"I scarce ken take it en"

...sands which, non...

Sometimes I feel desperate obligations to says thanks-- and in that case I usually become immobilized and never send that card.  Of course I'd rather do it in person,  but I usually forget by that time who got me what. And 'tis compounded by the fact that I increasingly leave the gift-giving to Flo, as my judgement in that past as to who would like what has been terribly skewed by my own tastes--as well as a lot of last minute hedging and rationalizations.

If Julie and Ralph are reading this, I do want to say thank you for your exceptional hospitality; and to your children for asking so many questions as well as showing me things. One could only hope that their acceptance of older adults persists until "I R 1":)

But had Flo been along, she would have brought something.  It didn't occur to me that it is good manners to bring something to your host before you eat all their food. 

But--"isn't that just like my Jesus!?"  Grace grown and shown all along the way.  If it were merely by merit I would be a much more lonely person than I am now. 2011 has been darker than most for many people, so I see in the office and hear about from many elsewheres.  But light shines best in the darkness--on a "bright sunshiny day," who would notice a candle; much less "this little light of mine?"

Yes, I know that for many if not most people all such tiny illuminarios are irrelevant; but really more offensive than a matter of indifference, judging by the amount of hostility He still, and now more than ever, engenders in the average person who clings to his self-righteousness with an eternal vengeance, which he would surely take if he could!

(Sorry about the length of that last sentence--maybe Paul would have been ok with it!)

So--if I fail to make a list of events evincing my internal gratitude, forgive me--but I think maybe such inventories  mean increasingly little to those outside of a family who have no idea what we are talking about any more. We still get a few news letters like this; and if you know who and what is being talked about, it's good. Otherwise it's rather difficult to get through 2 pages of single-spaced eventologies:)

But even for that it is well possible to give thanks: for the efforts and the increasingly expensive and inefficient stamp--but who doesn't love to get any mail personally hand-adressed to us?--but also for the fact, as per the title of a Frances Shaeffer book, that there are "no little people"--and "not by chance" are we graced even more by the fading grass of other people remembering us and not crossing us off their list!!!  May it continue until grace runs out--that is, never.

Thanks to one and all for making this one otherwise solitary life possible--to be lived to the full. Keep giving out as you do, esp. in the small things, and you will never lack any good, essential thing--even your cup of cold watere proferred to the angels of whom you are unaware (not me, by the way. I am still just a Bill!)--shall be returned one thousand fold; but sans flooding your bathroom...

Amusing Ourselves to Death

For those many who have not read Neil Postman's groundbreaking work on the limitations of media, among other topics, may I recommend it highly; Along with the book, You Just Don't Understand by Deborah Tannen, these are among the most enlightening books I have had the pleasure to read re: our communication proclivities and inevitable misunderstandings. We may all speak English; but beyond that, we all speak different languages and one must struggle to understand others, realising that only imperfection is in reach; no matter how we try, we can never quite understand what it means to be another person. Call it our gestalt or whatever, the universe has built in limitations not just physically but esp. metaphysically and interpersonally.

But given such a resistive universe and our short lives, it is no wonder that most of us most of the time revert to entertainment.  It's easy, it's fun, it's shallow,it's quick; and even though our tastes in it vary considerably, we find that it relieves the pressure of considering our mortality and our teleology.  It is of faintest comfort on one's deathbed, to be sure; although a few can't resist  still wisecracking as they shuffle off their mortal coil.

(As a silly demonstration, one of my band names while I was in high school was, "The Mortal Coils" teehee; --but death was the last thing on our minds!  It was, ahem, mildly amusing at the time.)

But I re-pine and repent!

I have demonstrated time and again that amusements are one of my chief distractions and addictions, from Calvin and Hobbes to As You Like It (also an ironic title). 

But there does come a time to re-examine the serious side of life--beyond Tragedy, since that too consists of amusement, just the other side of it, as the two masks of theatre represent--but they are still onlly masks. We do like to hear about others' misfortunes so long as it doesn't hit too close to home, and we can still enjoy pointing the finger...

Time today only allows me to raise the subject--I would solicit other views on the matter before I go on with this end 'o year meditation/medication...."Nu?"  (Look that up in your Yiddish dictionary)

And now for something completely silly

to get out of my system before the "very serious" 2012 sets in...

Does confessing 'alas and alack" at one's lack 'o light 'o love
attack the lack?

Soon will set in a lack 'o eleven
but will it be a lack 'o leaven?

(And will the Pack lack any good thing
to tack it all down?)

" without Me u can-do nothing."

(ok well not totally silly...)

Stop me if you heard this one...

Two Romans went into a bar...no, the Forum Bank and one says: Darn! I keep writing "B.C." on all my checks!!!"

Be thou warned; not sure where this is going....

I suppose I have to get it our of my system...our "pilgrimage" to G.B. and Lambeau Field was a complete success and it was hard not to get caught in the spirit of the place--unless you were a Bear fan--and there were not a few in the crowd.  We saw a number of "mixed couples" and blended families with Bear/Packer getups.  It was not unlike a mix of Mardi Gras and our first few minutes at the edge of the Grand Canyon. After hearing about the Pack for all my life (thanks, Papa Packer) to actually attend was awesome, and on Christmas, and with the Bears. (For the record Da Bears are a little ahead in total wins, going back to 1921!)

And with my most favoritest convert Flo!! And Dan, born a Packer fan if I am not mistooken!!!

And where else can you see "Farm and Fleet" as a permanent part of the scoreboard/Jumbotron!?

This is, I think, the last of the small town teams, and by far the most successful, and I suppose that gives me a powerful reason to be a Packer Backer.  As anyone knows who has read either of my blogs, I am highly partial towards rural life, and the contrasts are many beteen urbanism the religion and agrarianism likewise; and time does not allow me to go further today.

But this inevitably brings up the matter of idolatry. Especially the "Fat Tuesday" part. It is said that Wisconsin worships A. Rodgers more than Jesus Christ.  While I can well believe that, I also believe on Best Authority that real Christians are always in the minority and idolatry of some kind is way ahead of the Godhead as far as numbers. Certainly true in Europe, continuously--"by their fruits ye shall know them."

It is only recently that the thinly veiled hatred of Christ the Person has become open hostility. Or feigned indifference.  I say this because on a gut level it is impossible to be impassive, and on a spiritual level, even more so.  Gut check today?

Well, I am certainly challenged.  The old song goes, "Take the Name of Jesus With You," and we were not completely taken in by McWorld, not yet.  For in my new parlance, "In Threedom is Freedom" and "He who the Son sets free is free indeed."  Indeed, outside of Christ there is only misuse of freedom, wasted works, and poor imitations of what life really is designed to be, "In Person" if I may repeat my theme.

The vast majority of us will never awaken to this fact of the three-fold history of the earth--with the final division yet to come, if I may dabble in amo-tour eschatology for one paragraph. BC, AD; then what will we call the remainder, after the Main Event?

I don't know what the "Spirit of Christmas" actually means to all the individuals that utter it--but I must say that I have heard "Season's Greetings" and "Happy Holidays" less than ever, this season. However this may only be a religio-political backlash against the Sadducees of the land.

My personal liabilites lie in the arena of the Populistic Pharisees, who are alive and well--but are by definition not counted among the Temple Elite. (Another repeat of an old theme of mine--and always useful for personal reproof.

Well at least I have this in common with the orthodox Darwinians--I am persistent, consistent, and dedicated to The Temple--but the Temple of the Holy Spirit is what needs full attendance and a "Pack'd House."

Joy Full Holy Days to all!!!

Mystery Pome--not by Walt Kelly:

I jotted this down, mostly unedited. Poem, or not, is not mine to define! I may not even judge myself.

My Place

for surgery
my bed
your body
but already Mine.

"How many beds/battalions do you have?"

your illness
My Body
but already yours
at Bethlehem and Beyond

My salud
your fritz
salvacion a traves de nadie mas

My instruments
your bed
"Whoops" I mean mesa

Your blood
My Blood
conmingled
and running down
over and over and over

Salud!!!

Penses d' Joyeux Noel

(not sure about that French)

Anyway, I have reason to "JOY" since my call time is over for 2011: and we pay a visit to the Packers today, an especial gift to Dan, Flo, and myself just for this once. And to McBears, as swell.

But, oddly, I got to thinking in the bathroom this AM, before my coffee--a dangerous stunt, as Dan once said--about hospitals. I was looking through Christian History magazine about the origin of hospitals and hospices and noticed the medieval paintings of hospital activities, which always involve strangely colored people in beds.

And I realized that the sine qua non of hospitals everywhere and in every age is (drum roll) beds! Usually several. In The House of the Dead, Dostoevsky spends three chapters on the large prison hospital to which prisoners would often hope to land.  I remember the days of multibed wards at the Westside VA circa 1970's. No privacy. But lotsa beds.

It occurred to me that:

One does not go into the hospital to sit in a chair!

You can sit in a chair on the way home!

Your friends and relatives take up all the chairs, anyway-and then some. (We now have couches in our new hospital--but fewer chairs than ever:()

And also note that the bed itself has evolved--by random permutations of curse!--and now looks like something that you might see at the sick bay on Battlestar Galactica!

Even the doctors don't know how they work! Where's the educaytion, man?
.
Well Moo-rie Moor-ie Christmas to all you Good Beefherders who are ruining the planet for the rest of us.

(Christ did come so we could forgive and do good unto our enemies, yes. Vegan alert...

And know for some pin completed different--but a work in progress nonetheless.

The Caffeine Monster Speaketh Forth

First, thanks to Ralph and Julie Lassa and to Claire, Wyatt, and Jenna their children, for having me over for dinner last night.  I forgot to give my compliments to the chefs, but I hereby repent and procaim the meal's beefy goodness for all to see.  (All 2 of you)  Remind me how to get on your blog. I still have trouble making remarks on my own blog--I did it once but can't remember how--My Google doesn't remember my newer phone or password or something.

Second, Pensees (bring your vessels not a few)

I am reminded frequently of this pensee-not-my-own:  "You can have as much of  God as you want! In fact, you already have as much God as you want!!

Finished "The House of the Dead" last night; and once the fetters have been knocked off:: "Well, with God's blessing, with God's blessing," said the convicts in coarse abrubt voices, in which, however, there was a note of pleasure."

"Yes, with God's blessing! Freedom, new life, resurrection from the dead...what a glorious moment!"

While Dosteovsky, like James Joyce, could give full voice to the doubters ( Joyce's version of the Grand Inquisitor is the local priest), it is disingenuous at best, and deceptive at least, to use Ivan Karamazov as an atheist bludgeon, or the Grand Inquisitor as defining his Dost's own views.  What makes this great literature is the ability to voice the thoughts of the opposition with the same literary quality and imagination as he applies to any sympathizer!  We, on the other hand, barely give a superficial listen to the opposition.  One can't even take a poll anymmore in a public place without being suspect before the first sentence comes out!  See Joel Belz story  in a recent issue of World  magazine.

There's a line I like in one of the "Herbie" movies where the leading lady is locked into a sentient volkswagen: and the hippies next to her, say. "We all prisoners, lady!"  What a great excuse!  But we have even and ever better reasons why we should not rescue our neighbor.  An appeal to metaphysics is just one of the many weapons of The Spanish Inquisition--and I wear the nice red uniforms every Friday!!!

Well thanks again to my "de veras" good sams of last night; and to you too, Dennis--a good listener if ever there was one!  God Morning and Happy Christ-Mass!!!

Yes and while we're at it...

I would like to know more about Dost's end if you come across some sources.

The point, as I seem to return to so often that it may be the theme of what I write; perhaps because it poses so many difficulties for me as a relatively "hermetic" person is this:  That Personhood is irreducibly complex; and it seems to be the "crown of creation" as Gracie Slick once placed--sarcastically as always--on one of her early album covers; but there is no reason logically to suppose that said Universe does not originate in Personhood.  Or what one might call hyper-personhood; the First Cause exceeding in all things as above and beyond its effects.  And things are so set up that with entropy that we can never challenge, much less exceed, the speed limit imposed on us by "supra-nature."

Aside, re: Grace Slick: "Would you buy a used car from this woman?"

"Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?"   We critics are so sensitive. Snide asides to our audience, which always likes to see someone skewered.  The gladitorial games are now editorial games.



Moreover am I full of new wine?  But in an old wineskin?  Welll, old is beyond dispute. Do I contaminate the sweetness of the new wine with layers of yeast?  These are mighty questions which no amount of research or self-examination or other peoples' opinions will answer.

Lord?  (a person in the Bible)

Daniel asked me today to read and evaluate a poem he had written, based somewhat on Ecclesiastes, but from the point of one committed to serving God no matter what, as opposed to the point of view of a dissoulute fantastically wealthy king.  While I have minor suggestions, the bulk of the poem is quite consistent with who Daniel is--a young man who has had a servant's heart from the beginning.  Most people could not write such a poem, because their attempts would be filled with ifs, ands, and buts. Which is to say, I'll serve God if He serves me first. Or "proves" Himself with bread, fishes, wine; and power.

Then there are those of us, including myself, who by nature want to be sure there's something in it for me. And me alone.

 I/we wear our skepticism as an armor against the very nature of God. I recall--with dismay--some of the idiot demands I made as one brought up in an aggresively secular mode.  Thus still when I write it is impure and reflects my learned and earned defense mechanisms, rationalization and intellectualization.

 Even Freud, who popularized and prized his catalog of "defense mechanisms, was aware of some of the pitfalls of these two because he-- as a physician to the elite-- saw people consstantly who tried to rationalize destructive behavior as somehow justified "because I can" do such a good verbal coverup of my primitive "adult" behaviors.I shudder when similar people come into my office and usually hope they go somewhere else--soon! But in terms of Freud's own philosophy, he was a terrible observer and, like his clientle, he thought of himself as the exception to his own rules and seemed to actually believe that he could act as judge and jury of the universe; just because he had approbation from various universities.

Reading Tolstoy and Dostoevsky at the same time is quite the jolt, if one has read them separately in the past. "Count" Tolstoy waxes eloquently about the life of the peasant--but no one reads him for that, but for his stories of the upper crust. The peasants on Levin's farm never rise to the status of individuals--but Anna and Vronsky sure do!  Tolstoy's agrarian idealism is of course well known, often expressed by those in retreat from life in Moscow.  But so is his personal vindictiveness, rather on a par with Gandhi's maltreatment of his wife and family, all the while proclaiming without embarrassment his own righteousness.

Thus although I thought long ago that Tolstoy was a Christian writer, I now believe he was a deist, at best.    His great talent for telling stories became merely a striving for success and to be universally beloved--on his own terms. 

Dostoevsky on the other hand is rarely thought of as a Christian writer; perhaps that is because he is the better writer, and wrote according to his sufferings--which were quite real--as opposed to his successes, ambitions, and self-promotions. He let people come to their own conclusions, as O'Connor did.  In Dostoevsky ordinary people do become real, not just a representative of a class.  He could write quite compellingly of the elite of course--but usually more tellingly as Russian writers'  traditions dictated--he had a wealth of material to draw on. However that sort of life is alien to most of us, and in Shimer I identified with Raskalnikov best, as one equipped by the best ideas but the execution of which reminds us of Leopold and Loeb, and Hitchcock's first color film, "Rope."

As "War and Peace" amply shows, Tolstoy could not resist inserting his tedious views of history to the narrative.  He really was a theoritician  (and patrician) at heart.  His skills at rhetoric no longer buoy him up as well as he intended--hence he died utterly alone!  Wanting to universalize according to one's own dim bulb does diminish not only other people but leaves oneself bankrupt as well. 

FYI I am reading Dostoevsky's fictionalized report of his term in Siberia--quite a contrast to the "golden days" of  swirling wheatfields and giddy golden girls whose problems are the same as celebrities have today--can't even shop in peace, eh?  So increasingly isolated and turned  ever more inward--but finding very little there.  Nothing another divorce or affair can't remedy!

Y's Men from a fire....

"Abraham. Take your son, your only son...."

talk about counterintuitive!  But there's more of course--the death of our visions and dreams gives way to something far greater--by the Weh. Yah, Yah Yah, Yaddah, Yaddah, Yaddah, uh, huh, huh!

I have had the last 30 years of my life defined by the death of the petty but still very much in the muddle of it...yesterday I saw an example of this again...but I can't say more about it--in a year or 2 may B. Meanwhilst:

Tolstoy, "Anna Karenina" (yes I am still reading it):

"The children did not know Levin very well and did not remember when they had seen him,but they did not show toward him any of that strange shyness and hostility children so often feel toward grownups who pretend to like them and for which thely are so often painfully punished.  Any kind of pretense may deceive the cleverest and most perspicacious of men; but the most backward child will recognise it, however skillfully it may be disguised, and  be repelled by it.  Whatever shortconmings Levin may have had, there was not a traace of pretense in him and that was why the children showed him the same friendliness that they saw in their mother's face."

(Aside from the Down's child that is....Acceptance Inc.)

NO, NO, NEVER, NEVER,

NOT, NAUGHT, KNOT!



(silly nihilists!)

e-stir; 1979

Before Al Gore invented the internet, BG...

From 1977 to 1979, this was my felt and now acknowledged condition:

"Whoever refuses to be led by God, but instead is led by" (cant, can't, and Kant) "will be IRRITATED by the message of Jesus and will continually complain about it."  --ML

From CS Lewis to Zeffereli's "Jesus of Nazareth" wasn't a long haul in the larger scheme of things. I can't say I put a lot of effort into this insight or others of infinite value--see John 6:43-44.  It certainly wasn't at all like taking organic chemistry-- that was hard work but also a lot of fun (in parallel, at Northwestern, I was reading Dostoevsy--a good balance, at the time !)

Jesus brings Joy, as in the book title, "Surprised by Joy" (double entendre by Lewis, that!); but He's not a "fun guy" and is the very antithesis of entertainment.  Even serious entertainment; this is an industry which was once described by Newsweek re: TV, which they alleged, "has America by the throat." Prophetic but far more than any staffer on the magazine has ever realised.

It takes an act of God, and the Gift of God, i.e. the drawing of The Father, to dislodge us from our inborn self-centeredness and rugged (read "ignorant") independence which is going down the tubes anyway, the more we self-induldge in the greatest delusion of all time.

Meantime, we are irritated when Jesus is mentioned seriously--as I was for years before I met him on my own little Damascus Road-Less-Travelled. Most people deflect the conversation immediately or simply say, "moving right along..."  (see Percy's essay on an "interview with myself- i.e. questions that the media won't ask so I asked them myself--please take time to read this if you haven't yet.)

But the most common irritation-expression is to just include His Name on the "favorites bar" of our profanity--on one level out of spite, and on another level to "dig" at Christians and deliberately seek to belittle Christ and offend His followers; and of course on a personal level to defy and despise the "Man of Sorrows."

"They know not what they do."  I certainly didn't.

This time of year of course is no exception--if anything the level of cursing rises as our materialistic illusions and expectations go into high gear. I read that Christmas was not even much of a holiday until "reinvented" by Prince Albert of England and his contemporary, Chas. Dickens.  While I do not doubt their intent and their sincerity and abilities, it's an artificial celebration from the get-go. I will of course do  right by my culture, insofar as it doesn't offtend my Creator; one cannot flout all traditions after all!  If a few hearts open up --see the Sadducee in Jesus of Nazareth--then I am there.  But I will never go back to my old perpetually dark life, not of "Mere Christianity," but of "Mere Education" lofted by raw ambition.

"HE LIVES"  i.e., HE IS RISEN INDEED!!!

REFLECTIONS ON MATTHEW 8

Christians are given to some very odd permutations on the subject of healing. It's true that Jesus healed everything from Peter's mother's fever, to the sky and the sea. The most common interpretation of this (outside of "higher criticism"--so it calls itself without a hint of irony!) is that Jesus did strings of miracles to show his authority ("even the winds and the sea obey Him--what kind of man IS this!!!"..."That you may know...) as well as God's will ("that none may perish")  and core compassion, ultimately by THE Passion.

"He could not do many miracles...becdause of their unbelief" and I would have to add, becdause of their reversion or addictions to materialistic assumptions centered on, "What's in it for me?" or "How can I impress others with my god-imitation schtick?"

I have been witness to several incontrovertible miracles of healing, some of them very close to home. Being married to a spouse whose faith in God's power and mercy is indefatigable, definitely helps when my faith is at low ebb.  But bringing these events to mind--I have a notebook that contains a few of them--is a help when I am on my own--such as this week when Flo visits our grandaughters and my parents. If you pray, pray for her safety and my parent's sanity!!

But I must say, the greatest miracle of healing is here and now...and continuous.  Think of it--God has healed every disease  or infection I have had in the past 62 years!  I realize that I am overwhelmingly fortunate--and I do the work on it that I am able to do--and like my patients I have areas of vulnerability and inborn weaknesses that I have to deal with.  But the vast majority of my continual healing is done without any conscious effort on my part, apart from the general will to live, the awareness of which does surface from time to time. 

The other thing to consider is that approx. 60% of the illnesses I see are lifestyle related and entirely preventable.  Obesity is the main thing right now (and I have never yet seen a case of Prader-Willi syndrome --see your Funk and Wagnall's for details--or ask "Ste. Google) and countless cases of "Syndrome X".

And we get angry and blame God or some abstract and imaginary force--such as "society--for those who are not aware of their Guardian Wormwood, we can easily blame some other invisible and intangible force that hinders us; or extracts from us our pound of flesh. (If only liposuction really worked, eh?)

When it comes down to it, The Bible has answers available for sickness in general, and for responsibility; and evil. Individual cases require us to ask for insight--not an unreasonable request!  But mostly when people ask for answers, their questions are 99% rhetorical; because they simply will not accept what God has actually said. They want answers, all right; but only if we are willing to assume materialism from the get-go.  The aim of these questions are simply to confirm their prejudices--all of which are unquestioningly borrowed from McWorld. I have yet to see an unbeliever come to God by asking inherently incoherent questions such as these psuedo-proofs--which once again commit ad nauseam the logicicians mistake of "category error."

Speaking of prejudices, I can reccomend again "Stuff White People Like", whose bow is irony and whose arrows are those of logical consistency--another reason why white Europeans are so unbearably dim and unable to discern the absurdity of most of their positions...hence the aformentions lack of faith--or should I say the investment of our basic given faith-gifts into things that don't even begin to deserve them or bring anything back to us--not even interest, as the master said to the unfaithful servant--who by the way only discerned a God of wrath.

Lot's lot

I recall on our last recreational nostalgia trip to Chicago--in which we actually stayed overnight in a hotel near the lake--as we were walking on the streets of Uptown, I was constantly going in and out of whiffs of raw sewage. I don't recall this on any other visits--but then again when I was in Cicago 32 years ago, there was so much industrial waste in the air that I doubt I would have noticed, if this smell was there. 

I recall getting up in the morning--down near Children's Memorial, Lincoln and Fullerton, and finding large and very adherent black flakes on my car.  This would have been around 1970; before I knew Flo existed.

She of course is a Chicago native and wouldn't have been surprised by anyone of this.

I also reflect that our new hospital is now a close neighbor of Del Monte Corp. and in the spring at the time of spring pea packing, there will arise such an odor as to take your breath away.  On the other hand, when you have been in the midst of it for about 10-15 min. you don't notice it anymore. The olfactory warning and gustatory apparatus is quickly desensitized, faster than our other senses and more completely.

It has always amazed me that man is so hyper-adaptable that he can live in the foulest places and call it home. It may be dangerous, dirty, and self-destructive but we can learn to love--or ignore--that too.

It reminds me of the old joke about the young lord whose butler was guiding him home, as the young man was quite intoxicated, when he queried his caretaker, "What is that strange odor, Jeeves?"

"That, sir, is fresh air."

I have actually met people in Chicago who were afraid to go outside its city limits, as if they would be destroyed (like Lot's wife?) if they set foot even in the closest suburb. Well so be it but as one well-known but despised prophet said,

"Remember Lot's wife"

STATUS POST MARION MONTGOMERY AND "THE PERMANENT THINGS" and yet...and yet....

12-11-11

From: “Notes from a Dead House”  --from Dost’s prison days

“But here I have been trying to classify all the prisoners, and that is hardly possible.  Real life is infinite in its variety in comparison with even the cleverest abstract generalization, and it does not admit of sharp and sweeping distinctions.  The tendency of real life is always towards greater and greater differentiation.  We, too, had a life of our own of a sort, and it was not a mere official existence but a real inner life of our own.”

“…there is something true and humane at the back of this idea—all are men; all are human beings.  But the idea is too abstract.  It overlooks too many practical aspects of the question, which cannot be grasped except by experience.”

There is no standard by which to measure the soul and its development.  Even education itself is no test.  I am ready to be the first to testify that, in the midst of these utterly uneducated and downtrodden sufferers, I came across instances of the greatest spiritual refinement. The contrary happens too; education is sometimes found side by side with such barbarity, such cynicism, that it revolts you, and in spite of the utmost good nature and all previous theories on the subject, you can find no justification or apology.”

Greater and greater individuation, eh?  And why this tendency?  The cause has to be greater than the effect…

Hobbit meets "Habit"

“I think the reason we can’t agree on this is because there is a difference between our two devils. My Devil has a name, a history, and a definite plan. His name is Lucifer, he’s a fallen angel, his sin is pride, and his aim is the destruction of (or, if not, distraction from-comment mine) the Divine Plan.  Now I judge that your devil is co-equal with God, not His creature: that pride is his virtue because there isn’t any Divine plan to destroy. My devil is objective and yours is subjective. You say one becomes “evil” when one leaves the herd. I say that depends entirely on what the herd is doing.

The herd has been known to be right, in which case the one who leaves it is doing evil. When the herd is wrong, then the one who leaves is not doing evil but the right thing. If I remember rightly, you put that word, evil, in quotation marks which means the standards you judge it by there are relative: in fact you would be looking at it there with the eyes of the herd.”

--F. O’C

“The Habit of Being” ( after which this blog is, hopefully playfully named) p 456

To John Hawkes, 28 November, 1961

Cultural or sociological half-or-less definitions of evil tend to enhance it, as the 20^th Century more or less proved.

The disembodiment of Lucifer is not his disembowelment—quite the opposite in fact—and the results are not just “real” but “hyper-real.”

reply to Dennis' comment

Just before my residency we explored--as we were supposed to do as UW grad--nothern Wisc. for a practice site--one of which was an office and home combined--the only one I have ever seen. I thought it was "interesting"--but Flo immediately nixed that--so--I know u!!!

MOB'd

I can hardly let this day pass without comment. Is this merely, "The Day that will live in infamy." or is it something else?  Many "Pearl Harbor days" have passed since that 9/11 political equivalent without a similar event.  Yet we choose to commemorate evil--"then the terrorists win."

With no disrespect to our vets, I will remember this day with joy for something entirely different.  This is opening day for a brand new hospital and for me a very different practice, provided by the architectural and conceptual changes in my--read "our"-- office alone.  Suddenly I find myself in the wide open spaces, not just on the outside--though we are now surrounded by fields and not houses--but a different sort of space inside the office which is somewhat the reverse of the outside changes. That is--bear with me please and use some imagination-- the houses have now moved inside. My office space, once secluded at the far reaches of the old MOB ( yes, that's right=Medical Office Building), so far out that cell phone reception was even difficult; is now right on the beaten path. 

"My door is always open."  That seems to be literally true now. And Dr. Scholl's office is only 1 door away. And thereby hangs a tale of God's Grace. I will attempt to be brief and fill out details as needed in the future, even though my gratitude seems to be and hopefully will remain or grow, boundless. "Doctor without Borders" indeed. (It helps that I no longer have the desire to browse bookstores!)

For years I have desired to have a Christian medical partner, in addition to my life's partner, Flo. I even hired a recruiter, briefly, when I was in private practice.  And what did I have move in? A Chinese atheist! Very funny, Lord.

I am finding once again that the more I try to choose my circumstances, and manipulate people, the worse things get. Micromanagement seems to be from hell, and the devil's choice; as it was Cain's.

But the more choices I leave to God, the more amazing things He does, right under my supposedly sensitive nose. Yesterday Dr. Scholl invited me into his office, to pray for our "new" (extralegal?) partnership; and to invite the Holy Spirit to do what He will with us--again, without plans or force or plans of force, which is the deeper trust--over the years we will be together. At least until one of us retires!

So my prayer has been answered after 30 years--after I had given up on it--and by my own personal physician too! The story is the same story as happened with the free clinic. I always dreamed of working in a clinic called Trinity--and now I do!

More later--I need to get back to The MOB!

DEPERSON ALL IZATION

From almost every sector we hear that depersonalization is a peculiarly modern problem and increasing due to technology and growing numbers of human beings.  Yet many of these same sectors contribute to the problem by depersonalizing what is inherently a very personal thing--evil.  One could certainly see this through numerous 19th and 20th Century philosophers and other writers.  By thinking of evil in the abstract, it quickly vanishes--as a theoretical problem. But in such an environment we are also instantly thrown off our guard and substitute "anger management" for any outliers.  Personal evil actually becomes unthinkable.

This contrubutes to the polarization of the body politic--evil is defined by being opposed to me and mine. Or to use Christian Lander's paradigm, evil is being with "the wrong sort of white people."

(I highly recommend his book, "Stuff White People Like" which is even funnier if you hear him read it.)

The Bible never gives in to the temptation to de-individualize evil--or good for that matter. Therefore it is highly objectionalble to philosophers and scientists (so-called) alike.  Yet it can never be a matter of mathematics nor can it be predicted with any certainty.  To try to do so is simply to use the wrong tools for the job.  And electrician's toolbox is totally different from that of a woodworker. Philosophically, if you will, this is called a category mistake; to which hubris is highly and almost always prone.

It's the equivalent to the old saw, "sending a boy to do a man's job."  But it may be the worse-reverse: sending a man to do a child's job!!!

"Living with Ingratitude"

When office staff or others point out to me the fact that many of my patients are not grateful for what we have done, I remind them of what I've been saying to myself for at least 30 years, to wit: If I got into this profession to get people to be thankful to me, I'm in the wrong profession.

People, as Flannery O observed, take all grace for granted and thereby resist it with all their might; most tellingly when they refuse to grant it to others, and take it for granted that they have earned it for themselves.
Rather like the parable of the guy who owed millions, was forgiven all of it, and immediately went out and beat up anothert guy who owed him a few bucks!

People who "go there" by their own wits, like unto Lot, often have to be rescued from their folies--I do that (the rescue thing, that is) all day long.  But it is also true that most people want the benefits of change without have to change even their habits, much less their manners of thought or sentience.

As I said earlier, Truth has few friends in high places.  Those who lord it over others are especially resistant to change. This was Hagar's problem: even tho Sarai chose her to bed down with Abraham, as soon as Hagar's son was born, she began to despise Sarai herself. This demonstrates another aspect of the Murphian Corollary: "When all things seem to be going well for you, obviously you have overlooked something."

"After all, human nature is corrupt--when life seems to be going well for us, it's difficult to resist the temptation to be rude and disrespectful to others."

I would say that medicine is a very humbling profession; at least to me when I am in a frame of mind liable to receive it--I get constant and quick feedback almost daily in regards to my presumptiveness.  Today we are moving to our new hospital--so things feel like they are going well for us. But this is a dangerous illusion, and mistakes are much more likely to be made in transition, and while we are enjoying the newness; and for some indefinite time afterwards.

Many among us look to the new, to save ourselves. Yet we take the same old "us" into the "new" settings and our "tech" will come to reflect our defects more and more as their reach is extended electronically.
This is a process of amplification that we, like rock 'n rollers, insist upon--but our voices and our vices still remain small-time and we will come to regret some of our "loud insistences." 

And though actual-factual truth is despised, it has a tendency to surface, as Murph said, "at the worst possible time."

--further news as "facts" warrant...

PS, extra thought of Bill E, the Diminutive/Dhimmi: I thought of a new adjective to describe the internet: "Cloying."   U like?