St. Jerome's Library

2003-04-01T23:16:00.000-06:00

Wagons, ho!

I've really enjoyed Blogger, especially since it made it very, very easy to get started with this whole blogging thing. But for various reasons, I've outgrown it. I hope that you'll all come to visit me at my new blog, also called St. Jerome's Library. It's actual address is http://www.stjeromeslibrary.com/weblog (please update your bookmarks). I won't be posting anymore here. Rest assured, however, the archives have moved to the new site (sorry, commenters, previous comments didn't make it.) I promise, though, that the new blog has lots of spiffy features (courtesy of Moveable Type) and I'll be adding to them as time goes on. See you in the new location.

2003-03-26T13:44:00.000-06:00

Over on Tripp's blog, he's posted an interesting essay on the religious idea of "the city." In the comments, people have been discussing the ways that urbanism has appeared in the Bible. As you all know, I am a huge fan of cities in general, and Chicago in particular. I also have no small interest in the Bible. Needless to say, I've thought about this matter frequently, and I take some issue with the characterization of biblical cities that has been put forward there. Accordingly, I would like to refer everyone to the article on this topic in the latest issue of Common Good (10-11). In it, Jay Wilcoxen lays out biblical urbanism beautifully. He comes to the conclusion that cities in the Bible are far more varied, and their metaphorical value much more ambiguous, that it might appear at first.

2003-03-25T15:38:00.000-06:00

Earlier today I got a surprise telephone call from an old friend. He is the Executive Director of my favorite charity of all time, Companis. The idea works like this: people give up a year of their lives in service to the wider community. They live together and work for other non-profit organizations that could not otherwise afford them. In other words, Companis might provide an office worker for an AIDS hospice at the price they could afford instead of what the market would charge. Interestingly, the Companis community has members from all stages and walks of life. This allows them to make wonderful matchings that really serve the needs of the world. When they were here in Chicago, they placed a retired chef in a soup kitchen! Talk about finding the place where the world's deep hunger meets your deep joy (Buechner). Using this model, Companis has provided over $1,500,000 worth of service to the community. Their slogan says it all: they do what would otherwise go undone. In Chicago they called it, "adding a year to your life." If you're at a crossroads (and that crossroads is, or could be, in Seattle) give this serious consideration.

Special note: I am informed that their website "contact" thing isn't working right. Write to me if you want to contact them.

2003-03-24T14:56:00.000-06:00

The good people at Blogspot must have a system for deciding what ads to show at the top of any particular blog. I notice that the Library here often has religious ads. Over on Tripp's blog, entitled jesus in lint form, I've been getting ads for vacuum cleaners.

I have no response to that.

2003-03-24T09:44:00.000-06:00

Nothing about the war today. Instead, something both more, and less, serious.

For a long time now, I've thought that the Grateful Dead song, "Uncle John's Band" was a good metaphor for the seminary experience. (I also believe that "Son of Preacher Man" and "Wonderful Tonight" contain everything you need to know about being in love, but that's for another time) I've never set out my theory in detail, however, until now.

It seems clear to anyone who has survived the first year in the seminary that "the first days are the hardest days." Changing from our secular existence to one that is focused on God more often than not is a jarring experience. Most of us find, however, that we're more temperamentally suited to it. It isn't hard to maintain once we've learned it so, God (the singer) reminds us "don't you worry anymore." The reference to Easy Street is a clear reminder that once called by God to this life, the traditional temptations of money and power become more dangerous than ever. The next two lines remind us of what theological inquiry is all about, "think this through with me" and "let me know your mind" are the two most important tools in learning to "think like a theologian" (to paraphrase Prof. Kingsfield in The Paper Chase). And, of course, the thing that the faculty (in their role of formation mentors) needs to know "is are you kind." They can teach you the rest.

Once you've passed the beginning of seminary, it's time to make the hard choices. What exactly a "Buck Dancer's Choice" is, I'm not sure. But it seems to me that it is a real choice, not like the "magician's force." You've got real decisions to make when you finish your core classes—about what kind of ministry to have, what kind of priest to be, and how to balance your life. Even though "you know all the rules by now" you should still "take my advice." The singer, of course, is still God, and the reversal in the order shows the importance of submitting to the call first, and only then relying on your intellect to show you the correct path. When you begin to do serious formation, the question of following is crucial. The last four lines make clear how important that decision really is.

The bridge, for me, is about CPE. There's no doubt that before CPE, you have never "seen the like." It is here that ministers are made or broken, in my view. The cannonballs represent the forbidding appearance of the CPE program, with all its applications and interviews and gatekeepers. But cannonballs don't make a good wall. For one thing, you could see through it, and for another, it would fall over. Anyone who has finished CPE will know why their motto is, "Don't Tread on Me." It seems clear in the GD version who "Uncle John" is, but in my interpretation he could be none other than the Baptist. He and his band sit right there by the (Jordan) riverside. And indeed, there are important things to talk about, especially at this point in the seminary experience with the tide rising all around you.

At this point in the song, the singer becomes the seminarian, who begins to respond to God directly. They acknowledge that that the crow (who represents the call) has been constant throughout their lives. God appears always, like the rising sun, and goes throughout the world like the rushing wind. It's getting close to the time for seeking work, though, which takes a lot of time while school continues. Hence the next two lines about being busy and what that does to your interest in petty dislikes. I also note that it is about this time in the seminary experience that people begin to realize that though lots of ground has been covered, it goes very quickly.

Now we're getting to the time of leaving seminary. The "silver mine" is the seminary, which has so many riches to provide. But it's known as "Beggar's Tomb" because we know everything we have comes from God, and it is here that we have buried our old lives to take up the life of ministry. The violin represents our ministerial formation, and we stand ready to hear God's voice and play whatever tune is called. At this point we're really ready for God to say how the song of our lives will go.

We return to the chorus, again seeing Uncle John's Band by the river. This time however, the singer has become a shepherd in God's flock and is encouraging others to take up their ministry, either ordained ministry like us (come with me) or whatever other ministry God might give (go alone). Either way, "he's come to take his children home." Also note that the tide is no longer rising. Indeed, the band seems to have tamed the tide with its music.

For a more classical interpretation of the references in the song, check out the Annotated Grateful Dead pages for Uncle John's Band.

2003-03-21T16:31:00.000-06:00

I have two points to make about the war.

First, I noted that at the end of the first day of combat operations in Kuwait/Iraq, the death toll stood at 1. A marine was shot in the stomach and killed during the early hours of the invasion. What a complete tragedy. I won't say waste, as some others might, since I do believe that what we're doing over there is good. I still don't like the way we're doing it, but that marine was idealistic just to have enlisted, and brave to have fought at all. A tragedy indeed. Simultaneously, several hundred of Iraqi soldiers surrendered to coalition forces.

At about the same time as I found out these facts, I learned that at a protest rally in San Francisco, an activist fell from the Golden Gate Bridge and died. Another horrible tragedy. Another idealistic and brave person cut down doing what seemed important and right. At that same rally, over 1,000 were arrested and taken into custody.

These facts rubbed up against each other strangely. One dead in the war, one dead protesting the war. More prisoners in San Francisco than in Basra. It reminded me that it is always hard to decide what to stand up for, and always dangerous to do it. Answering the call to put yourself in harms way for others often results in getting harmed, no way around it. I doubt that these two people would have enjoyed meeting each other, but I kind of wish they had. Brave idealistic people are pretty rare in the world and they should know each other.

Because when committed creative people work together, we often find a new solution which had been concealed in the darkness between two other suggestions. And when we give up the opportunity to find a better way because of our all too human jealousies and prejudices… well, that's the biggest tragedy of all.

The second point is this. I'm not going to watch the war on television anymore. A friend of mine has described it as "That new reality show, 'Target: Iraq.'" I laughed. I'm not laughing anymore. Earlier today Ari Fleischer faced a room full of reporters who frankly couldn't believe that President Bush hadn't watched the "shock and awe" bombings on television. They kept asking the same question over and over again. "It was very dramatic. Didn't the President see any of it on television?" The Press Secretary was very diplomatic in his answer, mostly saying things like "The President ordered this attack and he knows what happened" and "He doesn't need to see it on television to know what this attack was like." What I heard was, "The President is too busy running the country to sit at home in the middle of the day watching a shifting green cloud on television while reporters interview each other." I don't often think that we should do what President Bush does, but in this case he's right. Don't watch the TV. Stay engaged with the news, yes. That's our right and our responsibility as citizens. But watching it happen "live," like some kind of action movie is a disservice to the men and women who are risking their lives. They're not doing it for our entertainment, or worse yet, prurient interest. Just do your job, and let them do theirs… in peace.

2003-03-19T11:51:00.000-06:00

All over the world on Sunday, people protested pre-emptive war in Iraq. As you know, I, too, oppose pre-emptive war because I think that it isn't the best path to our goal of a peaceful and free Iraq, without its current tyrannical leader. But that is a good goal, and if war becomes the only way, I'll support it then. I suppose that I would say I am a member of the "anti-war" movement but not a member of the "peace movement" per se. And that's why I was so disappointed to see that one of the bigger rallies downtown featured a performance by Joan Baez.

Now, I love her music, and I would go to hear her sing at Symphony Hall, or anywhere else. But I don't think she brings any credibility to the movement at this time. Rather, I think that a great deal of the current "peace movement" are reacting principally out of flashbacks to the 1960's (whether or not the protesters were even born then) during which time they correctly perceived that the US was engaging in a war called for by a policy rather than by the American people. What we're doing now seems a lot the same. But it is not.

This is not a war being fought for policy reasons only. It is true that Saddam Hussein is a clear and present danger to the people of Iraq and his neighbors. He has been so throughout his reign over the country that once contained the Garden of Eden. Today it is a vast wasteland, populated by frightened and abused people. As fellow humans, created by God, we have an obligation to help them. Toppling the Baath Party, while extreme and unfortunate, seems to be the only way. Iraqi citizens are not being oppressed by an idea only (as was good enough for our government in the Viet Nam conflict). They are genuinely suffering under a dictatorial madman without respect for the common good of his people, or ours.

Does that mean we should go to war? Not necessarily. However, comparisons to Viet Nam are not helpful, and dredging up the icons of that past era only muddy the genuine issues we need to be struggling with today. Our understanding of just war theory, international diplomatic convention, and other principles that guide decisions about war and peace fell with the World Trade Center on September 11th. We need to be building them up again, rebuilt for our era, not a past time. We must engage in hard theological, political, and yes, military thinking. And we can't work while people are swaying back and forth with their eyes closed, holding a candle, and singing "Give Peace a Chance."

Just as those activists who opposed the ideological wars in the 1960's were right to reject the reactions and methods of those whose attitudes toward war and peace were formed in an earlier era, so those of us who oppose war in this era must reject what came before us.

To Joan Baez and those who opposed war in the 1960's: Thank you. Your witness is an important touchstone for those of us who benefited from your work and thought. But we'll take it from here.

2003-03-17T15:49:00.000-06:00

Lately I have been meditating on Luke 2:41-51, the story of Jesus going to the temple at age twelve. You know the story, how Mary and Joseph took him to Jerusalem for the festival, and how in all the crush of people they left without him. But more importantly, how they searched for him everywhere and finally found him in the temple, and how he responded to them with all the parent-weariness of any twelve year old, "Did you not know I must be in my Father's house?"

In my Father's house. It's that phrase that has grabbed me this time. We've heard many sermons on this passage (well, not really, it's a very infrequent reading in the lectionary) and they all seem to say that Jesus has gotten a tiny glimpse of his destiny. That he knows he must serve God, and that the temple is where to begin. Shouldn't it have been obvious?

But no, it's not obvious. How must that saying have sounded to Joseph, the proud carpenter? It must have hurt him badly. He had endured so much over the years—derision and scorn from his family, his friends, and his neighbors, all because he stayed with the woman he loved and raised their child. And now the child himself has thrown it at him. In my Father's house. In my real Father's house. My heart breaks to think of what it must have sounded like to Joseph to hear Jesus reject him and the carpenter's life he had worked hard to prepare for the young man.

But isn't that way for all of us? Doesn't there come a time when we realize that no matter how much we love our earthly father, we can't always follow him? We must seek out and follow our Spiritual father, whoever that turns out to be. Isn't that the way for all of us, that we must let our children grow up and let them go into the house of their Fathers?

How hard that must be to hear and to do.

Wednesday is the feast of St. Joseph, who sacrificed so much to make Jesus into the man he became. He gave up his own dreams of a conventional marriage (untroubled by angels and visions), his place in his community, even his plans for a son to take over his business. On that day I am going to say a prayer of thanksgiving for my parents and all they did to open up the way for me toward the man I am becoming. I will pray that God will bless them for their sacrifices and that they will understand better than Mary and Joseph could when I say, "Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house."

2003-03-16T21:06:00.000-06:00

Ah, dang it. Sometimes there's just too much to write. I started on three separate essays for this blog today, and none of them came together in any decent way. Not to worry, though, I've saved drafts of them all, and we'll probably see them come out over the next few days. But they're just not ready for prime time yet. Still as a kind of teaser, I'll say that I have a thought or two about George Bush's religious rhetoric, a rant about center/left Christianity's fear of explicitly biblical language, and a pointed remark to make about recent trends in the peace movement. Plus, of course, the second half of my Jerome biography. It could be a good week here in the library if these essays can get out of each other's way and solidify.

This might be a another good opportunity to remind you all, that putting your name in the Blogarithm box at the bottom of this page will get you an e-mail whenever I update my page (maximum of one mail per day). It's a good thing. See you back here soon.

2003-03-15T06:30:00.000-06:00

Here's an update to a previous post. As I was finishing up my Ember Letter, I got a call that some very significant progress had been made toward my ordination. A logjam has broken open at diocesan headquarters and a whole bunch of water is flowing downstream again. Good news. Very good news. Now, I'm still probably about two years from being ordained, but yesterday afternoon it was going to be never if something didn't change. I'm rewriting the heck out of my Ember Letter (today is the last of the Ember Days for Spring so I'm not late yet, technically), but I'm not going to edit my previous post on this topic. It was true at the time, and it has a date stamp on it. Thanks to everyone who has supported me thusfar. It's not over yet, but I wanted to take a moment's breather and say that.

2003-03-14T06:33:00.000-06:00

OK my friends. Those of you who know me even a little bit are aware that I love (at least) two things-God and popular culture. You also know that I rarely get the two confused. But what will I do when they get confused for me? I've been following this story for a while now, many months to be exact, but it's starting to leak out into the popular media, and I don't want to seem like one of the last to know. And readers of St. Jerome's Library shouldn't be either.

Mel Gibson is making a movie. (That's not the news.) The movie is called The Passion and is a retelling of the story of Jesus' last days. In a twist destined to have me standing in line for longer that I did to see Star Wars Special Edition (though it certainly won't be necessary), the film is being shot entirely in Aramaic and Latin, and will not be subtitled. Gibson feels that people know the story and that it will have more emotional impact if it is shown "raw" rather than filtered through any modern language.

Oh my goodness. This film is going to be great-assuming anyone gets to see it. There are persistent rumors that the film will get distribution, will not get distribution, will be bad, or will be opposed by the Catholic Church.

What! A film about Jesus that will closely follow the Bible will be opposed by the Church? That's right. There's some question about whether or not the film will be Orthodox... or perhaps it will be too Orthodox. See, Mel Gibson is a Catholic, but not a Roman Catholic. He's a big supporter and follower of the traditionalist Catholic movement, which opposes most of the reforms of the Second Vatican Council. For example, his church in Los Angeles doesn't have the Tridentine Mass occasionally, as many churches do. It is an exclusively Latin church. And so on.

Check out this story in the New York Times last Sunday called Is the Pope Catholic...Enough? (a free registration will be required).

Whereas I would theoretically love to find that people are covering church disputes from hundreds of years ago in the New York Times, I'm not sure this is a good idea. In the popular press, these theological disputes could represent people of faith, and especially the people who work with them professionally, in a pretty bad light. It might make it look like we want to argue about ancient languages (or in ancient languages) while people starve around the world. This article even mentions Gibson's traditional Catholicism in the same breath as Richard Gere's Buddhism and Madonna's devotion to the Kabala. (I don't mean that these stars are not serious about their religions. I mean only to point out that the popular media treat religion as a "trendy" topic which can have waves of influence and popularity-like Rosie O'Donnell, or the Grammys.)

I'll sure have more to say about this movie and the issues surrounding it as time goes on and we get closer to its release next year. But until then, Mel Gibson is making a movie about Jesus in Aramaic and Latin. It's like they're reading my mind.

2003-03-13T22:33:00.000-06:00

Here in the church, we are in the middle of the "Ember Days." These are the quarterly days set aside to pray for the ministry of the church and its members. For those of us who are along the path toward ordination, it is also the time when we write to our ordinary about our progress and where we are at in our faith journey. These letters can be pretty intimate, since they are an excellent opportunity to reflect on where we're at with someone we're sure has an interest. Here's a short excerpt from mine, reflecting on a recent and acute challenge.

"It’s very exciting to think that for the next Ember period, I’ll have met [my discernment committee], and will have a lot to write in this space." That's a quote from my last Ember letter to you. You might imagine that I would be pretty upset about the lack of progress we are able to make along this road, I know I would. And sometimes, it's true. But, I am trying to remember what St. Ignatius teaches about wanting earthly rewards. He reminds us that we shouldn't seek them. They are snares from the Enemy and are vain distractions from what should be our singular focus—praising and serving God.

And that's what's causing the problem these days. I really have freed myself from the embarrassment of graduating from the seminary and not being ordained like my classmates. I'm not even bothered anymore by having to correct people who call me "Reverend." But I am still angry that I cannot serve the church the way I am called. I see the state that the church is in, and how much my gifts could help achieve its goals. And it just makes me sad to know that the church doesn't even yet see me well enough to mourn with me while we work through this important discernment process together.

And yet, hope springs eternal. Perhaps it's just the warmer weather and the melting snow, but I hold out hope that progress will be made before this summer's Ember Days. And of course, I am consoled by the ministry I have been able to do here at PCG. As the Ember days scripture says, "Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together."

Back into the fields, then, for me. I have much work to do, and many ways to praise God while I do it.

2003-03-12T20:51:00.000-06:00

I once heard a well known scholar described as someone who "never had a thought he didn't publish." Well, as a writer myself, I can say for sure that it isn't true. Whenever you set down to work on a project there is always something extra, something left over, at least one good thought that has to go unpublished – until now. Through the miracle of blog technology, there is now somewhere for those outtakes to go, a place where good ideas get a second chance. So, without further ado, here is an outtake from my St. Ignatius presentation.

One of the most basic features of Ignatian spirituality is the idea of "indifference." Ignatius believed that the one and only purpose of our life on earth is to praise God, and thereby to save our souls. Whenever we do anything, we should do it "for the greater glory of God." What that should be, though, Ignatius has no idea. The spiritual exercises are, in essence, a way of determining which of the various options we have is the one that would bring the greatest glory to "His Divine Majesty." God alone will reveal what we should do. We need only remain open to God's call, and to prayerfully discern it.

In the sixteenth century, there was a definite hierarchy to society, both secular and religious. Ignatius believed that priesthood was a "better" state than being married. But he didn't think that everyone should be a priest. God calls some to matrimony, and these people would bring greater glory to the creator through their families than by doing anything else. Likewise, Ignatius taught that actual economic poverty is closer to Christ than riches. But those who are called to temporal wealth should use what they have been given as best they can. We must remain indifferent to these various states, preferring neither one, nor the other. We should not endeavor to achieve wealth, or long life, or professional success as ends in and of themselves, but only as responses to an authentically perceived call of the "Heavenly King."

It's a difficult concept to grasp, and one that is even more difficult to live out. Putting Ignatian indifference into practice requires two very demanding attitudes. The first is constant discernment of spirits so as to know what to do. The second is a carefully studied balance, which allows maximum freedom to glorify God as instructed. It can be a little disorienting to people surrounding the Ignatian, and even the Ignatian at times. But I like it. There is a lot of peace to be found in trusting God to show the way, and a lot of energy to be found in doing God's will, especially when you aren't wasting energy fighting for your own (or the Enemy's own) desires.

Ignatian indifference. Take it or leave it—as God commands you.

2003-03-12T11:34:00.000-06:00

Sorry for yesterday's silence (or, more accurately, yesterday's pithy quote which took up space instead of leaving some silence). It was a strange day, and I didn't have anything to contribute. I'm working on something for later today, but I wanted to get a posting in saying that I will have more soon. Just as an aside, I want to say that I am posting this note from my newly wireless laptop during a lull in a meeting. The person I'm meeting with is talking on the phone. This is such a big bonus for my productivity. It's pretty cool here in the future.

2003-03-11T21:14:00.000-06:00

It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt. - Mark Twain

2003-03-10T22:37:00.000-06:00

Last night the youth group I co-lead at church had its monthly dinner, and we watched a movie together. The film, Matewan, was chosen by our associate rector, who is leaving soon to take over a parish of his own. It concerns a union organizer who gets involved with a coal strike in the town of Matewan, WV during the early 20's. He thought that it would be a good way to deliver his good-bye message, about faith, and social justice, and solidarity between people. I enjoyed it the first time I saw it, but this time was special as well.

There is one scene that is always difficult for me to watch. In this scene, the Stone Mountain Mining Company's evil hired muscle have captured a union man who has been stealing coal to heat the strike camp. They force him to reveal the names of his fellow conspirators. He names five names. They murder him anyway with a straight razor. After his death, they learn that the names he gave are all men who died in mining accidents years before. It's hard enough to think about the treachery of the hired goons, and the surprising faithfulness of the murdered union man. But this time, there was an additional twist. Our priest wisely warned the assembled youth that a rather gruesome scene was upcoming, in case they wanted to turn away. Several did. But some of those who did not were unhappy since the promised "gruesome scene" wasn't as graphic as they imagined. In fact the violence isn't in the blood, but in the hearts of the men who are able to do such a thing.

I'm not going to make this an essay about how kids today are all inured to graphic violence. Instead I'm going to make a comment about how, for some reason, we've lost the ability to see the horror in the way we treat each other. I've read, seen, and enjoyed my share of horror fiction and true crime, and that's always the part that frightens me the most. It's the quotidian evil that is the most terrifying. When the ordinary gets out of hand, that's when things get really scary.

I've wanted to read The Devil in the White City, the double biography of famous architect Daniel Burnham and H.H. Holmes, America's first urban predatory serial killer who stalked Chicago's Columbian Exposition. The influx of tourists covered Holmes' murder spree, and if it hadn't been for an effort to fraudulently claim some insurance money, he and his "murder house" would never have been uncovered.

We've been talking about community lately, and this is, I suppose, tangentially related. The Matewan murders and those of H.H. Holmes were horrible because they happened within a context of dehumanized others. It happens every day, and my youth group couldn't see it. That's what worries me more than anything else.

2003-03-09T07:28:00.000-06:00

One thing I've been learning about blogs is that they are a lot like being at a big dinner party during the cocktail hour. Someone will post a provocative statement and others will pick up on it through the comments, or perhaps by posting a thing on their own blog. Each blog is a different conversation centered on a different opinion-haver, but many have the same people in them, and it's possible to "overhear" what's going on in other places and have them influence the conversation you are hosting.

Anyway, lately there has been a conversation going on over on some other blogs I follow (notably AKMA and Trevor, though Laura has picked it up, too) on the question of community—what it means and how we should understand it. I've posted some small comments on these other blogs, but here is my thought. Why do we restrict ourselves to small, self-marginalized communities?

Some of these blogs have only 20 or so regular readers. St. Jerome's library has even fewer just at present. But because they are small, we seem big. We are able to perceive our own influence and therefore feel good about our ability to interact with the world. The good part of all this is that the aggregate power of this larger community will be able to affect the next larger scale group. At least, that's the way I understand James Luther Adams and his concept of "voluntary associations."

But sometimes we don't make it easy for these voluntary communities to take their place in larger society. Indeed, sometimes we actively impede it. The other day we had a visiting priest at our church that had done some wonderful work with alternative worship. He said to us that his working group's motto had been, "If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space." He smiled as he said this. We did, too. But, over the last week that saying has been gnawing at the edges of my brain. I've been trying to have a thought about it, and I wasn't sure what it was. But it's coming to me now.

On the net, there's almost a veneration of the marginalized, the tiny, the secret, the exclusive. I got into the internet early, and I remember very well the disdain we all had for those who came after us. We openly wept for those who wouldn't know the protocol to cross the BITNET gateway, and therefore gain access to more networks. I knew people who were on THE WELL in the early days and clung to their e-mail addresses like nobles sitting in their castles as their land was sold off around them. I know people who are still proud of their numerical Compuserve addresses, even though they are a complete nightmare to remember and use compared to what we have now. All in the name of being able to say "I was here first."

The internet has brought together lots of small communities into one somewhat less small community, it's true. You don't have to read Dan Savage long to realize that. But, there's still a fierce pride in that smallness. To some extent, people want to live in these small communities.

This is almost exactly the opposite philosophy that I have at work. We try to take people who are not used to having political influence (that is, people of faith, especially moderate and liberal people of faith, who find their influence being overshadowed by the religious right) and return their voices to them through the miracle of aggregation. I got hired to bring the power of the net to bear on this organizational task. I love it. It's God's own work to bring people together and remind them that they are part of something larger, and I, for one, am getting increasingly unhappy with the self-exclusion that many people seem to find so satisfying and comfortable.

Because I know many other religious people will be reading this, I want to say that monasticism is all well and good, but that's not my calling. I don't mean that no one should withdraw from larger communities or that it isn’t a valid path to God. I'm just saying that I shouldn't, and I’m finding in the internet mentality a veneration of the exclusive that I find counter-intuitive at best, and counter-productive at worst, given the task God has set before me.

"If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space," indeed! That's our space! That is land God promised to our ancestors, and to us. Be fruitful and multiply! Fill the earth and guide it! Amen.

2003-03-08T12:48:00.000-06:00

Back in the old days, the great cartoonist Phil Foglio had a strip that ran in Dragon magazine called "What's New (With Phil and Dixie)." In this strip, the main character (Phil) would promise every issue to finally address the question of "Sex and D&D." Each issue he would get distracted and go on to some other topic and it became a running joke as he always promised to get back to it next time. Invoking the spirit of that old strip, I have to say that we'll get back to the St. Jerome biography next time. This time I want to talk about the possibility of war in Iraq. Keep reading, though, I think some people will find my position to be surprising, and I promise you that neither the essay to follow nor my position in general, vilifies anyone merely for their own thoughts on the same issue. It is offered out of a spirit of genuine concern and lots of thought.

I am a Christian and a scholar, and that means I have to take seriously the issue of just war theory as it has developed over the course of history. I don't have to accept it, but I do have to interact with the theory and have some opinion about it. As it happens, I do accept the theory, since I think that it is the best description of how to look at the issues of "Ought We To Wage War?" and "If So, How Should We Do It?" That said, I will also say that I don't think that just war theory is closed. We must re-evaluate it in every age. The ancients who first formulated it couldn't have foreseen the advances in technology and statecraft of the Middle Ages that necessitated St. Aquinas' revision of Augustine's theory. Likewise, Aquinas could not have foreseen the modern situation with nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons; the United Nations; and world-wide terror networks that are supported by, but are not themselves states. So, the first problem in considering just war in the modern era is to ask if the current criteria are still valid, or if they need to be updated for our present time.

Indeed, they do. Classical theory says that a war may only be waged in response to an actual attack. That is, threats are not a sufficient cause for war. Under this criterion, the war in Iraq could never be legitimate, since Iraq has not attacked us, our allies, or anyone with international standing who has asked us to intervene. This was a great check on kings and princes who would go to war over a rumor of war. Remember, though, that in that time it was practically impossible to suffer a surprise attack in peacetime, at least as long as you continued to man your watchtower. However, I am persuaded that in this day and age, weapons of mass destruction (especially now that we have ICBMs, chemical weapons, and suicide bombers) can be delivered without warning. Given that, insisting on letting the bad guy draw first might make you a better cowboy, but opens you up to all sorts of devastating attacks from which it might be difficult to recover for the righteous, just war authorized, retaliation.

What to do, then? It seems that the just war criterion must be revised to include "a credible threat of attack which could not be intercepted" as equivalent to an actual attack. That's as far as I'm willing to go, however. And that's too bad, since it doesn't make the decision about Iraq much easier. It's not clear to me (and I do follow the papers and look for things like this) that Iraq has made a credible threat. They certainly had done so in the first Gulf War, and that's why I supported that effort. But in this case… I don't see it.

I am not so naïve or trusting as to believe that Saddam Hussein is telling the truth about having no WMDs. He certainly does. For the essay that makes this case the best, see Condoleeza Rice's op-ed in the New York Times entitled "How We Know Saddam is Lying." But having something and using them are different things. If that were not so, we'd be under threat of disarmament from the UN. Now wait… I'm not one of those people either. I trust George W. Bush (who I don't particularly trust) with our WMDs, and I wouldn't trust Saddam Hussein with a slingshot. The reason I'm able to trust GWB with our weapons is because of Thomas Jefferson and the positively inspired system of government we have here.

But it is certainly true that Saddam Hussein is a dangerous madman, and who knows what he may yet do. If he could be effectively disarmed, he would still be a madman, but he would cease to be dangerous. That would be good enough for my revised criterion. But I also agree that Saddam Hussein isn't going to do it because we asked. He'll have to be forced. But that doesn't necessarily require war. That's why I'm in favor of coercive inspections. The current number of inspectors under UN control is a lot like my high school class searching Arizona for an orange pained bottle of propane. We might find it, but there's certainly no guarantee. And they certainly don't have the force (which is what Saddam Hussein responds to) needed to get everywhere they'd like to look.

I'm aware that coercive inspections are, in some ways, riskier, longer, and possibly more expensive than simply turning the country into a glass-topped parking lot and starting over, but as a just war theorist I must place war behind all other credible options, even when those options have their own set of costs.

My premises are long-held and important to me. They are born out of deep thought, prayer, and study. The conclusions that they dictate, however, have and may yet change as we learn more about the Iraqi government, its plans, and capabilities. If war cannot be avoided, so be it. But so far… coercive inspections seem to be the best option.

2003-03-07T06:24:00.000-06:00

Our church has a custom of Evensong during Lent. Last night was the first one for this season and it was wonderful. Rite I Evensong (especially at our church) is a glorious blend of medieval chant, Elizabethan language, and contemporary theology. There were not as many people there as I recall from last year, but the group that did show up took full advantage of the special opportunity to worship.

Afterwards, we always have a bread and soup supper, which was also nice. I'm coming to appreciate simple food more and more as time goes on.

Last but not least, of course, was my class. I'm teaching a short seminar entitled, "Through Lent with the Spiritual Masters." Each week we're addressing a different person and his or her contribution to spirituality. This session we covered St. Benedict and the concept of "Rules." No, I'm not going to reproduce it here, especially since my Jerome biography is still unfinished. Rather, I'll just say that it looked to me like the people who came enjoyed what I offered. They participated in the discussion and the exercise. They may have even learned something that can help them connect to God and each other. A teacher can't really ask for more than that.

And really, that's what I've been enjoying a lot recently. Teaching. The more chance I get to help people learn, whether through the just war seminars I’ve been doing for work, things like this spirituality seminar, the indirect teaching I do through The Common Good Network, or informal consultations with people who ask my advice, the more I find that I'm enriched by the experience, just as I hope others are. There's nothing like the opportunity to do what you love to remind you that there is a God who has ordered the universe, and that if you live in line with that order, you can be happy. (<--Comment bait, click the comment link at the bottom of any posting to leave a response and participate in the discussion. It's a library, but you don't have to keep quiet.)

Anyway, feel free to come and worship with us at any time. If you choose Lenten evensong, please stay for supper and my class. Next week's Spiritual Master – St. Ignatius. See you then.

2003-03-06T14:45:00.000-06:00

If you know me, or if you read my opening message, you may be concerned that I will fall into my usual pattern and stop updating. That may be, but I am going to help you out. Take a leap of faith that I will update, but don't go too far. Scroll down to the bottom of this page and enter your e-mail address in the Blogarithm box. These good people will send you an e-mail whenever I update my page - no matter how infrequently. Don't fear wasting your time checking to see if my page is updated! As the Blogarithm boys (my friends Andy and Max) say, "Keep It Fresh."

I'll do the same. But if I don't... you won't suffer for it.

2003-03-06T06:33:00.000-06:00

I am reliably informed that if you choose a name other than your own for your blog, you are obliged to write a little mini-essay explaining it, for the edification of others. Here, therefore, is a short biography of the great St. Jerome, with associated commentary by one of his fans (namely me), also for the edification of others (though this time not regarding the mere facts of Jerome's earthly life, but principally about my own interior world, which my wife would refer to as "How Micah Got This Way - Part XXIII").

Jerome was born in the town of Stridon (Dalmatia and Pannonia) in the neighborhood of 340CE. It is not clear how or when he became a Christian, but we do know that he was baptized in Rome in the year 360. He dedicated himself to ecclesiastical and theological studies at Trier and Aquileia. He also studied for a time with Apollinaris of Laodicea (orthodoxy fans take note, this was in the year 373 BEFORE Apollinaris becomes separated from the church). For about five years he lived an as an ascetic in the desert of Chalcis near Antioch. It was at this time that he was ordained a priest (right around the age of 35, synchronicity fans will notice). He left the desert for the wastelands of Constantinople, where he became good friends with St. Gregory of Nazianzus (one of the so-called "Cappadocian Fathers"). During this period of his life, his writings are not yet fully developed and consist mostly of translations (though that is to remain a theme throughout his life). We have his Latin translations of Origen’s homilies on Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Isaiah, also his translation of Eusebius and the coolly named "Vita S. Pauli, prima eremitae." (I just want to point out here that I myself have translated portions of Eusebius' history and it wasn't that hard. I don't mean that to disparage Jerome's Greek in any way, which was certainly cleaner and faster than mine, only to draw another interesting parallel between us. When we get to Jerome's theories on marriage, you'll see that we don't always see eye-to-eye.)

From roughly 382 to shortly after the death of his patron Pope Damasus (384), Jerome lived and worked in Rome. His caustic personality (another difference between us) got him cross with the church hierarchy and once Damasus could no longer protect him on earth, he was forced to leave the Eternal City. He eventually reached Bethlehem in 386, where he settled in a monastery and again took up the ascetic life until his death on September 30, 420. His mortal remains are entombed beneath the Church of the Holy Nativity in Bethlehem (my number one pilgrimage site, where my wife will not currently let me go, likely out of some fear for my safety). During his time in Rome, his exegetical work comes to the fore and he begins to "correct" the Latin versions of the scripture, bringing them into line with the original Hebrew and Greek texts. At first, he corrects the Hebrew scripture according to the Septuagint texts, but later comes to consider the LXX un-inspired, insisting thenceforth on the original Hebrew text. During this period, he completes his Latin version of the Gospels, the Epistles of St. Paul, the Psalms, and Job. Later he re-translates the Psalms with the aid of the Hexapla (a six language scripture originally compiled by Origen). It is also from this period that his original works, including "Against Helvidium: On the perpetual virginity of Mary," begin. His commentaries from this time include Philemon, Galatians, Ephesians, Titus, and Ecclesiastes.

I'll finish the last years of Jerome's life in a future post, including the dispute with Augustine which resulted in the quote at the header of this blog. But before I go, I'd like to draw another parallel between Jerome's scholarly method and mine. Apparently, early in his career, he was criticized for working very quickly, and for sometimes taking the opinions of those writers whose works he read without sufficient consideration. I can't say I'm unfamiliar with this methodology, or this criticism. I will say though that in later years, Jerome's translations were considered marvelous in their depth, complete with the implicit interpretations of a quickly moving translator/exegete. In addition, his theological works have been considered important sources for the thoughts of other scholars of the time, which Jerome passed on without comment (though with attribution, of course, he was not a barbarian).

Until I return then, my friends, we will all have to be patient.

2003-03-05T09:25:00.000-06:00

Today, as most of you will know, is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent. This is the day that Christians begin their preparations for Easter. As you will all know (regardless of your faith or nonfaith) experiences of true joy are hindered or prevented outright by feelings of guilt, shame, or embarrassment. To truly enjoy Easter, and the feelings of resurrection and rebirth that it entails, we must go through a process of stripping away those things which will keep us separated. Lent is the season set aside to repent, to confess, to do acts of contrition, and to be restored.

This blog is part of my Lenten discipline. I have tried to start blogs several times in the past, even getting so far as to announce that I had done so, and inviting people to follow along. I confess that I have not kept up with any of them. It may have been for lack of confidence in my own ability to be interesting or consistent, or some other reason. No matter. I offer now this small corner of my life to those who would walk with me. And I pledge, not that it will be filled with infrequent but high-quality essays on the life of the mind (as I imagined my other blogs), but that it will be filled with the authentic thoughts of one who struggles to understand the world around him and to discover how to communicate that understanding to others.

Truthfully, they will probably still be infrequent. It's only been one Lent.