Maybe we should sue God?

Here's one from the good folks at Stoplight. A man in Michigan is suing two Christian publishing houses for $70,000,000. His complaint: The Bible contains passages that offend him.


http://www.citizenlink.org/Stoplight/A000007807.cfm

One More Reason Why I Am an Anglican Catholic

I could rail on about the travesty of modern liturgy and the loss of the sense of the sacred. I could speak endless words about how the Church of Rome, indeed almost all contemporary churches, have abandoned their ancient and timeless liturgical principles. I could say all of these things, but I think the video below, filmed at World Youth Day 2008, says it better than I ever could:

http://www.gloria.tv/?video=arbjp2rmxsioabwnmvyn

Are You Excited About the Election?? Yawn!

Four more months to go and I'm bored to tears with the upcoming election. I'm scared that Campaign 2012 will begin immediately after Election Day.

Do you feel this way, too? Then you'll be glad to know that the folks at jibjab.com have come up with a new election video that will brighten your spirits. These are the same folks that gave us the great Kerry-Bush, "This Land Is Your Land" video in 2004.

Folks at the New Yorker take note: This is how you do satire. Here's the link:

http://sendables.jibjab.com/sendables/1191/time_for_some_campaignin

Jesus and the Professor

Paul Zachary Myers is not exactly a household name, or wasn't until now. In what is a clear sign of our times, this biology professor at the University of Minnesota - Morris has recently stepped outside of his area of expertise to comment on the Holy Eucharist. Writing on his blog, Pharyngula: Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal, he addressed the situation where a young man smuggled the Sacred Body of Christ out of a Roman Catholic church and kept it for four days. Myers' reaction was amazing, even for an atheist academic. He proposed to have someone mail him a consecrated host so that it could be publicly desecrated.

I'm going to copy his entire post here so that you can read it in full. I warn you up front that this contains language that you will never normally encounter on my blog. However, controversial posts like his have a way of being pulled under some pressure and I'd like to make sure that a record of this post is enshrined somewhere.

How should we deal with this blasphemy as Christians? While it is easy for us to be angry, even outraged, I think it is important to recognize Myers' screed as the output of a sick soul and to pray for him as would our Lord, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Here's the post and here's the link:

http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2008/07/its_a_goddamned_cracker.php

-----

T'S A FRACKIN’ CRACKER!

Category: Religion • Stupidity
Posted on: July 8, 2008 8:05 PM, by PZ Myers

There are days when it is agony to read the news, because people are so goddamned stupid. Petty and stupid. Hateful and stupid. Just plain stupid. And nothing makes them stupider than religion.

Here's a story that will destroy your hopes for a reasonable humanity.

Webster Cook says he smuggled a Eucharist, a small bread wafer that to Catholics symbolic of the Body of Christ after a priest blesses it, out of mass, didn't eat it as he was supposed to do, but instead walked with it.

This isn't the stupid part yet. He walked off with a cracker that was put in his mouth, and people in the church fought with him to get it back. It is just a cracker!

Catholics worldwide became furious.

Would you believe this isn't hyperbole? People around the world are actually extremely angry about this — Webster Cook has been sent death threats over his cracker. Those are just kooks, you might say, but here is the considered, measured response of the local diocese:

"We don't know 100% what Mr. Cooks motivation was," said Susan Fani a spokesperson with the local Catholic diocese. "However, if anything were to qualify as a hate crime, to us this seems like this might be it."

We just expect the University to take this seriously," she added "To send a message to not just Mr. Cook but the whole community that this kind of really complete sacrilege will not be tolerated."

Wait, what? Holding a cracker hostage is now a hate crime? The murder of Matthew Shephard was a hate crime. The murder of James Byrd Jr. was a hate crime. This is a goddamned cracker. Can you possibly diminish the abuse of real human beings any further?

Well, you could have a priest compare this event to a kidnapping.

"It is hurtful," said Father Migeul Gonzalez with the Diocese. "Imagine if they kidnapped somebody and you make a plea for that individual to please return that loved one to the family."

Gonzalez said the Diocese is willing to meet with Cook and help him understand the importance of the Eucharist in hopes of him returning it. The Diocese is dispatching a nun to UCF's campus to oversee the next mass, protect the Eucharist and in hopes Cook will return it.

I like the idea of sending a scary nun to guard the ceremony at the next mass. But even better…let's send Webster Cook to hell!

Gonzalez said intentionally abusing the Eucharist is classified as a mortal sin in the Catholic church, the most severe possible. If it's not returned, the community of faith will have to ask for forgiveness.

"We have to make acts of reparation," Gonzalez said. "The whole community is going to turn to prayer. We'll ask the Lord for pardon, forgiveness, peace, not only for the whole community affected by it, but also for [Cook], we offer prayers for him as well."

Get some perspective, man. IT'S A CRACKER.

And of course, Bill Donohue is outraged (I know, Donohue is going to die of apoplexy someday when a gnat violates his oatmeal, so this isn't saying much).

For a student to disrupt Mass by taking the Body of Christ hostage--regardless of the alleged nature of his grievance--is beyond hate speech. That is why the UCF administration needs to act swiftly and decisively in seeing that justice is done. All options should be on the table, including expulsion.

Oh, beyond hate speech. Where does this fit on the Shoah scale, Bill? It shouldn't even register, but here is Wild-Eyed Bill the Offended calling for the expulsion of a student…for not swallowing a cracker.

Would you believe that the mealy-mouthed president of the university, John Hitt, is avoiding defending his student is instead playing up the importance of the Catholic church to the university? Of course you would. That's what university presidents do. Bugger the students, keep the donors and the state reps happy.

Unfortunately, Webster Cook has now returned the cracker. Why?

Webster just wants all of this to go away. Especially now that he feels his life is in danger.

That's right. Crazy Christian fanatics right here in our own country have been threatening to kill a young man over a cracker. This is insane. These people are demented fuckwits. And Cook is not out of the fire yet — that Fox News story ends with an open incitement to cause him further misery.

University officials said, that as for right now, Webster Cook is not in trouble. If anyone or any group wants to file a formal complaint with the University through the student judicial system, they can. If that happens, Webster will go through a hearing either in front of an administrative panel or a panel of his peers.

Got that? If you don't like what Webster Cook did, all you have to do is complain to the university, and they will do the dirty work for you of making his college experience miserable. And don't assume the university would support Cook; the college is now having armed university police officers standing guard during mass.

I find this all utterly unbelievable. It's like Dark Age superstition and malice, all thriving with the endorsement of secular institutions here in 21st century America. It is a culture of deluded lunatics calling the shots and making human beings dance to their mythical bunkum.

So, what to do. I have an idea. Can anyone out there score me some consecrated communion wafers? There's no way I can personally get them — my local churches have stakes prepared for me, I'm sure — but if any of you would be willing to do what it takes to get me some, or even one, and mail it to me, I'll show you sacrilege, gladly, and with much fanfare. I won't be tempted to hold it hostage (no, not even if I have a choice between returning the Eucharist and watching Bill Donohue kick the pope in the balls, which would apparently be a more humane act than desecrating a goddamned cracker), but will instead treat it with profound disrespect and heinous cracker abuse, all photographed and presented here on the web. I shall do so joyfully and with laughter in my heart. If you can smuggle some out from under the armed guards and grim nuns hovering over your local communion ceremony, just write to me and I'll send you my home address.

Just wait. Now there'll be a team of Jesuits assigned to rifle through my mail every day.

Sliding Down the Slippery Slope

I'm often asked by continuing Anglicans, "Why don't we seek unity with Canterbury?" The short, correct, and undiplomatic answer, of course, is that Canterbury is in heresy and we cannot seek union with heretics. Yesterday, we saw the final insult as the Church of England Synod voted to "consecrate" women to the episcopate. Not surprisingly, the liberals of the Synod refused to allow for any provision for those who oppose the move to receive pastoral support from sympathetic bishops, much in the same way that the Episcopal Church did a cram-down on those who opposed women "bishops" in the United States.

Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, allegedly hung his head when support for traditionalists was denied, the implication being that he was somehow sorry that the church had failed to support traditionalists. I find this surprising, considering that Williams has supported the "ordination" of women for years. More than likely, he was just tired.

Many traditionalists are already jabbering about swimming the Tiber to Rome. If results in the United States suggest anything, a few will do so, a few will join a continuing church (such as the ACC), and most will simply draw a new line in the sand. In short, for the most part, nothing will change.

Ruth Gledhill of the Times of London covered the story. Here's her report:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/faith/article4289994.ece

On other fronts, the Global Anglican Future Conference, or GAFCON, met in Jerusalem from June 22nd through June 29th. This conference of Evangelical Anglican primates, bishops, and others, formed mainly to protest the consecration of open homosexuals to the episcopate and homosexual marriage. GAFCON does not address other serious differences between traditional Anglicans and the modernist ones, such as the "ordination" of women, the role of Tradition and Scripture in the Church, to name two. Unless these are addressed, it is only a matter of time before even these evangelicals struggle with the same issues as plague Canterbury.

Archbishop Mark Haverland of the ACC has written a cogent and accurate assessment of GAFCON. Here's the link:

http://www.anglicancatholic.org/gafcon.html

DOMA and the Candidate

Back in the days when the homosexual marriage movement was getting under way, many people in the U.S. realized that gay marriages performed in one state would have to be recognized in other states because of the Privileges and Immunities Clause in the U.S. Constitution. Congress responded to this potential problem by passing the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) in 1996, stating that no state had to recognize a same sex union of another state and that the Federal government would not recognize these relationships.

Ever wonder what a political candidate might think about this issue? Check the link below:

http://www.citizenlink.org/turnsignal/A000007636.cfm

I Now Pronounce You Adam and Steve

Here's an article from National Review Online concerning the marriage crisis that we face because of the decision from the California Supreme Court that stated that restricting marriage to a man and a woman violated the California State Constitution. Christians need to be very aware that everything that we believe is under assault. I would say more but this article says it all. Here's the link:

http://article.nationalreview.com/print/?q=ZGNmODNiMjI0MTQ1MTQwNGM4N2YyNmVhY2UyZTE0OWY=

Why I Have Little Respect for Professional Athletes

I spent the better part of this Father's Day evening glued to my television watching the U.S. Open. Tiger Woods, playing in tremendous pain in his left knee at the beginning of the round, almost miraculously appeared to get better as the day wore on. Tiger, as usual, threw clubs during his round, muttered his usual curse words after missing a shot, in short, behaved as a petulant child. After making a 15 foot putt to force a playoff, God's gift to golf had the following exchange with Roger Maltbie of NBC Sports:

Maltbie: Now, I have to ask you about the knee. It seemed like it bothered you early on and then it seemed like it didn't bother you as much as the round progressed, different from other days. True or not true?
Woods: Uh, true. Um, took some things to kind of relieve that.
Maltbie: And adrenaline, maybe?
Woods: [smiling] That helps, too.

OK, Tiger, what did you take? If it was 800 to 1000 mg of ibuprofen that's one thing. However, if the "things" that he took included a substance such as hydrocodone, isn't that something else entirely?

Also, what about all of the children who look up to Tiger as a role model? They now know that the means justify the ends. It's OK to take whatever you need to in order to achieve your goal.

Finally, the gentleman's game of golf has been reduced to the ash heap that is professional athletics.

Do you think the major sports outlets will cover this or demand an explanation? Not a chance. Tiger will never have to answer one question. But the children will remember!

I guess there is no professional sport left that values honor and integrity over results.

When Does Free Speech Become Hate Speech?

In yesterday's edition of the International Herald Tribune there was an article that should send shivers up the spine of any Christian. Entitled "Hate speech or free speech? What much of West bans is protected in U.S." The article can be neatly summed up in the title. What is alarming is the number of legal scholars and politicians who believe that the First Amendment privileges should be tightened to exclude items that have been designated as "hate speech." Here's the problem: Who decides what crosses the line into hate speech? For a Christian, is it hate speech to preach that Christ is the only way to salvation? Is it hate speech to attempt to convert people of other religions? Is it hate speech to insist that human sexual activity is only moral when it exists within the context of holy matrimony, that is in a Sacramental relationship between one man and one woman?

When we start to restrict what people can and cannot say (slander and libel excepted), then we simply reach a point where we are arbitrarily setting standards. My intuition tells me that traditional Christians will be negatively impacted by this more than any other group. It is a sad sign of the progression of liberalism in our society that a thesis proposing that we should limit the first amendment could even see the light of day.

Oh, yes, here's one more thing: Let's say that somewhere down the line the Free Speech clause is encumbered with hate-speech provisions. What's next? What if someone starts to think that there are other aspects of the First Amendment that should be curtailed? Freedom of religion, perhaps? What will stop someone from saying that this religion is OK, but that religion teaches intolerant doctrine? Who will be there to stop them once Free Speech has been relativized?

Be very, very concerned.

Here's the link:

http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/06/11/america/hate.php

Oh, oh, oh, It's Magic!

Here's a shot of our first greyhound, Golden Magic, taken when she was two years old and just adopted. Magic is now nine and going strong. She's also my favorite, but just by a nose! Visit

http://www.greyhoundadoption.org/ to find out more about these greyt dogs.

Some Thoughts on Unalienable Rights I

Recently I was packing some books to take from my home to my office at the church and I came across a small volume that could easily fit in a shirt pocket. It was paper bound and had images of the American flag on the front. This small volume contained the Declaration of Independence, the United States Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. I sat down in a corner of my basement and proceeded to read, "IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776. The Unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America."

I've always been very proud to be born a citizen of this great nation. When I think of all the people throughout the world who have made tremendous sacrifices to come here, I'm filled with awe at their courage, dedication, and belief that the United States of America held opportunities for them that far exceeded their own country of origin. These are people who would take their life savings to cross the Atlantic Ocean in the bowels of a steamship. Ellis Island will forever stand as a monument to the stubborn determination of several generations of new Americans. Other Americans came differently, fleeing communism or other despotic regimes, even floating across the Straits of Florida through shark-infested water on nothing more than boards and only the glimmer of hope that they would reach the United States where they could enjoy the freedom about which they could only dream in their native lands. When I think of these brave people, I can only cry out my thanks to God that I could be born into such a great nation, that I was spared the grueling and dangerous journey to this great land.

I sat reading the Declaration, the Constitution, and Bill of Rights, and I thought of all the people who made such sacrifices so that I could enjoy the freedom and opportunity that is the birthright of all Americans. I thought of my maternal great-grandfather who fought for the Union in the Civil War and later became a physician in his native east Tennessee. I thought of those on my father's side of the family whose blood fertilized the ground and stained the Confederate gray of their uniforms in battles far, far from home. I thought of my grandfather who landed on Normandy on D-Day plus two and my father who served in the Italian Occupation Forces. I remember with great thanks the service of my uncle, my mother's brother, Uncle Roy, whose plane was shot down somewhere in Europe and who was, as the War Department put it in a telegram to my grandparents, "missing and presumed dead." But he wasn't dead. He was in a German POW camp, one that was - fortunately for him and us - liberated by the Americans as they swept through Europe in 1944. These people and countless others who are nameless and faceless sacrificed their time, their safety, their occupations, and - in too many cases - their lives, so that I could enjoy the freedom that is found in the United States. As I read through this little book, I couldn't help but be humbled by the men and women who are, even as I write this, sacrificing their lives in strange and terrible lands named Iraq and Afghanistan for the principles in the little book that I held in my hands.

As I read my little book, I was struck by a passage in the Declaration of Independence, a passage that I, and I suppose all of us, have heard so many times before:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

On the surface it seems pretty simple now, we have rights that come from God, rights that are ours by the mere fact of our birth, rights that can never under any circumstances be taken away from us, and that among them are the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

What seems simple now, however, was wildly radical in its day. The world of the 18th Century was a world that saw "rights" as something that proceeded from the authority of the state. In Europe, this frequently meant rights that were granted to the people by a monarch who ruled by God's will and with God's authority. However, those whose thoughts would frame the Declaration would have none of this. For them, the rights that were ascribed to man were a part of the very fabric of his nature and could no more be given to him by someone else than Joe could give Jim property that belonged to Steve. The Revolution that would be fought up and down the Atlantic seaboard actually had its first shot fired, not at Concord, but in these powerful words: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

As I was meditating on these words, I suddenly realized that I wanted to take some time over the coming months and share some thoughts with you about these rights: The rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I don't wish to present myself as an expert on this period, because I am neither a political scientist, nor am I a historian. What I am, however, is an Anglican Catholic Priest by vocation and a clinical psychologist by profession who approaches his task with a basic presupposition: I believe that a fundamentally sound understanding of these rights can only be achieved if one understands the Christian principles that are, I believe, implicit in them. Over the coming months, I plan to write a few occasional pieces on the right to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." These will not be scholarly. They will, however, be the thoughts and meditations of a man who has been called by God to serve at His Altar in the one nation on earth that protects his freedom to do so. While I hope that you will find some enjoyment in what I write, I pen these words primarily to offer my thanks to God who has placed me in this wonderful country for His service.

More to come...

Name That Trinity!!

I saw this on Virtue Online this morning and just had to share it with you.

Is the Camel Coming into the Tent?

Many in the pro-life movement have claimed for years that when abortion is legal, it would be the first step toward a total disregard for human life. This argument has been poo-poo'd by the pro-abortion folks, but the creeping reality of euthanasia is making its presence felt in most of the west including the United States. Most pro-life folks believe that if you can terminate life at one end of the spectrum, it's only a matter of time before you can terminate on the other.

Here's an article that appeared this morning on Townhall.com that will enlighten you on the nature of the pro-death movement that hides its desire for death behind such euphemisms as "pro-choice" and "quality of life."

http://www.townhall.com/columnists/KenConnor/2008/05/26/encouraging_death

Invoking the Name of God

Actually this post has nothing to do with theology. It could also be titled, "Why airline pilots make the big bucks." I think anyone on any of these planes would have called out to God on any of these landings.

Here's the link:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4RdxU-0W-RE

Water, Water Everywhere!!!

Recently, the folks over at Stoplight produced a new short on H2O. Now, what can be more harmless and noncontroversial than water? By the way, Stuart Shepard seems to confuse Helium and Hydrogen, but don't worry about it. Just check out the link below.


http://www.citizenlink.org/Stoplight/A000007448.cfm

Where Catholic Liberals Go to Die!

One of the most hideously liberal organizations that had its birth in the morass of post-Vatican II Christianity is the "Call to Action" movement. To the best of my knowledge the "Call to Action" crowd never accomplished much of anything other than to question any teaching that Catholics or, for that matter, most Christians hold dear.

Now many of them are aging and not particularly gracefully. Here's a closing liturgy from the Southern California chapter of "Call to Action" that I think pretty fairly summarizes the whole movement. Sadly, there are many Episcopalians who might witness this "liturgy" and decide that this should become normative for them.

The link follows. However, I wouldn't suggest watching this right after a meal.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSbiL3XduvY

Now, if that's not enough, here's a "Mass" celebrated by Roman Catholic womenpriests(yes, that's the name of the organization). This "Mass" was also celebrated at "Call to Action".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfKSfJ9cLwY

More Poems? You Must Be Kidding?

No, I'm not kidding. For some reason that I don't quite understand, I'm feeling compelled to post some of my favorite poems, all of which are in the public domain.

Jekyll Island is one of Georgia's Golden Isles, along with St. Simon's Island, Sea Island, Colonel's Island, and Cumberland Island. Jekyll is nine miles long and - at most - half a mile wide, separated from Brunswick, the closest town, by a 12-mile causeway that cuts through the "Marshes of Glynn." My grandmother was the second person to move to Jekyll Island when it first opened as a state park in the late 1950s and my sisters and I would spend the bulk of our summers there.

Probably no place on earth is as beautiful to me as the marshlands of Glynn County, Georgia. Sidney Lanier seemed to feel the same way. Here's one of his greatest works, "The Marshes of Glynn."

---

The Marshes of Glynn
by Sidney Lanier

Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven
With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven
Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs,—
Emerald twilights,—
Virginal shy lights,
Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows,
When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades
Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods,
Of the heavenly woods and glades,
That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within
The wide sea-marshes of Glynn;—

Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noonday fire,—
Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire,
Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of leaves,—
Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves,
Pure with a sense of the passing of saints through the wood,
Cool for the dutiful weighing of ill with good;—

O braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the vine,
While the riotous noonday sun of the June-day long did shine
Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in mine;
But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest,
And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West,
And the slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem
Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream,—
Ay, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the soul of the oak,
And my heart is at ease from men, and the wearisome sound of the stroke
Of the scythe of time and trowel of trade is low,
And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know,
And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within,
That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn
Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore
When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness sore,
And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnamable pain
Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain,—

Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face
The vast sweet visage of space.
To the edge of the wood I am drawn, I am drawn,
Where the gray beach glimmering runs, as a belt of the dawn,
For a mete and a mark
To the forest dark:—
So:
Affable live-oak, leaning low,—
Thus—with your favor—soft, with a reverent hand,
(Not lightly touching your person, Lord of the land!)
Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand
On the firm-packed sand,
Free
By a world of marsh that borders a world of sea.
Sinuous southward and sinuous northward the shimmering band
Of the sand-beach fastens the fringe of the marsh to the folds of the land.
Inward and outward to northward and southward the beach-lines linger and curl
As a silver-wrought garment that clings to and follows the firm sweet limbs of a girl.
Vanishing, swerving, evermore curving again into sight,
Softly the sand-beach wavers away to a dim gray looping of light.
And what if behind me to westward the wall of the woods stands high?
The world lies east: how ample, the marsh and the sea and the sky!
A league and a league of marsh-grass, waist-high, broad in the blade,
Green, and all of a height, and unflecked with a light or a shade,
Stretch leisurely off, in a pleasant plain,
To the terminal blue of the main.

Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea?
Somehow my soul seems suddenly free
From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of sin,
By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn.

Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-withholding and free
Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea!
Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun,
Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won
God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain
And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain.

As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod,
Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God:
I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies
In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies:
By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod
I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God:
Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within
The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of Glynn.

And the sea lends large, as the marsh: lo, out of his plenty the sea
Pours fast: full soon the time of the flood tide must be:
Look how the grace of the sea doth go
About and about through the intricate channels that flow
Here and there,
Everywhere,
Till his waters have flooded the uttermost creeks and the low-lying lanes,
And the marsh is meshed with a million veins,
That like as with rosy and silvery essences flow
In the rose-and-silver evening glow.
Farewell, my lord Sun!
The creeks overflow: a thousand rivulets run
'Twixt the roots of the sod; the blades of the marsh-grass stir;
Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward whirr;
Passeth, and all is still; and the currents cease to run;
And the sea and the marsh are one.

How still the plains of the waters be!
The tide is in his ecstasy;
The tide is at his highest height;
And it is night.

And now from the Vast of the Lord will the waters of sleep
Roll in on the souls of men,
But who will reveal to our waking ken
The forms that swim and the shapes that creep
Under the waters of sleep?
And I would I could know what swimmeth below when the tide comes in
On the length and the breadth of the marvellous marshes of Glynn.

More for the Good of the Service

Here's another short piece from Robert W. Service. Perhaps this is a good response to modern critics:

--

I have no doubt at all the Devil grins,
As seas of ink I spatter.
Ye Gods, forgive my "literary" sins -
The other kind don't matter.

Cremation Question and Answer

Recently, an interested person asked me about the teaching of the Anglican Catholic Church on cremation. After I explained that we were not opposed to cremation provided that ashes were not scattered, I began thinking about the practice of burning our dead.

I suppose my mind wandered a little too far because my attention was drawn to one of my favorite poets, Robert W. Service. Yes, I know that for poetry connoisseurs, Service is considered too banal to be taken seriously, but I love his writing. Yes, I know that as an English major I should have a more sophisticated literary taste, but I don't.

So, here for you cremation junkies is, what I think, is one of the greatest poems ever written.

----

The Cremation of Sam McGee

by Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam ‘round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he’d often say in his homely way that “he’d sooner live in hell.”

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
“It’s the cursed cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet ‘taint being dead—it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”

A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate those last remains.”

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows—O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.”
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
Then I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.
I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked;” . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.
It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Politics as usual? I hope not.

I try to avoid political discourse on this blog (or at least party specific discourse), however I think that most people would not be surprised to know that I'm a pretty conservative fellow. I follow a lot of the blogs, I listen to Rush and Mark Levin, I own most of William F. Buckley, Jr's writings, and I've been a National Review subscriber since I was in my teens.

Now having said all this, let me tell you what is bothering me. Most conservatives (which are mostly Republicans) seem to be convinced that the way to win the November election is to spend most of their time and energy on describing what horrible people their opponents are. In the past few weeks, I've received gobs of e-mails talking about Barack Obama: He's a Muslim, he's not a real Christian, he's a follower of Saul Alinsky, he's a pro-abort, he eats live kittens for breakfast (OK, I made the last one up). I've further received loads of e-mails about Hillary Clinton: She's corrupt, her husband's a serial adulterer (what a surprise), she's a closet communist, she eats live puppies for breakfast (especially since Barack has the kittens). Much the same stuff is being said in some quarters even about John McCain. All of this stuff might be true or it might not. As I see it, the problem is that I don't care if any of it is true and I don't think the majority of the American people do either.

I'll go one step further. I believe that if conservatives think that they can win seats in the House and Senate, or even the White House by simply highlighting their opponents' inadequacies or outright dangerous or stupid views, then conservatives will be huge losers and they will deserve to be.

This country faces tremendous challenges and these challenges will require solutions that are founded in clear, understandable, common-sense policies that are consistent with the foundational principles of our nation. Most Americans can understand that and that, dear reader, is what will win or lose elections. It's easy to call any candidate a name and, even if the name is accurate, nobody cares. What is going to make a difference in 2008 is a calm, measured discussion of the issues that face our nation as we come to the close of the first decade of this new millennium.

I believe that the reason the Republican party is in shambles is because they have gotten fat and lazy, particularly regarding the principles that brought the party to the forefront in the mid-1990s. The party won with a "Contract with America" that promised term limits, fiscal responsibility, lower taxation, and such. In each one of these areas, save taxation, Republicans took their eyes off the ball, becoming enamored with the "inside the beltway" life. It wasn't just that they spent like drunken sailors, it was that they seemed cavalierly out of touch with the needs and problems of the American people, responding only, "But your taxes are lower!!"

I'm not saying raise taxes, God knows I'm not saying that. But what I am saying is: Let's have a conversation about issues and give poor Jeremiah Wright a rest. After all, that guy and those who follow him deserve our pity and prayers, not our rage. Let's talk about the sanctity of human life from conception until natural death. Let's really talk about the problem of what to do with our borders and with the millions of people that have come here illegally. Let's talk about the defense of our nation against Islamic terrorism. Let's talk about our economic standing vis a vis the global economy. Let's talk about how we will solve any one of these or any other issue. But, for God's sake, let's just once see a conservative who will spend his time articulating a positive vision for America, one that secures and holds dear the right of all Americans to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." I believe that Americans will support a positive issues-driven campaign in which a candidate clearly states what he or she is FOR. I believe that most Americans (and I) will tend to reject, or at most be lackluster toward a campaign that says, "Vote for me because my opponent is a schmuck."

OK, I've said my piece. Now I will go back to writing about the stuff that interests me. Thanks for putting up with my rant and I'll try not to do it again. At least for the next four years...