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A Deep Satisfaction
By Dwight Swanson
J R R Tolkien noted, somewhere in his essay On Faery Stories (an article that people who want to produce films of Tolkien’s works should read before filming), that happy stories are soon told. He proved it to himself (at least) when he tried to start writing a continuation of The Lord of the Rings story. His attempt, titled ‘The New Shadow’, picks up some 105 years after the downfall of Sauron, with a new Evil already rising, but disappears down a dark path after just a few pages (see The Peoples of Middle-Earth, Volume 12 of ‘The History of Middle Earth’ edited by Christopher Tolkien). Happiness cannot last long, according to Tolkien’s Augustinian anthropology, and there is not much to tell about it beyond the most unrealistic ‘They lived happily ever after’.
I note this simply to mention to readers that the main reason little has appeared here recently is due to this factor: happy stories are soon told. (Which makes a pleasant change from depression as a cause…)
The happy story? My youngest, my daughter, has married. The day was wholly a joy, from the last minute crises of the morning before the ceremony, to the intimate service, to the last dance by the radiant bride.
And it brought together our children and grandchildren for ten days. As a Trans-Atlantic grandfather, it is difficult to find a joy greater than that of having a 3 year-old throw her arms around his legs, saying ‘Gra-a-and-pa!’; and having her say ‘Tighter’ as we hugged each other good-bye. And, we all sat together evenings, talking around the dinner table (usually the garden round-table, no matter the weather), simply enjoying being together.
And the Groom? He sang a love-song to his bride for his after-dinner speech. He sang of his love for my daughter. I have no doubt of it.
There is no ‘happily ever after’ in real life, if that means life without sorrow or difficulties. But, having just marked 36 years of marriage—going on 40 years of friendship—I can confirm that the deepening of love through difficulties and sorrow does mean there is long-lasting joy in committed love to one person.
May you have ‘joy-ever-after’, my young lovers!
After Whirlwind Rachel
J R R Tolkien noted, somewhere in his essay On Faery Stories (an article that people who want to produce films of Tolkien’s works should read before filming), that happy stories are soon told. He proved it to himself (at least) when he tried to start writing a continuation of The Lord of the Rings story. His attempt, titled ‘The New Shadow’, picks up some 105 years after the downfall of Sauron, with a new Evil already rising, but disappears down a dark path after just a few pages (see The Peoples of Middle-Earth, Volume 12 of ‘The History of Middle Earth’ edited by Christopher Tolkien). Happiness cannot last long, according to Tolkien’s Augustinian anthropology, and there is not much to tell about it beyond the most unrealistic ‘They lived happily ever after’.
I note this simply to mention to readers that the main reason little has appeared here recently is due to this factor: happy stories are soon told. (Which makes a pleasant change from depression as a cause…)
The happy story? My youngest, my daughter, has married. The day was wholly a joy, from the last minute crises of the morning before the ceremony, to the intimate service, to the last dance by the radiant bride.
And it brought together our children and grandchildren for ten days. As a Trans-Atlantic grandfather, it is difficult to find a joy greater than that of having a 3 year-old throw her arms around his legs, saying ‘Gra-a-and-pa!’; and having her say ‘Tighter’ as we hugged each other good-bye. And, we all sat together evenings, talking around the dinner table (usually the garden round-table, no matter the weather), simply enjoying being together.
And the Groom? He sang a love-song to his bride for his after-dinner speech. He sang of his love for my daughter. I have no doubt of it.
There is no ‘happily ever after’ in real life, if that means life without sorrow or difficulties. But, having just marked 36 years of marriage—going on 40 years of friendship—I can confirm that the deepening of love through difficulties and sorrow does mean there is long-lasting joy in committed love to one person.
May you have ‘joy-ever-after’, my young lovers!
§ ¶ 
default - 
one comment - 04 08 08
I Need My Miracle Today!
Mixed Review on the Church
By Dwight Swanson
An invitation came through the letter slot this week to attend the inauguration service of a new church. Such invitations are frequent in this part of town, and ongoing evidence of a most interesting phenomenon in the British religious scene—the invitation comes from an African-originating church. The missionary nation is now on the receiving end of a new missionary movement.
There is a refreshing vigour in this proliferation of new churches. They are significant evidence of the dynamic nature of Christian faith. Just at the time when the established media are gleefully proclaiming the impending death of the Church, and the irrelevance of religion, on the basis of statistics gathered for the major old-line denominations, these congregations operate ‘below the radar’. People may not be sitting in the pews of the established church, but that does not mean churches are empty everywhere!
And they have fantastic names [see picture]!
The gospel, that is, the good news that God has acted for our sake in Jesus Christ to save humanity from its violent self-destructive tendencies, is not contained by the religious forms of any age; the Spirit of God cannot be held in a monopoly by any human agency. Throughout the history of the Church, whenever any branch of said Church—or human power—has attempted to command and control it, renewal has come from unexpected quarters. The shift of the gravity of Christianity from the West to the South, and particularly Africa, is a phenomenon not yet seriously taken on board by the West—either Church, State, or Media. The story of Christ is not a European story, and the current decline in Europe does not, as is commonly held in public places in Britain, equate to the end of the story. (more)
Is it a Church?
An invitation came through the letter slot this week to attend the inauguration service of a new church. Such invitations are frequent in this part of town, and ongoing evidence of a most interesting phenomenon in the British religious scene—the invitation comes from an African-originating church. The missionary nation is now on the receiving end of a new missionary movement.
There is a refreshing vigour in this proliferation of new churches. They are significant evidence of the dynamic nature of Christian faith. Just at the time when the established media are gleefully proclaiming the impending death of the Church, and the irrelevance of religion, on the basis of statistics gathered for the major old-line denominations, these congregations operate ‘below the radar’. People may not be sitting in the pews of the established church, but that does not mean churches are empty everywhere!
And they have fantastic names [see picture]!
The gospel, that is, the good news that God has acted for our sake in Jesus Christ to save humanity from its violent self-destructive tendencies, is not contained by the religious forms of any age; the Spirit of God cannot be held in a monopoly by any human agency. Throughout the history of the Church, whenever any branch of said Church—or human power—has attempted to command and control it, renewal has come from unexpected quarters. The shift of the gravity of Christianity from the West to the South, and particularly Africa, is a phenomenon not yet seriously taken on board by the West—either Church, State, or Media. The story of Christ is not a European story, and the current decline in Europe does not, as is commonly held in public places in Britain, equate to the end of the story. (more)
§ ¶ default - No comments - 22 06 08
A TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER-IN-LAW
By Dwight Swanson
Early last Monday morning my wife’s mother quietly slipped away from this life. The phone call from the US with the news was not a surprise; as ever, when such a call comes, the loss is felt just as deeply as if it was.
Look at the picture above and you can get a glimpse of the trademark twinkle in her eyes. They would easily crinkle into laughter—tightly shut but streaming with tears, shoulders shaking silently, with occasional whooping intakes for breath. This mode of hilarity is the inheritance of my wife and all my children. In her latter years she had learned the art, or received the gift, of taking things as they came and not worrying about tomorrow.
It had not always been this way; hers had not been an easy life.
She was happily married for twenty-five years when her husband died suddenly. She married within six months and her stable life descended into disorder. Her money was soon spent; the new man moved from job to job, and town to town. My wife-to-be changed schools eight times one year; and learned to dread the sound of her step-father’s steps for many years.
It was not long after I met my future wife (we were very young) that her mother gathered the resources to end the marriage. The two moved into a tiny house. Mom worked hard hours, putting together camping trailers (caravans) by day, repairing sewing machines from home by night. Weekends were devoted to social life, seeking companionship. Ironically, during our dating years we teenagers found ourselves wondering when the Mom would get home…they were lonely years for her.
Just months after we married, Mom married again; nearly twenty-five years until her husband’s death. He grew increasingly crippled with arthritis (product of a rough-and-tumble rodeo cowboy life) and plagued by unbearable headaches. In these years we saw the change take place to the more relaxed person described above. This coincided with her return to the church of her early years, and to the ‘rest of faith’ in the God she had grown away from after the death of my wife’s father. Life was not necessarily easier—six years ago she nearly died when her car was hit broad-side and a head injury dealt a blow to her memory—but she met everything with calm. And ready humour.
Say ‘mother-in-law’, and wry jokes come to mind. I have been privileged to have had a mother-in-law who was not a joke, but ready to laugh. And she is already sorely missed. Today, as she is laid to rest beside her husbands, we give thanks for her life.
1919 - 2008
Early last Monday morning my wife’s mother quietly slipped away from this life. The phone call from the US with the news was not a surprise; as ever, when such a call comes, the loss is felt just as deeply as if it was.
Look at the picture above and you can get a glimpse of the trademark twinkle in her eyes. They would easily crinkle into laughter—tightly shut but streaming with tears, shoulders shaking silently, with occasional whooping intakes for breath. This mode of hilarity is the inheritance of my wife and all my children. In her latter years she had learned the art, or received the gift, of taking things as they came and not worrying about tomorrow.
It had not always been this way; hers had not been an easy life.
She was happily married for twenty-five years when her husband died suddenly. She married within six months and her stable life descended into disorder. Her money was soon spent; the new man moved from job to job, and town to town. My wife-to-be changed schools eight times one year; and learned to dread the sound of her step-father’s steps for many years.
It was not long after I met my future wife (we were very young) that her mother gathered the resources to end the marriage. The two moved into a tiny house. Mom worked hard hours, putting together camping trailers (caravans) by day, repairing sewing machines from home by night. Weekends were devoted to social life, seeking companionship. Ironically, during our dating years we teenagers found ourselves wondering when the Mom would get home…they were lonely years for her.
Just months after we married, Mom married again; nearly twenty-five years until her husband’s death. He grew increasingly crippled with arthritis (product of a rough-and-tumble rodeo cowboy life) and plagued by unbearable headaches. In these years we saw the change take place to the more relaxed person described above. This coincided with her return to the church of her early years, and to the ‘rest of faith’ in the God she had grown away from after the death of my wife’s father. Life was not necessarily easier—six years ago she nearly died when her car was hit broad-side and a head injury dealt a blow to her memory—but she met everything with calm. And ready humour.
Say ‘mother-in-law’, and wry jokes come to mind. I have been privileged to have had a mother-in-law who was not a joke, but ready to laugh. And she is already sorely missed. Today, as she is laid to rest beside her husbands, we give thanks for her life.
§ ¶ default - four comments - 25 05 08
Good Friday Meditation
The Paradox
By Dwight Swanson
Good Friday. Good for business; the streets full of people willing themselves against the piercing winter wind to take advantage of this extra day for spending money. Yet, a sprinkling among the throng is enough to fill the churches of the city centre. There are those who seek, this day, to pray.
The heart of worship on this day is the death of a man—
though death comes to thousands every day.
It was a brutal death—
though brutality is common to human passing.
He was an innocent man—
and death comes seldom enough to those who are deserving.
I sat in the cathedral quire, awaiting the start of the service. A child behind me asked endless questions of her mother; three blue-rinse ladies in front of me chatted over whatever they had to chat; a frail and elderly man next to me spoke of having come to this cathedral many times. We sat amongst the stalls, the paraphernalia of 700 years of worship about us, the weight of innocent blood the theme of our gathering. And we chatted as though this was a common-place; as though violent death is a casual subject.
Perhaps, just so casually, the crowds chatted on that Friday.
We walk the way of the cross. It matters not that this is not Jerusalem, where fellow-worshippers walked that way today. The well-trodden path of the Stations is little closer to the actual there than here. The story is the same. From arrest in the Garden, to mockery of judgement before Pilate. A cross is carried before us, and we touch it, even kiss it, in devotion to the convicted prisoner. We stand before the cross on Golgotha. We cannot grasp why this death matters so much. But we know we are drawn up in the reality of this death.
There is no blood here, only wine. No torn flesh, only bread.
We are drawn up into this reality. Drawn up with this unpresupposing and threatless cross are the brutal and violent deaths of the innocents of our world. Iraq, Congo, Sudan, Columbia, the Holy Land. And tragic and unexplainable deaths, like that of our Chief Superintendent of Police, whose book of remembrance stands in the side-chapel. Many remember him well, none understand why. Another man dies; there is no clear reason. His, too, is drawn up in this day.
‘Having loved his own who are in the world, he loved them to the end.’ So says the Gospel of John. The love of a Father for his Son is played out in full in this sad death. The love of a Son for his world is sealed in the only way this world seems to imagine—by killing. He loved to the end.
But, this is not a termination. Not the snuffing out of hope. It is the goal of love, the purpose of love. In this death the violence and brutality of ‘sinful men’ is laid bare, and their power sucked out. Derided. Impotent. Visionless. Empty.
The mystery of this death lies in this power. The Church wields great power, and controls great riches; but diminishing power, and questionable wealth. Her power, too, is empty. Apart from the particular and painful reality of the death of one man; the brutal, violent, and unjust death of a son of God.
The mystery of this death lies in powerlessness. This paradox lies at the heart of story of Jesus. Justice comes through injustice; victory comes through defeat; life comes through death. No other way that either human society or the Church attempts can achieve a thing. Only when a grain of seed falls into the ground is there resurrection.
Do not mourn today. Look to the sign of Lazarus.
Good Friday. Good for business; the streets full of people willing themselves against the piercing winter wind to take advantage of this extra day for spending money. Yet, a sprinkling among the throng is enough to fill the churches of the city centre. There are those who seek, this day, to pray.
The heart of worship on this day is the death of a man—
though death comes to thousands every day.
It was a brutal death—
though brutality is common to human passing.
He was an innocent man—
and death comes seldom enough to those who are deserving.
I sat in the cathedral quire, awaiting the start of the service. A child behind me asked endless questions of her mother; three blue-rinse ladies in front of me chatted over whatever they had to chat; a frail and elderly man next to me spoke of having come to this cathedral many times. We sat amongst the stalls, the paraphernalia of 700 years of worship about us, the weight of innocent blood the theme of our gathering. And we chatted as though this was a common-place; as though violent death is a casual subject.
Perhaps, just so casually, the crowds chatted on that Friday.
We walk the way of the cross. It matters not that this is not Jerusalem, where fellow-worshippers walked that way today. The well-trodden path of the Stations is little closer to the actual there than here. The story is the same. From arrest in the Garden, to mockery of judgement before Pilate. A cross is carried before us, and we touch it, even kiss it, in devotion to the convicted prisoner. We stand before the cross on Golgotha. We cannot grasp why this death matters so much. But we know we are drawn up in the reality of this death.
There is no blood here, only wine. No torn flesh, only bread.
We are drawn up into this reality. Drawn up with this unpresupposing and threatless cross are the brutal and violent deaths of the innocents of our world. Iraq, Congo, Sudan, Columbia, the Holy Land. And tragic and unexplainable deaths, like that of our Chief Superintendent of Police, whose book of remembrance stands in the side-chapel. Many remember him well, none understand why. Another man dies; there is no clear reason. His, too, is drawn up in this day.
‘Having loved his own who are in the world, he loved them to the end.’ So says the Gospel of John. The love of a Father for his Son is played out in full in this sad death. The love of a Son for his world is sealed in the only way this world seems to imagine—by killing. He loved to the end.
But, this is not a termination. Not the snuffing out of hope. It is the goal of love, the purpose of love. In this death the violence and brutality of ‘sinful men’ is laid bare, and their power sucked out. Derided. Impotent. Visionless. Empty.
The mystery of this death lies in this power. The Church wields great power, and controls great riches; but diminishing power, and questionable wealth. Her power, too, is empty. Apart from the particular and painful reality of the death of one man; the brutal, violent, and unjust death of a son of God.
The mystery of this death lies in powerlessness. This paradox lies at the heart of story of Jesus. Justice comes through injustice; victory comes through defeat; life comes through death. No other way that either human society or the Church attempts can achieve a thing. Only when a grain of seed falls into the ground is there resurrection.
Do not mourn today. Look to the sign of Lazarus.
§ ¶ default - two comments - 21 03 08
So, Torture is OK, then
Bush Rides Again
By Dwight Swanson
US President George W Bush has vetoed the bill passed by the Congress to outlaw waterboarding in interrogation of suspects. This was against the advice of his military advisors (see here. I have chosen a local US newspaper to avoid any suggestion that the story is presented bya biased source).
In searching for a visual idea of what the technique might look like, the Editor came across a pictorial catalogue of the instruments used by the Khmer Rouge (remember the genocidal Commies?)
Perhaps the President thinks attention is so keenly focussed on the Democratic nomination contest that he can continue his reactionary policies unnoticed. This must not slip through the American consciousness. It is amazing that the man could stand on the steps of the White House beside former POW, tortured in captivity, John McCain on one day, and the next day argue in favour of torture. There is no euphemism that can be used for this technique. It is torture. And, it must be roundly rejected by all candidates for the presidency of the United States. And, by all Americans.
What will you say, America?
Waterboarding Technique via Khmer Rouge
US President George W Bush has vetoed the bill passed by the Congress to outlaw waterboarding in interrogation of suspects. This was against the advice of his military advisors (see here. I have chosen a local US newspaper to avoid any suggestion that the story is presented bya biased source).
In searching for a visual idea of what the technique might look like, the Editor came across a pictorial catalogue of the instruments used by the Khmer Rouge (remember the genocidal Commies?)
Perhaps the President thinks attention is so keenly focussed on the Democratic nomination contest that he can continue his reactionary policies unnoticed. This must not slip through the American consciousness. It is amazing that the man could stand on the steps of the White House beside former POW, tortured in captivity, John McCain on one day, and the next day argue in favour of torture. There is no euphemism that can be used for this technique. It is torture. And, it must be roundly rejected by all candidates for the presidency of the United States. And, by all Americans.
What will you say, America?
§ ¶ default - No comments - 08 03 08
The Management Delusion
Part 2: The Business of the Church is…Business?
By Dwight Swanson
‘Silent Cal’, that is, Calvin Coolidge, 30th President of the United States from 1923-29, used to be one of my heroes—simply for being ‘silent’. Growing up in a period of American history where presidents have spent their efforts with one eye to their historical significance, there was something nostalgically inviting about the idea of a president who did little.
Coolidge’s most famous words, however, indicate that his relaxed attitude to government was related to a satisfaction that everything was fine as it was. His words? ‘The chief business of the American people is business. They are profoundly concerned with buying, selling, investing and prospering in the world.’
His confidence in ‘business’ to get on by itself soon proved empty, as the Great Depression intruded on American, and world, business in the 1929 Stock Market crash.
Coolidge’s oft repeated words are a fair depiction of American self-consciousness through its history; certainly through the 19th Century. Both Mark Twain, in his little known The Gilded Age, and Charles Dickens, in an interval of Martin Chuzzlewit, paint a rough and unpretty picture of American business in the era of expansion. And little seems to have changed.
Therefore, it is not particularly surprising to observe that the American Church tends to see itself in terms of business; that is, ‘with buying, selling, investing and prospering’. One can look, for instance, at the financial portfolios of the major denominations to see the importance of business-expertise in running the church. More recently, and naturally in much more visible and demonstrative fashion, the Evangelicals have been displaying acute business acumen. See this report.
link (more)
‘Silent Cal’, that is, Calvin Coolidge, 30th President of the United States from 1923-29, used to be one of my heroes—simply for being ‘silent’. Growing up in a period of American history where presidents have spent their efforts with one eye to their historical significance, there was something nostalgically inviting about the idea of a president who did little.
Coolidge’s most famous words, however, indicate that his relaxed attitude to government was related to a satisfaction that everything was fine as it was. His words? ‘The chief business of the American people is business. They are profoundly concerned with buying, selling, investing and prospering in the world.’
His confidence in ‘business’ to get on by itself soon proved empty, as the Great Depression intruded on American, and world, business in the 1929 Stock Market crash.
Coolidge’s oft repeated words are a fair depiction of American self-consciousness through its history; certainly through the 19th Century. Both Mark Twain, in his little known The Gilded Age, and Charles Dickens, in an interval of Martin Chuzzlewit, paint a rough and unpretty picture of American business in the era of expansion. And little seems to have changed.
Therefore, it is not particularly surprising to observe that the American Church tends to see itself in terms of business; that is, ‘with buying, selling, investing and prospering’. One can look, for instance, at the financial portfolios of the major denominations to see the importance of business-expertise in running the church. More recently, and naturally in much more visible and demonstrative fashion, the Evangelicals have been displaying acute business acumen. See this report.
link (more)
§ ¶ default - three comments - 03 01 08
The Management Delusion
Part One: A local story
By Dwight Swanson
One of the myths that remains a prevalent affect of the Thatcher era is that the solution to all problems can be found in management. This is a corollary of privatisation and free-market liberalism—that private business management is better because such managers are keen to make a profit.
The Thatcher government pressed a vigorous policy of privatisation in which large swathes of public services were sold off to private enterprise: telephones, utilities, the rail network, etc. Astonishingly, when New Labour came in, it revealed an inexplicable fascination with this project, and extended it further, to education and the health service. The clear belief has been that the only way any institution can work is by application of principles of management based on the profit motive.
The recent shake-up of senior management in a number of rather prominent banks on both sides of the Atlantic—with billions of dollars/pounds lost in the mother-of-all-gambling games—should be a wake-up call to someone that private sector management is capable of making much bigger mistakes than public sector management has opportunity to make. And, that, when given free-market rein to spend other people’s money, these managers will over-reach themselves on unimaginable scales.
Let me be clear that I am most aware that good management is essential to the healthy functioning of any institution that involves more than one person. My point of contention is with the ideology that management is the solution to all problems, which follows from the prior faith in the open market.
This story, in my own home town, (here ) shows where such practice leads. There was great public support for the large increases in budget given to health and education over the past decade of Labour management. But, with the passing of time, it has become clear that the funds have not gone where most needed—to health workers and teachers. Instead, the money went to bring in managers, who—we were assured—needed to have salaries incumbent with those they would receive in the private sector. (more)
One of the myths that remains a prevalent affect of the Thatcher era is that the solution to all problems can be found in management. This is a corollary of privatisation and free-market liberalism—that private business management is better because such managers are keen to make a profit.
The Thatcher government pressed a vigorous policy of privatisation in which large swathes of public services were sold off to private enterprise: telephones, utilities, the rail network, etc. Astonishingly, when New Labour came in, it revealed an inexplicable fascination with this project, and extended it further, to education and the health service. The clear belief has been that the only way any institution can work is by application of principles of management based on the profit motive.
The recent shake-up of senior management in a number of rather prominent banks on both sides of the Atlantic—with billions of dollars/pounds lost in the mother-of-all-gambling games—should be a wake-up call to someone that private sector management is capable of making much bigger mistakes than public sector management has opportunity to make. And, that, when given free-market rein to spend other people’s money, these managers will over-reach themselves on unimaginable scales.
Let me be clear that I am most aware that good management is essential to the healthy functioning of any institution that involves more than one person. My point of contention is with the ideology that management is the solution to all problems, which follows from the prior faith in the open market.
This story, in my own home town, (here ) shows where such practice leads. There was great public support for the large increases in budget given to health and education over the past decade of Labour management. But, with the passing of time, it has become clear that the funds have not gone where most needed—to health workers and teachers. Instead, the money went to bring in managers, who—we were assured—needed to have salaries incumbent with those they would receive in the private sector. (more)
§ ¶ default - No comments - 18 11 07
Featured article
Russia, Bad; Georgia, Good
Repeat Until Convinced
By Dwight Swanson
The first news reports showed Georgian rocket launchers outside the South Ossetia town of Tskhinvali, aiming into the ostensible capital of the region. The Gazelle Editor has to depend, like the rest of the world, on what the media publish or broadcast; but this was the BBC, which has maintained the most balanced reporting of the major Western network suppliers of news. The reports appeared alongside those of the opening of the Olympics, where the world watched George W (‘W’hat will you do when the phone rings at 3 am) Bush have a little chat with Vladimir S (‘S’o much for Georgia) Putin that obviously resolved matters. At least, ‘W’ must have thought so, because he stayed on to pat the back sides of some American swimmers (so it seems)
It was only the next day that scenes of Russian advances into South Ossetia were seen, followed by scenes of their advances into Georgia, smoke rising over the town of Gori.
Smoke rising over civilian populations is never a reassuring sight.
It was only at this point of the reporting that the Georgian president introduced the explanation that he was responding to a Russian advance. Something seemed a little fishy about this to the Editor. (more)
The first news reports showed Georgian rocket launchers outside the South Ossetia town of Tskhinvali, aiming into the ostensible capital of the region. The Gazelle Editor has to depend, like the rest of the world, on what the media publish or broadcast; but this was the BBC, which has maintained the most balanced reporting of the major Western network suppliers of news. The reports appeared alongside those of the opening of the Olympics, where the world watched George W (‘W’hat will you do when the phone rings at 3 am) Bush have a little chat with Vladimir S (‘S’o much for Georgia) Putin that obviously resolved matters. At least, ‘W’ must have thought so, because he stayed on to pat the back sides of some American swimmers (so it seems)
It was only the next day that scenes of Russian advances into South Ossetia were seen, followed by scenes of their advances into Georgia, smoke rising over the town of Gori.
Smoke rising over civilian populations is never a reassuring sight.
It was only at this point of the reporting that the Georgian president introduced the explanation that he was responding to a Russian advance. Something seemed a little fishy about this to the Editor. (more)
§ ¶ linkdump - No comments - 17 08 08
On my own doorstep
The Latest in Crime
By Dwight Swanson
Hardly a day goes by now without news of knife crime. So far this year 16 teenagers have been murdered by knife-wielding youths in London alone. The level of concern this registers is evidenced by the thousands who turned out for a march against knife killings just yesterday. Nowhere are knives more common, sadly, than Manchester.
Slashing out seems to have become the first response to differences of opinion. Showing a knife is certain to ‘gain respect’.
The police rang my doorbell yesterday. It seems that in the early hours of Saturday morning a young man was accosted by another with a knife on the street in front of our house. He was brought onto our property, and made to sit down on our porch steps—at knife-point. And robbed.
No injury. But, the latest crime-fad has found its way to our doorstep. While I was soundly asleep. Should I be afraid? Or, profoundly sad?
An ordinary doorstep.
Hardly a day goes by now without news of knife crime. So far this year 16 teenagers have been murdered by knife-wielding youths in London alone. The level of concern this registers is evidenced by the thousands who turned out for a march against knife killings just yesterday. Nowhere are knives more common, sadly, than Manchester.
Slashing out seems to have become the first response to differences of opinion. Showing a knife is certain to ‘gain respect’.
The police rang my doorbell yesterday. It seems that in the early hours of Saturday morning a young man was accosted by another with a knife on the street in front of our house. He was brought onto our property, and made to sit down on our porch steps—at knife-point. And robbed.
No injury. But, the latest crime-fad has found its way to our doorstep. While I was soundly asleep. Should I be afraid? Or, profoundly sad?
An ordinary doorstep.
§ ¶ linkdump - two comments - 08 06 08
Race against Obama
and The Rest of The World
By Dwight Swanson
The US presidential election is a riveting spectacle for The Rest of the World (TROTW). As usual, we all look on with impotent vested interest, because we know that, by an unfortunate oversight of the American Founding Fathers, only US citizens are allowed to vote for the person whose policies will have direct influence for good—or, as has too often been the case lately—for ill on TROTW. And we are scared. Because we know that Americans will vote for local reasons, and care little what their choice means outside their own tax demand. And, we will pay the cost, as well. (Sounds something close to ‘taxation without representation’.)
But, of course, the Gazelle Editor is not really part of TROTW; I am, indeed, amongst the Chosen, a US citizen, though I have not lived in the US since the year of Reagan’s first election. I have never voted by absentee ballot, believing that living outside the US meant I did not have an adequate basis to make an informed choice. However, the past two elections, and time spent in the US this Winter, have emboldened me to believe that my distance actually offers perspective that the 24/7 media coverage obliterates for those trying to make an informed decision inside the cauldron.
Most of TROTW has been bowled over by Barak Obama—just like thousands of young people in the US who have previously ignored politics as irrelevant to their lives. His rhetorical power dazzles, of course. But, almost anyone who can string a coherent sentence together is a pleasure after 8 years of Bush's dyslalia* and Hillary Clinton shopping-list prose. Clinton, who had TROTW on her side at the beginning, has lost virtually all sympathy by her tactics against Obama. McCain, on the other hand, hardly registers on any scale, except to be seen as Republican business-as-usual. He might be given the benefit of the doubt—unless the Republicans play the race card to fight Obama.
And, it is clear they already are.
The focus of this attack is indirect, of course, via attention on Rev Jeremiah Wright, his pastor for twenty years. The question is repeatedly asked, ‘How can you trust someone who listened to his sermons for twenty years?’ And, no matter how often Obama replies, they just keep asking. Here is what it looks like from a distance:
There are two things that people who wish to get beyond the media hype need to do. The first is to listen to the whole of Rev Wright’s sermons, and not just the sound-bites that are incessantly repeated. In doing so, they might find some surprising realities. Here is a complete sermon. (And, on this week’s antics: The Door, the inimitable magazine of Christian dissent, gives useful insight)
Wright’s call after 9/11 for self-examination should appeal to right-praying Evangelical Christians. I myself preached a sermon at that time—having been given the lectionary reading from the prophet Jeremiah—asking if this wasn’t a call to America to do some soul-searching to find an answer to that frequently heard question, ‘Why do they hate us?’. and then to respond to the reasons that were not hard to find, rather than by lashing out blindly in violence.
The response of the Christian right was a rather strange and contradictory mix. Those who followed Jerry Falwell chose to see 9/11 as a judgement, too—but a selective judgement, not against good Christian Americans, but rather against gay Americans and supporters of gay marriage (God works in mysterious ways). (As a student of the Old Testament, I have noticed that God’s judgement on nations, as evidenced in the prophets, is not selective. The arrows and swords of the armies of God’s judgement do not discriminate between the ‘good guys’ and the ‘bad guys’.)
Others simply seemed to accept the President’s explanation that America is hated because of our freedom. Any hint of American culpability as a factor leading to the vengeance of the terrorists became not only un-American, but un-Christian.
There is a combination of at least three unfortunate traits of the Christian right (in this regard) that prevents them from being able to hear sermons like Wright’s: one, a patriotic knee-jerk defensiveness; two, ignorance of what their leaders—and more to the point, their businesses—do outside her own borders; and, three—sadly—the fact that they live at such a distance from black people, or virtually any minority race. And TROTW. Two out of three for ignorance.
The second thing to do to get beyond the media hype is to read Barak Obama’s own response to the more extreme rhetoric of his one-time pastor. The speech he gave the week following the first attack on Jeremiah Wright by the media deserves to be read by every voter, as well as by TROTW.
Clinton asks the question of who we want to be at the end of the presidential telephone at 3 a.m. It is a good question. Does the world want Hillary the Heroine of the Bosnian airport attack? Or, someone who can write such a speech—without the aid of speech-writers—under such pressure.
Will the racists win this election?
*Like dyslexia, but of the tongue.
Do you see a black man?
The US presidential election is a riveting spectacle for The Rest of the World (TROTW). As usual, we all look on with impotent vested interest, because we know that, by an unfortunate oversight of the American Founding Fathers, only US citizens are allowed to vote for the person whose policies will have direct influence for good—or, as has too often been the case lately—for ill on TROTW. And we are scared. Because we know that Americans will vote for local reasons, and care little what their choice means outside their own tax demand. And, we will pay the cost, as well. (Sounds something close to ‘taxation without representation’.)
But, of course, the Gazelle Editor is not really part of TROTW; I am, indeed, amongst the Chosen, a US citizen, though I have not lived in the US since the year of Reagan’s first election. I have never voted by absentee ballot, believing that living outside the US meant I did not have an adequate basis to make an informed choice. However, the past two elections, and time spent in the US this Winter, have emboldened me to believe that my distance actually offers perspective that the 24/7 media coverage obliterates for those trying to make an informed decision inside the cauldron.
Most of TROTW has been bowled over by Barak Obama—just like thousands of young people in the US who have previously ignored politics as irrelevant to their lives. His rhetorical power dazzles, of course. But, almost anyone who can string a coherent sentence together is a pleasure after 8 years of Bush's dyslalia* and Hillary Clinton shopping-list prose. Clinton, who had TROTW on her side at the beginning, has lost virtually all sympathy by her tactics against Obama. McCain, on the other hand, hardly registers on any scale, except to be seen as Republican business-as-usual. He might be given the benefit of the doubt—unless the Republicans play the race card to fight Obama.
And, it is clear they already are.
The focus of this attack is indirect, of course, via attention on Rev Jeremiah Wright, his pastor for twenty years. The question is repeatedly asked, ‘How can you trust someone who listened to his sermons for twenty years?’ And, no matter how often Obama replies, they just keep asking. Here is what it looks like from a distance:
There are two things that people who wish to get beyond the media hype need to do. The first is to listen to the whole of Rev Wright’s sermons, and not just the sound-bites that are incessantly repeated. In doing so, they might find some surprising realities. Here is a complete sermon. (And, on this week’s antics: The Door, the inimitable magazine of Christian dissent, gives useful insight)
Wright’s call after 9/11 for self-examination should appeal to right-praying Evangelical Christians. I myself preached a sermon at that time—having been given the lectionary reading from the prophet Jeremiah—asking if this wasn’t a call to America to do some soul-searching to find an answer to that frequently heard question, ‘Why do they hate us?’. and then to respond to the reasons that were not hard to find, rather than by lashing out blindly in violence.
The response of the Christian right was a rather strange and contradictory mix. Those who followed Jerry Falwell chose to see 9/11 as a judgement, too—but a selective judgement, not against good Christian Americans, but rather against gay Americans and supporters of gay marriage (God works in mysterious ways). (As a student of the Old Testament, I have noticed that God’s judgement on nations, as evidenced in the prophets, is not selective. The arrows and swords of the armies of God’s judgement do not discriminate between the ‘good guys’ and the ‘bad guys’.)
Others simply seemed to accept the President’s explanation that America is hated because of our freedom. Any hint of American culpability as a factor leading to the vengeance of the terrorists became not only un-American, but un-Christian.
There is a combination of at least three unfortunate traits of the Christian right (in this regard) that prevents them from being able to hear sermons like Wright’s: one, a patriotic knee-jerk defensiveness; two, ignorance of what their leaders—and more to the point, their businesses—do outside her own borders; and, three—sadly—the fact that they live at such a distance from black people, or virtually any minority race. And TROTW. Two out of three for ignorance.
The second thing to do to get beyond the media hype is to read Barak Obama’s own response to the more extreme rhetoric of his one-time pastor. The speech he gave the week following the first attack on Jeremiah Wright by the media deserves to be read by every voter, as well as by TROTW.
Clinton asks the question of who we want to be at the end of the presidential telephone at 3 a.m. It is a good question. Does the world want Hillary the Heroine of the Bosnian airport attack? Or, someone who can write such a speech—without the aid of speech-writers—under such pressure.
Will the racists win this election?
*Like dyslexia, but of the tongue.
§ ¶ linkdump - two comments - 04 05 08
Christians in Iraq Mourn
By Dwight Swanson
Seldom noted in discussion of the Iraq invasion and war is the impact it has had on the Christians of Iraq. Where once they lived safely and peacefully alongside the majority Muslim population, all Christians are now viewed as part of a foreign and Western religion. Thousands of Christians have fled Iraq in the past five years. Those who remain are under suspicion and threat.
On February 29 the Archbishop of Mosul was kidnapped, his driver and two body guards were killed. The story never made the front page of the news. On Thursday of this week he was found dead.
Let us mourn this loss, with the Christians of Iraq. And let us pray daily for them as they seek to live with the consequences of the war they did not ask for.
Archbishop Dies after Kidnap
Seldom noted in discussion of the Iraq invasion and war is the impact it has had on the Christians of Iraq. Where once they lived safely and peacefully alongside the majority Muslim population, all Christians are now viewed as part of a foreign and Western religion. Thousands of Christians have fled Iraq in the past five years. Those who remain are under suspicion and threat.
On February 29 the Archbishop of Mosul was kidnapped, his driver and two body guards were killed. The story never made the front page of the news. On Thursday of this week he was found dead.
Let us mourn this loss, with the Christians of Iraq. And let us pray daily for them as they seek to live with the consequences of the war they did not ask for.
§ ¶ linkdump - No comments - 16 03 08
Sacred Cows
The Fascination of India
By Dwight Swanson
The editor is just back from three weeks in India, in the city of Bangalore.
It is impossible to epitomise India in a single photo, and undoubtedly unfair to characterise the nation with the photo of a ‘sacred cow’. Yet, on this visit they seemed more abundant than on previous trips; and, usually nosing through the rubbish.
India is a place of immense fascination, endless diversity, and stark contrasts. It is the fascination which draws visitors, the diversity which keeps them coming back; but the contrasts which overwhelm.
The educational institution where I was based runs a hostel, and my group observed a wide range of people coming and going: student groups; retired people; development conferences; theologians.
Apart from the development people, who were all Indians, the other groups exhibited a common manner of development during their stay. First, for those in India for the first time, is the shock of the poverty; after a few days, talk of contrasts with ‘home’ give way to pure fascination with the ‘otherness’ of what is experienced; by the end of a week several of each group will be wearing a salwar kameez or kurta (saris are far too complicated for the Westerner!). Others go further.
In one small student group, one girl not only adopted the salwar form of dress, but shaved her head as well. And, I saw one of the northern European feminist theologians joining a Hindu wedding procession, dancing with the ladies as the procession made its way down the road.
India is fascinating. Right down to holy cows rummaging in the rubbish.
The editor is just back from three weeks in India, in the city of Bangalore.
It is impossible to epitomise India in a single photo, and undoubtedly unfair to characterise the nation with the photo of a ‘sacred cow’. Yet, on this visit they seemed more abundant than on previous trips; and, usually nosing through the rubbish.
India is a place of immense fascination, endless diversity, and stark contrasts. It is the fascination which draws visitors, the diversity which keeps them coming back; but the contrasts which overwhelm.
The educational institution where I was based runs a hostel, and my group observed a wide range of people coming and going: student groups; retired people; development conferences; theologians.
Apart from the development people, who were all Indians, the other groups exhibited a common manner of development during their stay. First, for those in India for the first time, is the shock of the poverty; after a few days, talk of contrasts with ‘home’ give way to pure fascination with the ‘otherness’ of what is experienced; by the end of a week several of each group will be wearing a salwar kameez or kurta (saris are far too complicated for the Westerner!). Others go further.
In one small student group, one girl not only adopted the salwar form of dress, but shaved her head as well. And, I saw one of the northern European feminist theologians joining a Hindu wedding procession, dancing with the ladies as the procession made its way down the road.
India is fascinating. Right down to holy cows rummaging in the rubbish.
§ ¶ linkdump - one comment - 27 01 08
The Occasional 135
The Routines that Save
By Dwight Swanson
Much of what we do in life is routine: we repeat the same actions over and over in the same way. Routine actions are not meant to draw attention; they are meant to happen over and over without thought. When our routines in life draw attention to themselves, we usually identify them as ‘dull routines’. They are dull because they do not excite. They are not meant to excite—they simply serve to assist daily life in going on smoothly. Routines should not be disparaged as ‘dull’, because they are not meant to be anything else. Of course, when we speak of dull routine we are really saying that life has become reduced to no more than that of routine action, devoid of interest or excitement. And, we expect human life to have an element of interest or excitement.
So, we look for ways to add excitement to our lives. The most common ways appear to be: going to clubs; exotic holidays; drugs and alcohol.
Once we find something that is interesting or exciting we then try to replicate that interest over and over again. As with Hollywood and cinema sequels, we think that if a formula works once it should work over and over. But, once we repeat the excitement a few times it, too, becomes a routine. Then, to get over the new dull routine, we have to add a new level of excitement. A tragic example of this appears to be the case of the recent sex and drug-related murder in Pelugia.
But I wish to praise routine for its life-saving virtues. (more)
Much of what we do in life is routine: we repeat the same actions over and over in the same way. Routine actions are not meant to draw attention; they are meant to happen over and over without thought. When our routines in life draw attention to themselves, we usually identify them as ‘dull routines’. They are dull because they do not excite. They are not meant to excite—they simply serve to assist daily life in going on smoothly. Routines should not be disparaged as ‘dull’, because they are not meant to be anything else. Of course, when we speak of dull routine we are really saying that life has become reduced to no more than that of routine action, devoid of interest or excitement. And, we expect human life to have an element of interest or excitement.
So, we look for ways to add excitement to our lives. The most common ways appear to be: going to clubs; exotic holidays; drugs and alcohol.
Once we find something that is interesting or exciting we then try to replicate that interest over and over again. As with Hollywood and cinema sequels, we think that if a formula works once it should work over and over. But, once we repeat the excitement a few times it, too, becomes a routine. Then, to get over the new dull routine, we have to add a new level of excitement. A tragic example of this appears to be the case of the recent sex and drug-related murder in Pelugia.
But I wish to praise routine for its life-saving virtues. (more)
§ ¶ linkdump - five comments - 12 11 07
