFL football is the most important thing in America on Sundays, so why not give people what they want each and every Sunday of the year?”

In a related story, there has been some mild criticism over the fact that the Super Bowl is being played on Easter Sunday. In an interview last week, Commissioner Remington defended the league’s decision, even extending an olive branch to concerned persons of faith. He said, “Perhaps this is an area where the NFL could work in tandem with the religious community. After all, when you get right down to it, what is the real meaning of Easter anyway? Isn’t it that everyone is happy and that children get candy? These are core values that the NFL shares with people of faith. Maybe for the time being we could just join forces, seeing as we are so closely aligned in terms of seeking the best in personkind. We could call the combined holiday ‘Super Bowl Sunday,’ and everybody could take Monday off!”

The game will be broadcast live worldwide on all sixteen of ESPN’s extended family of round-the-clock sports networks. In addition, the University of California at Berkeley will beam the game into outer space. This is part of a $680 million project funded by the 2050 BESP (Bi-annual Economic Stimulus Package). Dr. Philip Rogers, chair of the Aeronautics and Space Department at Berkeley, noted that while the project will create no jobs, and that it is almost certain that no extraterrestrial life will see the Super Bowl, the project will allow the university to apply for increased funding in the 2052 BESP.

As always, the anticipation surrounding the Super Bowl commercials is just as great as the anticipation for the game itself. Of note, for the first time in seven years, this Sunday there will be a Super Bowl commercial with no nudity. The ad is for Hardee’s new Thickburger, cheese fries, and malt liquor combo meals. Hardee’s Vice President Lebron Williamson tried to downplay any controversy, saying, “There may be no nudity, but the ad does contain three sexual innuendos, so we are not departing from the mainstream too much. There’s certainly no need for Hardee’s to get Tebowed for airing some supposed ‘ultra-conservative’ commercial, or anything like that.”

As usual, the Pro-Bowl (the NFL’s annual all-star game) was played last Sunday (March 25th), a week prior to the Super Bowl. Many in the media jokingly dubbed this as “Palm Super Bowl Sunday,” an obvious reference to the game being played on Palm Sunday, but also because of the latest tradition of fans tossing NFL throwback uniforms onto the field for the players to step on as they emerge from the locker rooms. What was unusual about this year’s contest was that two Super Bowl players played in the Pro Bowl game. (Note: Ever since the Pro Bowl was moved to the week before the Super Bowl way back in 2010, most selectees from Super Bowl teams sit the game out, not wanting to risk injury.) The two players who participated are Dolphins outside linebacker Lebron Lee-Harrison and Caballeros wide receiver Chaz QuatroCincoSeis. When asked if his Pro Bowl appearance would make him too tired to play in the Super Bowl, QuatroCincoSeis pulled out a Sharpie pen and began to write illegible chicken scratch all over the reporter’s shirt. Then he pulled out a fifty dollar bill, ripped it in half, threw it in the air, and left the room, unleashing a stream of expletives on his way.

And finally, this year’s halftime concert is certain to be a classic. For the first time in almost twenty years, ‘N Sync will perform live together with their original lead singer, Justin Timberlake. Timberlake, who turned seventy earlier this year, jokes that there will be no “wardrobe malfunctions” during the show—a reference to his then-controversial halftime performance with the late Janet Jackson in 2004 (when Timberlake was twenty-three!). Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but there really was a time when that sort of thing was deemed controversial. Also, for obvious reasons, Timberlake vows to make no references to his rumored romantic relationship with his old friend, sixty-nine year old Britney Spears-Alexander-Federline-Johnson-James-O’Donnell-DiCaprio-Madonna-Beckham-Smith-QuatroCincoSeis.