X
I can feel myself getting into a dust-up over Church tradition/apostolic succession over at Disputations. Rather than act the troll over there, I’ve decided to transplant my consternation over here, to my home turf.
What got me going was this following parenthetical barb, tossed off by Tom as a kicker to his post about a book under his review:
(Yes, yes, we can learn lots of valuable things from modern scholars. But somehow they never seem to want to teach us the value of our earliest traditions.)
My response to that, over there, was:
By "teach" I assume that you imply "affirm?"
And we’re off to the races. My question is: would it be preferable that biblical scholarship had consisted entirely of 1800 years of simply reiterating that Irenaeus (et al.) was 100% correct? If so, then better that men had stopped studying circa 200 A.D. and the university system had never been created.
Then Western man could have persevered in a perpetual peasantry of plough, plunder, plague and preprogrammed piety: perfect. Publish post.
X
Showing posts with label Disputations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disputations. Show all posts
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Reflections: No Joking Matter
X
In response to the on-going discussion of the Wednesday, February 11, 2009 post at Disputations—“A bad sign”—which has much to do with a Rod Dreher column in which Dreher likens the enjoyment of a good meal to a sacrament—I posted 1 John 2:15-16. If any of that piques your interest, go to Disputations and read it all.
Subsequently, I began reading Catholic novelist Ron Hansen’s latest work, Exiles, a fictional account of the inspiration for, and writing of, the well-known poem, “The Wreck of the Deutschland” by Roman Catholic priest (and great poet), Gerard Manley Hopkins, SJ.
The novel, which I recommend, also has much to do with vocation.
Beginning on page 99, Hansen relates a joke “about a Jesuit and a Dominican who smoked cigarettes as they read their breviaries outside together. The Dominican felt scruples about the propriety of that and thought they ought to consult their Superiors. When they next got together, he was surprised that the Jesuit was still smoking. The Jesuit asked how he’d framed the question to his Superior, and the Dominican said, ‘Am I permitted to smoke while I’m praying?’ The Jesuit took another drag and said nothing. ‘Well, what did you say?’ the Dominican asked. And the Jesuit answered, ‘Am I permitted to pray while I’m smoking?’”
Ha-ha. That’s a good one.
But on second thought, isn’t the reversal of priorities upon which the punch-line of that joke depends precisely what is warned against in the lines from 1 John to which I referred above?:
Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. 1 John 2:15-16
Praying while smoking…hmm.
X
In response to the on-going discussion of the Wednesday, February 11, 2009 post at Disputations—“A bad sign”—which has much to do with a Rod Dreher column in which Dreher likens the enjoyment of a good meal to a sacrament—I posted 1 John 2:15-16. If any of that piques your interest, go to Disputations and read it all.
Subsequently, I began reading Catholic novelist Ron Hansen’s latest work, Exiles, a fictional account of the inspiration for, and writing of, the well-known poem, “The Wreck of the Deutschland” by Roman Catholic priest (and great poet), Gerard Manley Hopkins, SJ.
The novel, which I recommend, also has much to do with vocation.
Beginning on page 99, Hansen relates a joke “about a Jesuit and a Dominican who smoked cigarettes as they read their breviaries outside together. The Dominican felt scruples about the propriety of that and thought they ought to consult their Superiors. When they next got together, he was surprised that the Jesuit was still smoking. The Jesuit asked how he’d framed the question to his Superior, and the Dominican said, ‘Am I permitted to smoke while I’m praying?’ The Jesuit took another drag and said nothing. ‘Well, what did you say?’ the Dominican asked. And the Jesuit answered, ‘Am I permitted to pray while I’m smoking?’”
Ha-ha. That’s a good one.
But on second thought, isn’t the reversal of priorities upon which the punch-line of that joke depends precisely what is warned against in the lines from 1 John to which I referred above?:
Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. 1 John 2:15-16
Praying while smoking…hmm.
X
Friday, November 14, 2008
Reflections: Doubting Rodak
X
Tom, the power-that-is at Disputations, yesterday posted the miraculous tale of a Serbian abortionist who has been converted to a pro-life orientation by the agency of
a recurring dream he had in which he saw a field filled with the children he had aborted. St. Thomas Aquinas was also there, although [the abortionist] a lapsed Orthodox raised under Communism, had never heard the name before he heard it in his dream.
Tom muses:
A medieval Doctor of the Latin Church appearing in a dream to a non-practicing Serb?
Well, yeah... I guess I’ll believe that when I see a depiction of the event celestially branded on the face of a toasted muffin.
X
Tom, the power-that-is at Disputations, yesterday posted the miraculous tale of a Serbian abortionist who has been converted to a pro-life orientation by the agency of
a recurring dream he had in which he saw a field filled with the children he had aborted. St. Thomas Aquinas was also there, although [the abortionist] a lapsed Orthodox raised under Communism, had never heard the name before he heard it in his dream.
Tom muses:
A medieval Doctor of the Latin Church appearing in a dream to a non-practicing Serb?
Well, yeah... I guess I’ll believe that when I see a depiction of the event celestially branded on the face of a toasted muffin.
X
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Readings: on Out of Egypt
On February 23, 2008, Tom, the Keeper of the Keys at Disputations, posted a review of the recently-released novel about Jesus by that renowned retailer of vampire sagas, Anne Rice. The novel, Christ the Lord: The Road to Cana, is the second offering in what is sure to be at least a trilogy, and perhaps more. I had seen the first novel, Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt, on the new book shelf at the public library when it came out. I picked it up and riffled the pages briefly, then put it down. As Tom phrased it in his review of the sequel, “Writing in the voice of the Son of God seemed like a case of trying too hard, and I gave Out of Egypt a miss.” My thoughts were akin to his. Jesus at age seven just didn’t engage my imagination enough to devote the requisite time to it. Then I read Tom’s brief review of The Road to Cana.
Knowing Tom to be a ruthless critic with the highest conceivable standards, I began reading, fully expecting the review to be a hatchet job to make the ghost of Carrie Nation moan with envy. I was very much surprised to be completely wrong. You should read Tom’s piece for yourself (you’ll have to scroll down to it, as I can’t figure out how to link to specific posts on Disputations), but his bottom line is: “The Road to Cana is easily the best -- the best written, the most Catholic -- of the handful of novelizations of Jesus's life that I've read.” No shit, sez I. This dictated the necessity of reading The Road to Cana. But since we’ve obviously got a boxed set building here, and I’m more than a little anal about completeness, I knew that I’d have to read Out of Egypt first. And so I am.
As of this writing I’m not even half-way into the novel. But you must understand that I’m not publishing a cyber-mag here; I try to make Rodak Riffs a true “weblog”—that is, a log of what I’m doing. As I tool down the road, I stop for hitch-hikers; if you want to grab a copy of Out of Egypt and read along, please do so. My opinion of the novel so far is positive.
As the novel opens, Jesus is seven years-old. Joseph has had a premonition that Herod is about to die, and has resolved to return to Nazareth, after stopping at Jerusalem for the Passover. The family is living and working in Alexandria. The whole, extended Holy Family is there, working in the family business; Uncle Cleopas, the several Marys, the cousins of Jesus, his half-brother, James, some other uncles, etc. For Protestants, such as myself, who have been skeptical of the prominence given the Holy Family, and particularly Joseph, by Catholics, Anne Rice here provides a very convincing portrait of Joseph as the patriarchal head of the clan. His word is law.
Tom says of the Jesus of The Road to Cana, “…as he waits for whatever it is that he's waiting for, he's regularly pecked at by those around him who are getting on with their lives.” This is already going on in Out of Egypt. But it is more that Jesus is trying to figure out why he’s treated as so special by all the others—particularly his uncanny cousin, John.
This is already getting longer than I had intended for it to be. Therefore, briefly, some things that I like about the novel:
1) It stresses the historical fact that Jesus was born and raised in a Greek-speaking civilization. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all of the other characters speak fluent Greek, as well as Aramaic. Rice actually has Jesus beginning his formal education under the tutelage of Philo. One of the reasons for Joseph removing the family back to rural Nazareth, despite their material success in Alexandria, is that he wants Jesus to be educated where they read the Scriptures in Hebrew, rather than in Greek.
2) Rice stresses the violence of the world in which Jesus lived and delivered his message. It is so easy for us to imagine Jesus strolling through a tranquil countryside, delivering his speeches to a care-free people. The first thing that happens when the clan arrives in Jerusalem is a massacre, conducted by the palace guard of Archelaus, successor to Herod, of the Jewish pilgrims arriving at the temple to celebrate the Passover. Once the clan has fled from Jerusalem, staying with relatives in the vicinity of Jericho, their temporary dwelling is invaded by Jewish insurgents who are intent on looting their possessions in order to carry on the fight against the Roman occupiers. The family puts up no resistance, behaving as cowering and penniless peasants, and are not harmed by the rebel band. After the bandits have left, Joseph instructs his family thusly: “Remember this, “ he said. He looked from James to me and to Little Joses, and to my cousins who stared up at him, and to John who stood beside his mother. “Remember. Never lift your hand to defend yourself or to strike. Be patient. If you must speak, be simple.” The pacifist in me likes that touch.
3) At the point in the novel where I have stopped reading in order to write this, Elizabeth has just announced that she will soon die, and that John will be sent to live with the Essenes, in the desert. This clearly opens up room for some very interesting speculation about an interesting group, and I look forward to seeing how Rice develops this theme.
Enough. Get it. Read it, as I shall now go and do.
Knowing Tom to be a ruthless critic with the highest conceivable standards, I began reading, fully expecting the review to be a hatchet job to make the ghost of Carrie Nation moan with envy. I was very much surprised to be completely wrong. You should read Tom’s piece for yourself (you’ll have to scroll down to it, as I can’t figure out how to link to specific posts on Disputations), but his bottom line is: “The Road to Cana is easily the best -- the best written, the most Catholic -- of the handful of novelizations of Jesus's life that I've read.” No shit, sez I. This dictated the necessity of reading The Road to Cana. But since we’ve obviously got a boxed set building here, and I’m more than a little anal about completeness, I knew that I’d have to read Out of Egypt first. And so I am.
As of this writing I’m not even half-way into the novel. But you must understand that I’m not publishing a cyber-mag here; I try to make Rodak Riffs a true “weblog”—that is, a log of what I’m doing. As I tool down the road, I stop for hitch-hikers; if you want to grab a copy of Out of Egypt and read along, please do so. My opinion of the novel so far is positive.
As the novel opens, Jesus is seven years-old. Joseph has had a premonition that Herod is about to die, and has resolved to return to Nazareth, after stopping at Jerusalem for the Passover. The family is living and working in Alexandria. The whole, extended Holy Family is there, working in the family business; Uncle Cleopas, the several Marys, the cousins of Jesus, his half-brother, James, some other uncles, etc. For Protestants, such as myself, who have been skeptical of the prominence given the Holy Family, and particularly Joseph, by Catholics, Anne Rice here provides a very convincing portrait of Joseph as the patriarchal head of the clan. His word is law.
Tom says of the Jesus of The Road to Cana, “…as he waits for whatever it is that he's waiting for, he's regularly pecked at by those around him who are getting on with their lives.” This is already going on in Out of Egypt. But it is more that Jesus is trying to figure out why he’s treated as so special by all the others—particularly his uncanny cousin, John.
This is already getting longer than I had intended for it to be. Therefore, briefly, some things that I like about the novel:
1) It stresses the historical fact that Jesus was born and raised in a Greek-speaking civilization. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all of the other characters speak fluent Greek, as well as Aramaic. Rice actually has Jesus beginning his formal education under the tutelage of Philo. One of the reasons for Joseph removing the family back to rural Nazareth, despite their material success in Alexandria, is that he wants Jesus to be educated where they read the Scriptures in Hebrew, rather than in Greek.
2) Rice stresses the violence of the world in which Jesus lived and delivered his message. It is so easy for us to imagine Jesus strolling through a tranquil countryside, delivering his speeches to a care-free people. The first thing that happens when the clan arrives in Jerusalem is a massacre, conducted by the palace guard of Archelaus, successor to Herod, of the Jewish pilgrims arriving at the temple to celebrate the Passover. Once the clan has fled from Jerusalem, staying with relatives in the vicinity of Jericho, their temporary dwelling is invaded by Jewish insurgents who are intent on looting their possessions in order to carry on the fight against the Roman occupiers. The family puts up no resistance, behaving as cowering and penniless peasants, and are not harmed by the rebel band. After the bandits have left, Joseph instructs his family thusly: “Remember this, “ he said. He looked from James to me and to Little Joses, and to my cousins who stared up at him, and to John who stood beside his mother. “Remember. Never lift your hand to defend yourself or to strike. Be patient. If you must speak, be simple.” The pacifist in me likes that touch.
3) At the point in the novel where I have stopped reading in order to write this, Elizabeth has just announced that she will soon die, and that John will be sent to live with the Essenes, in the desert. This clearly opens up room for some very interesting speculation about an interesting group, and I look forward to seeing how Rice develops this theme.
Enough. Get it. Read it, as I shall now go and do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
