Sword Saints

Wednesday haiku

Chasing thankfulness
amidst stress and little sleep
and house construction.

History lessons

Lars Brownworth, the creator of the outstanding 12 Byzantine Rulers podcast, has a new podcast for history geeks: Norman Centuries. I listened to the most recent episode in the car today and one item in particular struck me. The policy of Britain under some of their early monarchs in the time of the Viking raids was simply to bribe the Vikings to stop. It was a disaster, at least for Britain. The Vikings would come in, burn and pillage a view villages, and a representative of the king would arrive posthaste with bags of gold in hand to buy them off. Not a lot of work for the Vikings, but they got what they wanted: loot.

Sound familiar? Those who would use political power to seize assets from one person to give to themselves (or to someone else) are the modern-day equivalent of the Vikings. Less violent, sure. But they want what belongs to someone else, and they will use force or the threat of force (see also: taxation) to achieve their ends. And we, the voters, are like the inept kings attempting to buy them off with our votes, barely realizing that all we're doing is prolonging the problem.

"He shall deathless stand"

This comes from the end of J. R. R. Tolkien's translation of The Lay of the Völsungs, IX.80-81. I wonder how much of this is original to the poem and how much is influenced by Tolkien's own faith. Whatever it is, it's awesome.

In the Day of Doom
he shall deathless stand
who death tasted
and dies no more,
the serpent-slayer,
seed of Ódin:
not all shall end,
nor Earth perish.

On his head the Helm,
in his hand lightning,
afire his spirit,
in his face splendour.
When war passeth
in world rebuilt,
bliss shall they drink
who the bitter tasted.

I really enjoyed the whole poem, both for its deeper glimpse into the Norse mythos and for its rich influence on Tolkien's other work. And it has given me the itch to pick up Niebelungenlied, The Silmarillion and The Children of Húrin again. Go figure.

Down with the wall

German class, sophomore year of high school. We watched, mesmerized, as giddy Germans shouted and danced and took pickaxes and hammers to the graffiti-covered Berlin Wall. That probably would have been a couple days after the momentous event that happened twenty years ago today, when the Berlin Wall crumbled, at least figuratively, and the Iron Curtain began to disintegrate. But I do remember watching the celebration right there in the classroom.

Six years ago we vacationed in Germany but did not make it to Berlin or any other parts of what had been East Germany. The sense we got, though, was that the reunification process was ongoing, somewhat painful, and very, very expensive. It was, and probably still is, a mixed bag.

And here we are, twenty years later. The twentieth anniversary has come and almost gone, and I've yet to see even a mention from any of our own government officials. That's hardly surprising, given our slow but inexorable slide toward the same type of system that built the Berlin Wall.

That wasn't the new heart I was looking for

The good news is that I slept deeply enough to dream last night. It was a weird one, a really long narrative compressed into what was probably a really short dream cycle. Some shadowy government agency was hunting me down for some reason unknown to me, all in breathless first person. Cut. The agents finally cornered me in a dark alley (of course), hit me with a tranquilizer gun, and dragged me in for interrogation. Cut. Several days later, it's gone third-person on me, and I'm watching my family receive and deal with the news of my death from clean-cut men in dark suits. Cut. Back to first-person, several weeks later, and I'm at my front door being welcomed back with tears and hysterics. I came to learn that I died during interrogation, but the men in black gave me a "new" heart that was leaky and defective in all kinds of ways and let me go. And so began the hunt for my original heart, just in time for my alarm to go off.

My takeaway from the dream: don't count on the government or any other human agency to give you a new heart. It's guaranteed to be defective.

Who knows, though, maybe I could figure out how to work the whole crazy thing into the plot of a story.

Life lessons from the undead

'Tis the season for zombies and vampires. I'm intrigued both by the ongoing cultural fascination with the undead and by the subtle shifts in perception of what were traditionally monsters. Vampires, in particular, have made the shift from horrifying and ugly monsters to dreamy angsty pretty-boys. I find that both annoying and troubling. (More on that here.)

It seems to me that both zombies and vampires reflect different facets of our cultural struggles. Zombies are always hungry but never satisfied; they are driven by instinct; they never rest; they are, in fact, consumed by their consumption. Theirs is an ultimately frustrating existence, and I think zombies might be a graphic portrayal of our (subconscious, perhaps) frustration with societal expectations, especially with respect to work and vocation.

Vampires, on the other hand, are symbols of sensuality and hedonism. Yes, they hunger, but they fill themselves and are satisfied, at least for a time, and usually accompanied by fabulously attractive and unaging companions. According to the Wikipedia entry for Vampire, "The continuing popularity of the vampire theme has been ascribed to a combination of two factors: the representation of sexuality and the perennial dread of mortality." That's hardly a surprise given our cultural youth-addiction and the ongoing pornification of, well, everything. Vampires are deathless hedonists. Of course they're popular.

The thing to remember, though, is that both zombies and vampires are dead creatures. Whatever life they have is merely a parody of true life. This is important when considering vampires, especially given the popularity of the Twilight saga and most other current vampire fare. Vampires (and zombies) are not characters to be emulated; they are monsters to be fought. What are monsters, after all, if not personifications of the evil in our hearts? We all have zombies and vampires in our lives, if we're honest enough to admit it. The question is, will we wage war against them? Or will we give in and be ruled by the hollow promise of undeath and reject life in all its fullness?

Wednesday haiku

Motivate myself,
and so learn to motivate
the lad and the lass.

Wednesday haiku

Late summer shower,
a laughing father and son
dancing in the rain.

Government doing as government does

I know a whole bunch of folk have their knickers in a wad about President Obama addressing elementary, middle school, and high school students next week. But come on. We're talking about government schools here. Is the education students are receiving politically unbiased throughout the rest of the school year? Really? And if not, why is it so upsetting that the chief executive of the United States government is going to address students in government schools? Please educate me, because it seems perfectly reasonable.

An open letter to Chloe on the occasion of her baptism

Dear Chloe,

At your birth your mother and I gave you the name
that means "Blossoming Full of Grace".
"Full of Grace" is from your great-grandmother,
that as you peer into the past
you might glimpse grace upon grace.
"Blossoming" is all your own,
that as you face the future
you might imagine how grace will grow and flourish.

At your baptism your mother and I give you the name
of the Trinity:
the Father
and the Son
and the Holy Spirit,
the name that causes the blossoming of grace in our lives.

The name of the Father who created us and loves us
and made you to blossom in our lives,
who keeps His covenant promises
and would adopt you as His own.

The name of the Son who as God became man,
and suffered and died and rose from the dead for us,
the name above all names, the "yes" to the promises of God,
He who would redeem you as a daughter of God.

The name of the Spirit who hovered over the face of the waters,
who comforts and helps us,
and opens our eyes
and greens our hearts that grace might grow,
and would give you new life in the Son.

May the name we gave you at birth,
Blossoming Full of Grace,
always remind you of the name we gave you at your baptism.
Chloe, may your life blossom full of grace in the name of the Trinity:
the Father,
the Son,
the Holy Spirit.

"The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."

Love and blessings,
Mommy and Papa
30 August 2009

In the presence of the king

I've been slowly working my way through the Lord of the Rings books again and finally reached the last installment, The Return of the King. As I was reading, an exchange between Merry and Théoden hit me right between the eyes:

'I have a sword,' said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing from its black sheath a small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love for this old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. 'May I lay the sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap, Théoden King?' he cried. 'Receive my service, if you will!'

'Gladly will I take it,' said the king; and laying his long old hands upon the brown hair of the hobbit, he blessed him. 'Rise now, Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!' he said. 'Take your sword and bear it unto good fortune!'

'As a father you shall be to me,' said Merry.

'For a little while,' said Théoden.

Tolkien wrote us a picture not just of the idea of a king, but of the swirling emotions that surround an encounter with the person of a king. Merry was from the Shire, which had no king. He probably knew as much about kings as we do, namely, what he'd heard from stories and tales and legends. Yet in spite of that lack of experiential knowledge he was overwhelmed by his emotional response and did the only thing he knew to do: pledge his entire self to this king. What an incredible metaphor that is for how I should respond in the presence of the King of kings.

Wednesday haiku

Reclaiming The Blade
turned my mind to my swords of
wood and the Spirit.

Wednesday haiku

The basic skills are
reading and writing and math,
except in Congress.

Reading with one hand tied behind my back

Well, maybe my hand is not exactly behind my back, but it is occupied with keeping the bottle in the right place. That leaves me one hand with which to read. In the dark, no less. And it's the iPhone to the rescue.

As far as the user interface goes, Classics is simply top notch. The formatting for poetry isn't the best, but it's still very readable and easy to use. The books are limited only to what they provide, but Classics offers a growing library of great classic texts.

I've tried out most of the other iPhone e-readers as well. The other e-reader I use all the time is Amazon's Kindle app, and it probably gets even more use than Classics. The free copies of the ESV and TNIV translations of the Bible that were available helped solidify it as my main e-reader on the iPhone. In addition to the $10 books there is a huge library of cheap and free texts.

Stanza has a huge library with lots of free stuff, but even though I downloaded a dozen or so books I never read a single one. Strange. The program itself looked very good, it just never got any love with Kindle and Classics around. I ended up deleting it from my iPhone.

And then there's the new kid on the block, the Barnes & Noble eReader. Of course I downloaded it, if only to see how it compared to the Kindle and Stanza. It felt a little sluggish to me, and I was disappointed in their free bonus offerings for installing it. (They offer up not one but TWO Jane Austen books AND Little Women. Seriously? They couldn't let the use pick from a dozen or so classics?) And then shortly after I installed it The Last of the Mohicans disappeared from my eBook library. Given that that was the one book I didn't have in any other of my readers and actually would have read, I deleted the app.

That all being said, I'm really not the target audience for eBook consumption. If I'm going to read for an extended period of time (HA!) I want paper and ink. But if I want something to read for half an hour or less, I'm reaching for my iPhone. I've got enough free classics on there to keep me occupied for many, many moons.

The best laid plans

Oh, yes, I had these grand visions that I would post something, even if only a little bit, every day this week. And I ended up with Monday-Friday bookends. So it goes.

I got to plink around with iPhone development a couple days this week, though. And I finished a book this week. And I ran two mornings this week (oddly enough, also Monday-Friday bookends). And I listened as the lad's vocabulary doubled over the course of the week, with words like beluga and coffee and yellow entering his repertoire daily. This is life. And life is good.