The Christian Year

This is from John Keble, one of the men from the Oxford Movement. This is a poem he wrote for the second Sunday in Advent. Enjoy.

And when these things begin to pass, then look up, and lift up your
heads; for your redemption draweth night.  St. Luke xxi. 28.

Not till the freezing blast is still,
Till freely leaps the sparkling rill,
And gales sweep soft from summer skies,
As o'er a sleeping infant's eyes
A mother's kiss; ere calls like these,
No sunny gleam awakes the trees,
Nor dare the tender flowerets show
Their bosoms to th' uncertain glow.

Why then, in sad and wintry time,
Her heavens all dark with doubt and crime,
Why lifts the Church her drooping head,
As though her evil hour were fled?
Is she less wise than leaves of spring,
Or birds that cower with folded wing?
What sees she in this lowering sky
To tempt her meditative eye?

She has a charm, a word of fire,
A pledge of love that cannot tire;
By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars,
By rushing waves and falling stars,
By every sign her Lord foretold,
She sees the world is waxing old,
And through that last and direst storm
Descries by faith her Saviour's form.

Not surer does each tender gem,
Set in the fig-tree's polish'd stem,
Foreshow the summer season bland,
Than these dread signs Thy mighty hand:
But, oh, frail hearts, and spirits dark!
The season's flight unwarn'd we mark,
But miss the Judge behind the door,
For all the light of sacred lore:

Yet is He there; beneath our eaves
Each sound His wakeful ear receives:
Hush, idle words, and thoughts of ill,
Your Lord is listening:  peace, be still.
Christ watches by a Christian's hearth,
Be silent, "vain deluding mirth,"
Till in thine alter'd voice be known
Somewhat of Resignation's tone.

But chiefly ye should lift your gaze
Above the world's uncertain haze,
And look with calm unwavering eye
On the bright fields beyond the sky,
Ye, who your Lord's commission bear
His way of mercy to prepare:
Angels He calls ye:  be your strife
To lead on earth an Angel's life.

Think not of rest; though dreams be sweet,
Start up, and ply your heavenward feet.
Is not God's oath upon your head,
Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed,
Never again your loans untie,
Nor let your torches waste and die,
Till, when the shadows thickest fall,
Ye hear your Master's midnight call?

What's the point?

Ok, I have a confession to make. It my spare time (which is not very much just at the moment) I've been watching "The Vampire Diaries". I don't know if it is just a Twilight knock off or not, but this is what I don't get: the vampires are "good". I think the trend started with Angel from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"--you know, the soft, good natured, sensitive guy who just happened to suck human blood to stay alive. Then came "Interview with a Vampire" and who can't sympathize with Brad Pitt? Then Twilight came out, and vampires could stand in the sun and be beautiful instead of be burnt. And in the Vampire Diaries, as in Twilight, the "good" vampires are "vegetarian", that is, they eat animal blood instead of human blood to stay alive. They sleep in beds, not coffins. They don't drink human blood. They can eat garlic and stand in the sun... like I said in the title: What is the point? What is the point of having a vampire show if the vampires are not actually vampires? I feel like we need a little Bram Stoker's "Dracula" to remind us that vampires are supposed to be terrifying creatures of the night who prey on human life without remorse or pity. They are supposed to inspire terror, not teenage angst! Argh...

Ok, rant done. Of course, the simply solution is: ignore Twilight hype and stay away from bad TV. Point taken.

Machiavelli, Power and the Princess Bride

Augustine once famously pictured the state as a lawless pirate. Like a pirate, governments use coercive force to get their own way. Unlike a pirate, the state is powerful enough to do so without any bad consequences. Except for divine grace, the evil effects of the state would overwhelm mankind. Thankfully, divine grace intercedes and makes governments tolerable.
When Machiavelli wrote The Prince in 1513, he basically agreed with Augustine and took the theory one step further. Governments, according to Machiavelli, are entirely based upon power. All states are pirates. Especially the “good” ones. The trick is to appear to be good and virtuous on the outside, but be bad and manipulating on the inside. In fact, the more vicious you are in reality, the more important it is for you to appear pious and peace loving. Once you’ve fooled the majority of people, they will happily support you. Furthermore, even if you are pious and peace loving, you ought to learn how to be savage and dishonourable in order to survive. Thus, Machiavelli redefines virtue for the modern world: Virtue is the combination of abilities that allows you to survive. It has nothing to do with being good or moral, only with using force well. Machiavelli also points out that all the states which have survived have in fact already been doing this, whether they realized it or not. If you unmask even the most virtuous state, he says, you’ll find... a pirate––ruthless, corrupt, and power hungry.
This empirical observation has been oft repeated in books of political theory ever since. Yet one contemporary book powerfully challenges the Machiavellian thesis. William Goldman’s The Princess Bride (1973) contends that Machiavelli did not probe deep enough into the heart of humanity. In Goldman’s novel we are presented with the cruel Dread Pirate Roberts. He is a man who never allows prisoners to survive. He can out-fence and out-wrestle the greatest fighters on earth, showing his mastery of coercive force, and he can “go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line” and live to tell the tale, demonstrating his adeptness at manipulation and intrigue. Truly, this is a depiction of corrupt humanity in all its bloody glory. Yet, when the Dread Pirate Roberts is unmasked, the reader is shocked to discover that beneath the rapacious exterior lies the love-stuck, virtuous Wesley who gently whispers “As You Wish.”
Is this the death of Machiavelli? The virtuous state conceals the swashbuckling pirate, it is true. But is that the end of the story? Perhaps beneath the savage mask of piratey coercion lies the softly beating heart of True Love. Thus do we find layer upon layer.
With the empirically demonstrated link between the drop in number of pirates and the increase in global average temperature (see graph below), it is an environmental imperative that we do all that is within our power to encourage further political involvement, especially amongst apathetic Canadians. More politics means more pirates. More pirates means cooler global climes. We can save the planet and, thanks to the Goldman thesis, rest secure that the increase in piratical political activists will be under-girded by love. Huzzah!

Of Cosmic Miracles

I've been trying something new lately.

Autumn is coming here in Vancouver, and you can feel it. No really, you can! It drops down from the sky and smacks you in the face and stays with you for hours as your body heat slowly dries up the damp. In short, the rain is back.

We've been spoiled this summer with an excessively sunny season. It has been hot, dry, and cloudless nearly all summer. It was so bad that trees were dying because these BC folks have forgotten (as you do when you live in a rain forest) that if there is no rain you actually have to water trees to keep them alive.

Anyways, the rain is back, and people are complaining. So I've been trying something new. Every time someone looks annoyed and mentions "it's raining again..." I let a glazed, dreamy expression settle over my face with a half-smile, as if I'm remembering how my first crush made me feel when he smiled at me. Then I mumble "Yeah, isn't it great?" Typically I get a really weird look in response, wondering whatever could I mean, that this cold, wet, and gloomy reality is back. If they ask a question, they are in for it...

"It's a freaking cosmic miracle!" I explain "The very thing we need for life, liquid water, which is only liquid within fantastically small temperature ranges, is FALLING FROM THE SKY!... This is like better than money, or BBQed pork (for all you Lamb readers out there), or gold, or... or... pretty much anything! (although actually, beer would be pretty cool falling from the sky, though everything would be pretty sticky...). Pure water is falling from the sky for free! Do you know how rare this is? It's awesome!"

By this time, they are usually smiling quizically and saying "I've never thought of it that way" and they walk off with hopefully a little more gratitude in their hearts for the miracle they have just witnessed.

Random act of kindness for the day: check!

School begins again...

I always feel like September is a time for new birth. New life. It is the real New Year in the student calendar. It is a time to recommit to devoting oneself to study. You make promises about how much you'll accomplish, and hope that you'll last just a little longer than last year before breaking them.
Everyone comes back from the summer, rested, renewed, and excited. New people come, and you always know that there will be new friends and old friends, and joyful meetings and boring repetitions of answers to the same three questions over and over and over again.
New paper, new books, and sharp pencils. Everything is made new.

Did I mention that I love September and the start of school?

This year, I am looking forward to a couple of things in particular. I am in a seminar that will be amazing. On political thought. I've spent the last couple weeks immersed in Aristotle's Politics and it was been amazing.

I am also looking forward to Anglican communion and mid-day prayers at the college. I think the loss of my daily communal prayer time has been one of the greatest losses of my summer. The structure of prayer is vital for my undisciplined self, and those daily refocussings help me to get out of myself. Especially the communion liturgy.
I always thought that liturgy would be boring, but I find that coming to the same words when you can be in such different places is a great gift. Some weeks I am bored, others I am distraught and stressed, others I am joyful. But the words remain the same, and so each week is like seeing it from a different perspective. Then, after, we go for lunch and talk about theology, politics, personal lives, the Anglican church, and whatever else.

I'm glad that school is starting again. Please, remind me of this in early November.

Torture and the Brave New World

I remember reading Frank Herbert's "Dune" series, and being somewhat morbidly impressed by the "pain box" which could cause unbearable pain without leaving any mark. Now, this has become a reality. The Silent Guardian has been produced to impose unbelievable pain by slightly microwaving pain nerves at exactly their most sensitive frequency. Can this really be considered by police forces?
The maker insists that there is no permanent damage, and that no one will stand more than a second of the agony. The plans for this, the very thought of it should be banished from the human mind. In today's world, the only apparent rule for torture is "don't leave a mark". This inflicts unbearable pain, and yet the person will never be able to "show" it later. Even worse, it is not limited to one particular spot on the body, but can encapsulate the entire body in agony, like being dipped in a pot of boiling oil, but without death to bring relief.

Of all the demonic inventions, I have yet to see anything that can equal this in its potential for injustice, cruelty, and hate.

At the moment, the beam is not held for long, and it seems that a little movement from the beam's path relieves the burning feeling. But it is just to use such a thing? What if (when?) it is abused? It could, indeed, save lives. But at what cost?

My New Favourite Term:

Sheeple.