August 2008 Archives

Depending on your bent, you may find signing this petition to be a worthwhile expression of Catholic solidarity with a recent USD decision.

Fore note: This has been a particularly difficult segment to write and so any comments, clarifications, or helps would be much appreciated. Before I felt like I was wading into warm tropical waters, but in this passage, it feels like I've taken that next step and wound up plunged into the tongue of the ocean.

from the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans (DRC)

21 Because that, when they knew God, they have not glorified him as God, or given thanks; but became vain in their thoughts, and their foolish heart was darkened. 22 For professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. 23 And they changed the glory of the incorruptible God into the likeness of the image of a corruptible man, and of birds, and of fourfooted beasts, and of creeping things. 24 Wherefore God gave them up to the desires of their heart, unto uncleanness, to dishonour their own bodies among themselves. 25 Who changed the truth of God into a lie; and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.

26 For this cause God delivered them up to shameful affections. For their women have changed the natural use into that use which is against nature.

from the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans (KJV)

21Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.

22Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools,

23And changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things.

24Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves:

25Who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.

26For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature:

In Greek

I have broken the passage here to avoid too long a reading; however, it might be good to read to the end of the chapter and come back to take these verses in context, this is the beginning of one form of argument that St. Paul uses throughout the letter.

Okay, so today we begin to encounter the St. Paul in the presence of whom I always felt terribly uncomfortable as a protestant. This is a raving, railing, ranting St. Paul, who fulminates and casts into Hell all that he does not care for. This is the St. Paul of those who would judge others and condemn them to Hell despite the strong injunction not to do so. In short, this St. Paul exists only in the perfervid imaginations of those who have fallen under the spell of a certain way of reading the Bible.

But this picture of St. Paul is a caricature, a distortion, a slander of a great man with a great heart. And, in all likelihood, I may have been the only person to have ever encountered this fictitious (and factitious) St.Paul.

These verses, and those that are to follow shortly, are commonly amongst those used in the argument against homosexuality. For a gay-friendly analysis of these verses and those following is available here, I am dubious about some aspects of this argument; however, I did like the notion introduced of St. Paul as ironist. I'm not sure that he is exhibiting that tendency here, but it helps to make St. Paul more human and humane.

We recall from yesterday that the previous passage ended with "So they are without excuse." Who? Those, who knowing God and His glory choose to bow before created things rather than worshiping the Creator. I don't know that St. Paul condemns all paganism with this assault, although he may well be doing so; however, he is certainly condemning the Dionysian cults that seem to worship and revel in darkness and in vain animalistic pursuits. I have this small doubt about the complete condemnation of all previous practice because of the power and skill of an argument presented elsewhere that depends upon the Altar to and Unknown god.

So, let's leave aside for the moment whether this passage is meant to be a blanket condemnation of the entire pagan world and its thinkers and look instead as to what the real sin is, because it is this consequences of this sin that Paul will delineate in the passage subsequent to this.

The specific problem is delineated in verse 21--when they knew God, when they saw His Glory, rather than praising that Glory and extolling that greatness, they extolled themselves and darkened their own imaginations. They had seen the power of God and they ended up seeing nothing at all but their own reflections. They could not praise Him or give Him glory and so they became puffed up. Thinking themselves wise, they became fools--they were filled with their own ideas and their own desires--their glimpse of God pushed them solidly back into themselves. And this is a natural tendency. If we think of the Apostles at the Transfiguration, the first thing they want to do after witnessing such a marvelous event is build some tabernacles. They, at least, had a worthy thing in mind to build. Not so with many of the pagan cults. They instead choose to make graven images of Dionysius, Mithras, and other even darker entities. They see the sun and choose to transform it to suit their own purposes. (Sounds rather uncomfortably familiar, doesn't it?)

When they did this they incurred the penalty of their sin in their own bodies. For example, the celebration of Cybele left too many men incapable of contributing to the future of the race. Other cults had even darker rites.

When we see God and ignore Him, consequences naturally follow. Paul attributes them to God's wrath and perhaps that is simply a metaphorical way of saying that sins carry with them their own retribution. Take our modern era with the "sexual revolution" of the 60s. The consequences of that horrendous social experiment are with us today as we contemplate the election of a man who will do his uttermost to assure that the slaughter of the innocents can continue unabated in the name of rights that simply do not exist.

While Paul was writing of the depraved pagans of his time, his message holds true for us today. When we choose to ignore God and recreate Him in our own image, we will be serving a horrible god at a terrible price. I won't go so far as to say that it happens daily, but I think it is fair to say that daily we see the consequences of such service in the world around us.

Odd Hours is by far and away my least favorite of the Odd books because I feel that it is too incomplete--it seems like the beginning of something that will be finished in a way that I won't particularly care for. Careful reading of the text suggests that, perhaps, when this was written, the publishers decided that it was too long for one episode and so it would be split into several.

That said, despite these quibbles with some of the mechanics, it is an Odd book, and therefore good reading. If not as good as the first three, still worth reading and worth paying attention to. Koontz continues his themes of Grace in a graceless world and here interjects some Shakespeare (overtly) and some T.S. Eliot (particularly the "Four Quartets,") more covertly--all to effect his end. Additionally, he makes some arguments about the use of force--at one point noting that he is "a killer" but not "a murderer." And they are made well--well enough that a semi-pacifist such as myself could raise no strong objection to them and even saw in them some of the wisdom of the Church. (I suppose one could argue about whether all the conditions for self defense or "just war" are met; however, this is a work of light fiction not a polemic justifying aggression.)

There were some annoying spots in the book--the overly long interrogation in the police station which has an episode of faked (and not convincingly faked) amnesia, the dialogue with the last conspirators at the end. Just too much for the weight of the book--unless, as I suspect, there is more in a similar vein to come.

Loose threads--Annamaria, the coyotes, and the new manifestations of the supernatural, are all left loose, untrimmed, untucked, unacknowledged. But this plot is tidied up and done away with quickly--so quickly indeed that there is none of the personal force of the other books--the threat to too vague, too distant, too massive to really have the impact that some of the others did.

Overall, this is a weaker effort in the series. But even so, there are the episode of the Polterfrank, the golden retriever, the house of the Happy Monster, and other real highlights that make this, while weak, a thoroughly enjoyable half-installment in the series. Given the foreshadowing, warnings, and umbras and penumbras of the beginning of the book, it is clear that this narrative episode is not yet finished, nor is it likely to be wrapped up in the next book. What we have here may be, like a recent Preston and Child endeavor, the beginning of a trilogy within a series. If as successful as that endeavor, we have much to look forward to. If not, we still have the charm of Odd Thomas, and that in itself is sufficient to make any book in the series worth reading.

It probably comes as no surprise to you that the composition of these reflections is both a pleasure and a challenge. When I put a great deal of thought and effort into them, I am half amused and half uneasy with the resounding silence about them. Amused because I know that my reaction would likely be the same; uneasy because I fear I may have gotten something wrong and I am conceivably misleading. So perhaps each of these should come with a caveat--read with pleasure, but be certain to think through on your own. I am now up to my fourth reflection on this cluster of verses, and I am loving the slow read of Romans that it forces me to do. Additionally, I am enjoying the reading I need to do in addition to come to some understanding about what these words mean. Struggling with the writing of St. Paul is a way of becoming more familiar with him--the sullen, self-centered, raging, towering, block of anger that I understood St. Paul to be from my days as a Baptist is vanishing to be replaced by a careful, thoughtful, ironic, and sometimes amusing teacher, a man deeply in love with Jesus Christ and deeply desiring that everyone around him should come to know Jesus in the same way. I hope that in some small way, working through this letter helps you to know St. Paul better and to appreciate this Jubilee year dedicated to him. If not, I hope then that at a minimum the tears of boredom clear up rapidly enough to read the next blog. God bless you either way.

At long last, I have come to the three verses that I really wanted to jump in and start talking about. This is the first intimation of a stream that will flow throughout the letter to the Romans. Indeed, it may be well considered the Christian headwaters of much Catholic theological and philosophical thought. (I say Christian headwaters because, obviously, this is a tradition that must stretch back in the Judaism, but I am unfamiliar with the line of reasoning prior to this writing by St. Paul. St. Paul, we must keep in mind, like Jesus, was a consummate Jew--a man who observed the law and witnessed and approved the martyrdom of St. Stephen.)

from Romans 1:18-20 (RSV)

[18] For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of men who by their wickedness suppress the truth.

[19] For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them.
[20] Ever since the creation of the world his invisible nature, namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse;

(NIV)

18The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, 19since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. 20For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities--his eternal power and divine nature--have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.

There are times in the Epistles that one needs to leave the lovely but sometimes thorny garden of DRC and KJV and enter into more readily comprehensible translations of the same ideas. While the RSV is approved for liturgical use and study, the NIV occasionally offers insights, however, I am not certain that the bias of the translators does not sometimes infiltrate the text and I use it cautiously. But I use it here because, while I am not a Greek expert, from consultation with the Greek Bible, the NIV seems to be a "more accurate" interpretation of the verses. In verse eighteen the chief verb appears at the beginning of the sentence and in the parsing of the Greek Bible it is designated as a "third person singular prest passive indicative" Thus "is being" seems slightly more in line with the thought--"is being" is more passive than "is revealed." Why all of this concern over a verb? In this case the passive voice strengthens the thought that the revelation of God in this way did not stop with the Incarnation or the revelation of Jesus Christ, but it is an ongoing act of revelation that comes as a grace from God to every generation. He is revealed through His works for all to see or not. We can will to be blilnd, but the revelation will be there nevertheless, and the revelation acts as prosecuting attorney. Because God chooses to reveal Himself in this way there is no excuse for one going to Heaven to say that he could not know God. It is entirely likely that a person might have good excuse for not knowing Jesus Christ as revealed in the Bible--there may have been no one to preach, no one nearby who knew the good news. However, Jesus Christ is the culminating and fulfilling revelation of God the Father who graciously continues to reveal Himself in His creation. Now, unfortunately, what is being revealed to all is the wrath of God against those who will not know him. I don't know the particular circumstances that Paul might be thinking about with regard to this, but we might say the same thing today. The wrath of God (which cannot be separated from either the love of God or the Mercy of God, as they are all attributes of a simple and undivided whole) is being revealed today in ways that if we were only to open our eyes we could see. For example, the weakness of our Christian faith is revealed in the choice of leadership we are being given in the next election. It is revealed daily in the crime, vandalism, and exploitation of the poor that goes on each day. These are not God's signs of displeasure with those who are affected, but the natural "wrath" that develops from making choices that do not concur with God's will. As we instruct our children--there are consequences to our choices and we must be willing to live with those consequences if we are willing to take advantage of the choices.

Paul will go on in verses to follow to describe some of the ways in which God's wrath is being revealed, but the main point of the three verses presented here is that the wrath is being revealed against a people who do not only not accept Christ, but who refuse to understand God despite the fact that from the beginning of Creation God has made himself manifest to everyone.

What is startling here is the line of thought that says that a person ignorant of religion, ignorant of Christ, ignorant of all the trappings of civilization, may still know God. God is revealed in the book of creation just as he is revealed in the Word. The specificity of that revelation is less than the fullness of Christ, but it is nevertheless clear and those who refuse to see it have no excuse. In short, all people can know God through his Creation., and this creation reveals God's will. This is Paul's answer, and the Catholic answer to the question, "Can an Atheist have a reasonable ethics?" Yes, if he is attentive to God's revelation in natural law, even while ignoring the fact that it is revelation. Natural Law is a sure sign of God--a clear message that anyone can and must see and obey. There is no getting around it--God and His will are made manifest in the smallest events that occur in the world.

This is one of the primary building blocks in the construction of a Catholic, Christian theology--God may be known through the use of the gift of reason applied to the revelation implicit in the natural world. Faith can be built upon and supported by judicious use of reason under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Catholics have long held this belief, which is why it is so confounding and obnoxious to hear the Catholic Church (although not individual Catholics) being accused of anti-intellectualism. The Church is indeed the mother of the prudential use of reason in coming to know and understand God. Her saints (from St. Paul on) have consistently taught this, and it is this line of thought that supports and reifies the authority of the Magisterium to interpret scripture and indeed the events of the everyday.

If St. Paul had given us no other gift, this was one of the very finest he could have blessed us with--the gift of reason used in defense of and support of faith. Faith and reason do not require compartmentalization of the human person, rather together with the Holy Spirit, they allow for the complete integration of the human person. Is there any wonder that Pope Benedict wanted us to spend some time reflecting on this great Saint and his gift to us in the Epistles?

[Caution: Spoilers from the word go}

I read all of the Preston and Child books although I often find myself frustrated by the complete rationalism of them. Everything that appears supernatural is undone and shown to be a perfectly natural, albeit heinous and diabolically clever ruse of one sort of another. There were intimations in Wheel of Darkness that they may have moved a little from their rationalist empiricism into a supernatural realm (in the metaphysical sense).

Blasphemy, as its acknowledgments to Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins might portend, is a return to these roots. Scientists in the southwest build a super-collider designed to explore the opening moments of the establishment of the universe; however, when they get the supercollider up to speed, strange things begin to happen and a message from God starts to come through the computers running the machine. Meanwhile, the enterprise is threatened by bad, bad fundies, menacingly peaceful Navajos, and a set of internal conflicts that make the cuckoo's nest look like a home away from home.

Excitement, new ideas, interesting landscape, predictable characters and development, all characterize the book. What I found intriguing, and what intrigues me about all Preston and Preston and Cloud books is the off-stage development of romance. These guys know they have a story without having to introduce a stray sexual element to keep you interested, and, frankly, while I'm not a prude, I find this refreshing. Yes there is a love interest, yes there is a scene in which a curtain is discretely drawn over the action--but this is just a pub brawl from beginning to end with the occasional wench pushed out of the way of harm.

I have to say that I really enjoyed the book despite its predictable trajectory. Recent books by the team seem to want to raise metaphysical and supernatural questions (in a light way) and I think that is also a good trend.

The writing here could have done with a better edit than it got--as I pointed out earlier when our resident expert on all things pedantic and querulous thought that she needed to put me in my place. And I stand by that--most modern books could do with more handling than they get. Heck, that's a huge understatement--most modern books could do with not being published at all. This, however isn't one of them--and if you want some lightweight, cheap thrills, this could be a fun book for you to read.

My diocese is undertaking an unusual task this election season. There is a series of sessions offered at different churches throughout the diocese dedicated to attuning your conscience to the teaching of the Church in political matters. I haven't attended one of these and I'm uncertain if I will because I half dread what may be there, but I hail the effort as one that should be forcefully undertaken if in accord with actual Church teachings. (I haven't come to a determination about where my Bishop stands in these matters--it is somewhat difficult to determine. His sole interest appears to be justice and equity (as he sees it) for immigrants of all stripes.)

But a good statement about political consciousness and voting is something long overdue. It should be sounding from the pulpits, and if we had no tax exemption it would be sounding from the pulpits. As it stands our tax-status is a major stumbling block to spreading the word as it should be spread. (Well, not entirely--the tax-status is the same as it was in the 1950s when you would hear thundering from the pulpit on political issues--the government through IRS has found another way to block free speech. But so long as this is the code and this is what we face, better to render unto Caesar so that we can more effectively render unto God.)

from the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans (DRC)

16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel. For it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the Jew first, and to the Greek. 17 For the justice of God is revealed therein, from faith unto faith, as it is written: The just man liveth by faith. 18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and injustice of those men that detain the truth of God in injustice: 19 Because that which is known of God is manifest in them. For God hath manifested it unto them. 20 For the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; his eternal power also, and divinity: so that they are inexcusable.

from the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans (KJV)

16For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.

17For therein is the righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith: as it is written, The just shall live by faith.

18For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness;

19Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them.

20For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse:

In Greek

Having handily dispatched verse 16, we're now ready to tackle the remainder of the passage. One is impressed by how much can be garnered from pondering this letter even with a limited knowledge of all of the scholarship that has poured into understanding the letter in its entirety. It is both encouraging and logical that a person today who wishes to read Romans and think about it for a while can understand much of what is said. One need only recall that the letter was originally written to a group of people who had nothing like a profound theology.

Before we launch fully into what follows--thorny and difficult going at best and filled with the potential traps of misinterpretation, it might be good to record one famous theologians thoughts on the Letter to the Romans.

from Preface to Romans
Martin Luther

This letter is truly the most important piece in the New Testament. It is purest Gospel. It is well worth a Christian's while not only to memorize it word for word but also to occupy himself with it daily, as though it were the daily bread of the soul. It is impossible to read or to meditate on this letter too much or too well. The more one deals with it, the more precious it becomes and the better it tastes. Therefore I want to carry out my service and, with this preface, provide an introduction to the letter, insofar as God gives me the ability, so that every one can gain the fullest possible understanding of it. Up to now it has been darkened by glosses and by many a useless comment, but it is in itself a bright light, almost bright enough to illumine the entire Scripture.

[See the translation of the whole here.]

And so, here I am to again darken it with glosses, or perhaps offer a sputtering torch in comparison to the floodlights true theologians cast upon it.

It is good to remember that The Letter to the Romans is one source of the great divide between Catholics and Protestants. It is in this letter that Martin Luther and others find so much evidence so support their sola fides that it becomes for them an article of the faith.

Verse 17 begins the rather difficult discussion of "justification" and in this discussion, some would have us believe that the justification is a matter of faith alone. "For the justice of God is revealed therein, from faith unto faith, as it is written: The just man liveth by faith. " And indeed, there seems to be a strong element of this--but only when the Letter to the Romans it taken out of the fullness of the context of revelation. For this reason, Martin Luther would have preferred a Bible lacking the Letter of James and the Letter to the Hebrews. These two put the fly in the ointment of sola fides. While it might be possible to come to the "faith alone" conclusion based on Romans, it is not possible to remain with that hypothesis if the rest of God's revelation to us is to be taken seriously. So, let us read what Paul actually says here: the justice of God is revealed in the Gospel of Christ--certainly unobjectionable. It is revealed from "faith unto faith" Another way of saying the same thing: "For in it the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith; as it is written, 'He who through faith is righteous shall live. ((RSV)'" The justice of God is revealed through faith for the continuation of faith. Then Paul goes on to quote Habakkuk 2:4. It might be instructive to take a detour to that passage to see what Paul the Rabbi was referring to:

Habukkuk 2: 4-5

4 "See, he is puffed up;
his desires are not upright--
but the righteous will live by his faith-

5 indeed, wine betrays him;
he is arrogant and never at rest.
Because he is as greedy as the grave
and like death is never satisfied,
he gathers to himself all the nations
and takes captive all the peoples. (NIV)

[4] Behold, he whose soul is not upright in him shall fail,
but the righteous shall live by his faith.
[5] Moreover, wine is treacherous;
the arrogant man shall not abide.
His greed is as wide as Sheol;
like death he has never enough.
He gathers for himself all nations,
and collects as his own all peoples." (RSV)

The one who is puffed up with pride and sure of the sanctity of himself and his actions shall not endure. Paul is not talking here about faith alone, but faith as contrasted with the actions of the arrogant man, whose works are all his own works and who seeks to devour and overcome all. Indeed, the verses in Habukkuk appear to refer to a person in particular, but they could be generalized to be understood as referring to any person who lives without faith. The Gospel of Jesus Christ makes no sense without faith--it reveals from faith to faith and informs faith. Hence, the Gospel itself is not necessarily an argument to those opposed to God in Atheism or other misguided understandings of how the universe functions. The Gospel speaks from faith to faith. However, faith is a gift each person has and which is embodied in the indwelling Holy Spirit who constantly calls upon us to move closer to God. The Gospel of God is recognized within by the Holy Spirit and it calls to all, faith to faith. But faith alone , as James would tell us, is insufficient, because a true faith inspires works. It is important to note that the works don't "earn" our way into heaven, but they can be seen as the heavy-lifting that builds up faith's endurance and strength. That is, when we act on faith in God, we build up our own trust in God's providence and love for us. Works are continuations of faith and strengthen an intellectual faith that could snap or be crushed under the weight of the world. Paul here says nothing of works, and even when he does refer to works, one must keep in mind that the quotation he has used gives the context of his thought. The works of an arrogant man will avail him nothing because they do not stem from faith. While the works of a "good" arrogant man may, for the moment appear to be helpful, they will sour and bring forth a fruit of destruction. Such works are the works of men, but there are works of faith, which are works of God, instituted by God and approved by God as strengthening us and making us fit for the kingdom. Indeed, we can enter the kingdom, flabby, overweight, and spiritually distressed--the spiritual equivalent of a couch potato. For those in such condition, there is a work-out room called Purgatory, which purifies and strengthens because it is not given for the weak to look upon the face of God and live--and sense all in Heaven glory in the gaze of God himself, we must be strengthened to endure it. That happens either here below, or when we have passed into the new life. And miraculously, it is the "works" of others through their prayers for the dead that can help make us ready to enter the kingdom.

I apologize, I have strayed from the point. But I have done so because it is in this letter that some of the more strident and overwhelming of the doctrines of protestantism find their strongest statement. It is only through correcting these by looking at the fullness of scriptural revelation (and I will not pretend to have done so) that we can regain perspective.

I will acknowledge that some of my representations of these arguments for works may be theologically off-balance. I am not a professional theologian, nor a particularly nuanced interpreter of scripture; however, I am not certain that the theologians and the nuancers have helped particularly in our appreciation of what St. Paul writes here.

So let me finish out the verse: "The just will live by faith." Justification--the process of becoming just, is initiated by faith. Through faith we come to know and honor justness and justice. Through faith we continue to walk in justness and justice. But justness and justice require balance--faith supplies the strength, works supply the balance. What is within us is lived out by what we do in the world to transform it into God's world. This must be true or the admonition for us all to preach the Gospel is meaningless. What is preaching the Gospel other than a work of faith? And does this work contribute to justness? Just as the teacher learns more each time he or she teaches a subject, so the preacher faith increases each time he or she relies upon the Holy Spirit to explain the faith to others.

The just will live by faith, but not by faith alone--faith demands an expression, it demands an outpouring, it overflows the person in the form of the greatest of theological virtues--love. And love is not love if it is not expressed--hence, back to works. The expression of love, whatever form it may take, is a work of the Holy Spirit that in turn strengthens faith within us. And so we come back full circle.

One can only derive sola fides through a decontextualization of the Letter to the Romans from the rest of revelation. It certainly was not Paul's intent to do so. He demonstrates this clearly even within this single verse, referring back to the rather obscure prophet Habukkuk, whose book most of us probably haven't even read. But Paul knew it and understood it, and grounded part of his understanding of the Glory of God upon it, delivering it to us for all ages through the aegis and protection of the Holy Spirit. The words of Paul continue to inspire us today as we read them and begin to understand them in the way the Paul meant them to be understood, and in the way that the Holy Catholic Church has understood them for two millennia now.

Oh, no, don't ask why. Just go and explore the complexities of a non-computable, nearly undefinable number in support of Gödel's theorem.

No, no, just go.

Okay, just a hint--it is related to the stink beetle yesterday.

from No One Sees God
Michael Novak

It is a category mistake to hold that God "foresees" future events. In fact, and here the conception is philosophical, not base on Christian data: God dwells in a simultaneous present. Past, present, and future are all present to Him in one vision. He sees the whole world of Time and all of this creation in one instant. He wills it all into being, and sustains it in being. Since by contast we are in time, we must speak of past, present, and future. God is not bound by that constraint.

Why, then, did Jesus instruct us to pray to our Father for our humblest needs, as well as for grand and seemingly impossible things? If to Him everything is present instantaneously, isn't the deal already done? Yet in that one same instant, God's eternal vision sees our prayers as part of the texture of events that unfolds itself in time. For us, all events are sequential. For Him, all is simultaneous. He wills the whole all-at-once. He understands it all, and He wills it all. He sees it as good, and He loves it. Our prayers, therefore, may enter into the outcome in a way unknown to us, but known to Him. In one simultaneous act He knows the (to us) later outcome, even as He knows our (to us) prior prayers.

Hence, the unknown extent of the efficacy of prayer. As we do not know in any case the disposition or destination of any soul, it would seem that prayers for all lost souls (such as those that we utter in the Fatima prayer) work to reduce the population of Hell to some extent. Is it reduced, as I hope, to zero? I cannot say. But I can pray "Lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy," and because prayer contributes to the economy of salvation, I can trust that God will place that credit where it is most needed, and where, to human sensibilities it is probably least deserved. A frightening thought, perhaps an aggravating thought. And what is more it casts some mysterious light on Paul's obscure reference to "Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?" (1 Cor 15:29). If our prayers can reach God and help to save souls, certainly they can be applied as God allows and we do not know or understand.

But, you know, I'm out of my depth here, and way beyond my understanding. It is part of the hope that I have that when I pray, "lead all souls to heaven," the prayer really means something. As much as I do not relish sharing heaven with Hitler, Saddam Hussein, Pol Pot, and others, I can neither relish the fact that they would suffer eternally. Will they be saved? I cannot say--let me say that the weight of the evidence in human eyes strongly suggests otherwise. And so, I rely upon God's mercy.

(On another note: for an interesting insight into "Baptism for the Dead" see here.)

In a recent piece of light reading, I stumbled, almost literally, across this sentence.

"A stink beetle marched purposely through the dust on some mysterious errand, becoming a little black dot as it went off and disappeared. "

Let us leave aside for the moment the question of whether any animal, let alone an insect, can be said said to have, in any meaningful way, purpose in what it is doing. Surely, if it cannot, the anthropomorphic sense of the human intellect can impose purpose on what is seen. It is a sentence like this, random, perhaps a little lazy, that disrupts what John Gardner was wont to call "the vivid and continuous dream." Indeed, upon stumbling over it, I came out of the description of the scene (so thoroughly that I had inordinate trouble relocating the sentence in the book) and thought for a while about "purposely." Is that even a word? If it is a word, should it be? What purpose does it have as a word that "purposefully" does not fulfill. Is it an adverbial appendage to indicate "on purpose," in which case, why? The fewer adverbs, the better in most prose, and this one strikes me as particularly pernicious, seeking to circumvent clearer and more careful articulations of the same idea. Adverbs reek of lazy writing. And in this case, after questioning "purposely" I had to wonder about a stink beetle marching. Had I not stumbled over "purposely," that stink beetle could have marched into the obscurity so richly deserved, as his only purpose was to give us an indication of passing time. But now, I wondered whether it was possible for a beetle to march, and if one could march what might that look like given six legs, and what might be the beat of such a march, "hut, two, three, four, five,six" or more waltz-like with a rhythm that doesn't seem to trial off to nowhere, "hut, two three, hut, two, three."

And so I was drawn out of the scene and into the world of bad grammar and its surreal possibilities.

It is the careful editor's work to assure that this does not happen to the reader. I don't care how popular, how influential, how best-selling the author, they can all use help from time to time to reshape the prose and make it meaningful and powerful. And in this case, all that was required was to use the proper adverbial form--"purposefully." By this simple alteration the beetle marches his way off the page and out of the reader's mind. Oh, perhaps the real pedant and stickler would question the marching, but for that person there is nothing to be done but to encourage him to retire to the well-padded chambers of the prose of Henry James where every article is fraught with meaning, every comma considered, withdrawn, reconsidered and inserted again. The dutiful editor need not trouble him- or herself with such a reader--they are self-selecting and would not choose a book of modern prose in any case.

I have now raked poor Preston and the momentary inattention of his much-overworked editor sufficiently to make the point. It takes only a small slip for the reader to be drawn out of the vivid and continuous dream, and if your story is not compelling, they may never be drawn back in again. I only hope that when my book goes to press I have the most vigorous, meticulous, and careful editor available. There is much to be said for the naive eye that sees what is written, not what is meant.

The Orwell Diaries Blog--Serialized as blog entries for the day appropriate to the diary, hitherto unpublished.

And, the announcement of this year's Hugo Awards, featuring a novel by Michael Chabon. I know that Doris Lessing was at one time nominated (not certain that she won).

After this, I don't know that I'll post any more about my recent trip--you never can tell. But I found this interesting.

Up early one morning and I took a walk and sat by the river near the docking pier for the Water Taxis--one company from Jersey City, one company from NYC. And this is what I saw painted on the external bulknead of one of the NYC Waterway boats:

"Look boats of mercy embark from our heart at the oddest knock"--Kay Ryan

And here, you can see a photograph of it.

I don't know who Kay Ryan is, but I really loved the thought.

And here a review that makes me think I must find more Kay Ryan.

Sam commented to me yesterday that he was glad that the stories in those old myths weren't true because the Egyptians had this story about some guy who would weigh your heart against a feather and if your heart weighed more, you'd be thrown to some creature that eats souls. And everyone knows a heart weighs more than a feather.

I pointed out to him that ancient Egyptians stored the heart in a canopic jar, so it wasn't the real physical heart they were weighing, but a spiritual heart--and a heart weighed down by sin would weigh more than a feather.

"Oh yeah! And a heart filled up with good things wouldn't weigh much. I get it." Then a heartbeat later, "I bet when those Egyptians got to heaven they were really surprised. After all they imagined they got there and there weren't a whole lot of Gods running around. Just one."

"Yeah, I bet that did come as a surprise."

Just a little note following on what I wrote a few days ago about St. Paul's letter to the Romans. More on that subject a bit later.

One last note about my recent trip to NYC.

While there, I fell in love with lower Manhattan--the west side. What's not to love? Everything extraordinary money can buy and more all concentrated in one small area--gorgeous riverside parks with an expansive view of Jersey City (believe it or not, quite lovely in its own way), sailboats, barges, tour boats, water-taxis, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, and the "Russian" Train station from which many of the people who passed through Ellis Island set out for parts west. Continue down and around to Battery Park and eventually up to Fulton Street shops, markets, restaurants, etc.

What I observed in all of this was a corner of New York in which the pace was not quite so frenetic, and the speed a touch slower than other places--for example Lexington and 48th, where one night I had dinner. We arrived a little early for the dinner appointment and walked up Lexington to the Waldorf Astoria and back. The whole time I seemed to be trapped in a seething, chaotic, roiling, mass of people, traffic, and solid, unbreathable air. The buildings and shops along the way provided momentary respite from the surge, but the overall experience, were it sustained for any greater length of time, would have been insupportable.

Now, it is this latter, electric, kinetic New York City that provides the chief draw for a great many, I'm sure. It is what I think of when I think of New York City. Yet, as with most cities, there are many faces--and the face of the Battery and parts of Tribeca, was that of a smaller, more intimate, somewhat slower, more comfortable community. I had decided that I could easily live in these areas--which just goes to show you what champagne tastes on a beer budget can do.

I took my time reading Venetia largely as a consequence of two things--the long disruptive trip that fell during the time of reading, and Honoré's book In Praise of Slowness. I suddenly became aware that I was not in any particular hurry and my enjoyment of a very pleasant read was by far more important that finishing this to move on to the next.

Venetia was an excellent book to read next to The Portrait of a Lady and even The Ambassadors (which I have returned to now).Venetia herself is a strong-willed, bright, and iconoclastic country girl whose notions of independence are a good deal healthier than those of Isabel Archer. Venetia grounds her independence in a carefully cultivated world view which is internally consistent and allows her to make a choice for happiness that conventionality would deplore. Ms. Archer, on the other hand, is independent enough to make the choice, but not independent enough to make it work--she is too bound by how other people see her. Venetia has a healthy contempt for the often incorrect way in which people try to manipulate others through convention.

Not that Venetia completely denies all convention, rather she carefully chooses amongst the conventions of her time, sorting out those that conform to reason from those that are mere prejudice--the sign of a keen intellect. And that is what Venetia demonstrates from almost the very moment we encounter her.

The story centers around Venetia, a rather sequestered country girl, who meets and eventually comes to love Lord Damarel, a notorious rake and man-about-town. Venetia has her own deep dark secret that becomes her key to making the match she knows in her heart to be the right one.

The book brims with a knowing sexuality, but not eroticism, a hard look at how men and women really behave. Venetia is not a prude, nor is she under any illusions about how the world works and what a rake is. But going back to our comparison of Venetia and Isabel Archer, Venetia's passion is rooted in a true and deep affection that grows slowly over the span of her brother's stay with Lord Damarel. Isabel Archer's passion isn't rooted in anything other than her own notions of independence. When she encounters her fatal love, it isn't a flare of affection, mutual care and concern, but a burst of passion that is rootless.

What the romance genre does at its best is what woman-kind at her best does for humanity--it roots the primal and animalistic passions (particularly of the human male) in the enduring bonds of affection and caritas. It raises human love from the continuation of the human species to a true relationship that reflects, at its best, the Father's deep and abiding love for each of us. Romance, in the literary sense is about quest, transformation. We came to call modern romances such because they were about love and stemmed from the "romantic" tales of Arthur and his Knights--but some of those elements tend to be lost from modern romance. Not so with Ms Heyer. She gives to us true romance in which the characters of her novel undergo real and realistic transformations because of the bonds of mutual affection. Within the sanctity of the marital union one natural expression of these bonds is passion. But if passion is the first and only bond, it will dissipate and cause dissipation.

Venetia holds to the high standards of Shelley's, Keats's, and Byron's romanticism, in which the quest transforms the knight errant. The quest itself is often transformed--from Holy Grail to Fisher King. So it is in Venetia as Damarel gradually ceases the attempt to seduce and finds himself tangled up in true affection, true concern--so much so that he cannot even propose to the one whom he originally planned to ruin.

A fun, light-heared, but ultimately serious historical romance worthy of the attention of readers of both history and romantic novels. This is what a romance can be at its very best, and we would be better off if there were more writers who would practice this highest form of the art.

from No One Sees God
Michael Novak

And so, when a Christian reader comes across Professor Dawkins's argument that God cannot exist, because all complex and more intelligent things come only at the end of the evolutionary process, not at the beginning, the Christian's first reflex may be to burst out laughing--but as an attentive student, he is also obliged to observe that, yes, from the viewpoint of evolutionary biology, that must in fact be so. The argument may be intellectually or philosophically satisfying, yet when its practical implications are compared with those of the Christian viewpoint, evolutionary biology may not be attractive as a guide to life. If one wants to be an evolutionary biologist, however, one must learn to confine oneself within the disciplines imposed by that field.

From a Roman Catholic point of view, at least, there is no difficulty in accepting all the findings of evolutionary biology, understood to be an empirical science--that is to say, not as a philosophy of existence, a metaphysics, a full vision of human life. It is easier for Christianity to absorb many, many findings of the contemporary world--from science to technology, politics, economics, and art--than for those whose viewpoint is confined to the contemporary era to absorb Christianity. That is just one reason that we may expect the latter to outlive the former.

It is obvious that Dawkins, at laast, is quite aware of the conventional limitations of the scientific atheist's point of view. He writes that "a quasi-mystical response to nature and the universe is common among scientists and rationalists. It has no connection with supernatural belief." A few pages of his book, in almost every section, are given over to showing how an atheistic point of view can satisfy what have hitherto been taken to be religious longings. Atheism, too, he shows, has its consolations, its sources of inspiration, its awareness of beauty, its sense of wonder. For such satisfactions, there is no need to turn to religion. Dawkins does good work in restoring human subjectivity, emotion, longing, and an awed response to beauty to the life of scientific atheism. For Dawkins, scientific atheism is humanistic, a significant step forward from the sterile logical positivism of two or three generations ago.

Let's leave aside for the moment the question of whether Dawkins actually argues for progressive complexity--I haven't read the book, but knowing what I do about evolutionary thinking, I tend to doubt that. It is a oversimplification of the complexity of thought and theory surrounding evolutionary biology.

What is gratifying to me is the support given from a non-scientific quarter for the need to separate the philosophical components of evolutionary biology from the empirical components. At this point Novak does not go into detail, and I don't recall any more detailed discussions in the matter; however, the assumption of randomness implicit in much of evolutionary biology is simply that--an assumption that has neither rigor nor demonstrable scientific validity.

What is also very nice is the idea that rational, thinking Christianity, as opposed to a too-literal cleaving to the exact words of Scripture, is better able to encompass all of the works of the human mind, than a philosophy that is based on rational empiricism. This should be obvious for anyone with an iota of intellectual integrity. Christianity, and Catholic thought in particular, is inclusive--it is the living demonstration of the words of Jesus, "Who is not against me is for me." (I know, the opposite is said as well, however, Catholicism, tends to embrace this view of the world--at least today.)

Novak accords Dawkins's disturbing diatribe with a great deal more respect that it probably deserves as argument, and in doing so, pulls from the morass something that can help us all in our faith lives.

Yesterday I tackled the first half of the first verse of the passage I had written out. When I started writing yesterday, I had every intention of completing the passage in a single marathon run-through. But it appears that other Agencies had a different course in mind because today, as I was planning to complete the discussion of the passage, I was entranced by the second half of the first verse in this pericope: "for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek."

Yesterday, we witnessed the bold proclamation "I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ" and I asked the question whether the same could be said for each of us. Today, we have the reason--the gospel of Christ is the power of God unto salvation. This is a fundamental tenet of our faith. The Good News of Jesus Christ is the news of salvation, redemption, and love. It is the news of a highly personal, highly involved God, who wishes to know each of us and whose will is that none of us should ever be separated from Him. However, as St. Thomas Aquinas teaches, the only thing, the single possibility of action, that stems entirely from a human being is a refutation or transgression of the will of God. This is all that we can accomplish on our own--a resounding NO to the eternal Yes uttered by Mary which allowed the salvation story to unfold.

Also note one of the great and resounding chords of the book of Romans--this salvation is not only for the historic Chosen People of God. Rather is is for all the people of God, with the Jews first (and I don't know if this means in the sequence of History, in the order of prominence, or both) but also to the non-Jewish people. It is a promise made to everyone who believes. And this raises a great question, which begins to be answered as we read through the latter portion of this pericope, and which is addressed in much greater detail and depth further on in the letter--just how pervasive is this gospel message? how powerful? and who is redeemed by it?

This great promise, this great salvation, has power beyond that which we acknowledge--or so it seems here because it is power for everyone of faith, everyone who believes, everyone who ardently and whole-heartedly seeks God. The gospel then, is universal, a promise to all peoples through all of time. It is the gospel that saves even those who lived before its proclamation to the world because it is a work out of linear time (chronos) and deeply permeated in all of time (kairos). The depth of this mystery is the depth of great joy and the source of all hope. It is something to celebrate and something to live day to day. It is, in fact, the fullness of God's love revealed, and hence, the fullness of God Himself because He is not separate from His love being simple and triuniate.

Not being a frequenter of the Regency world, I assume that the thing in the title would be a good thing to be; however, depending on the passage, it is difficult to tell. Does anyone know whether or not it is desirable or undesirable? If so, would you please share and mitigate somewhat this one's ignorance?

from the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans (DRC)

16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel. For it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the Jew first, and to the Greek. 17 For the justice of God is revealed therein, from faith unto faith, as it is written: The just man liveth by faith. 18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and injustice of those men that detain the truth of God in injustice: 19 Because that which is known of God is manifest in them. For God hath manifested it unto them. 20 For the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; his eternal power also, and divinity: so that they are inexcusable.

from the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans (KJV)

16For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.

17For therein is the righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith: as it is written, The just shall live by faith.

18For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness;

19Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them.

20For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse:

In Greek

There are a couple of reasons for my delay in posting more. For one, I spent a week working in NYC and I have trouble with my routine under disruptive conditions. But a second reason is quite frankly, I've gotten in over my head. In the letter to the Romans, Paul launches into very deep waters immediately after his greeting. This is the passage that follows the salutation, and look at its vast depth already.

But these words were written for ordinary people more unlettered than we are, and so they are equally written for us and have become frraught with meaning and a little daunting more because of the time so many more capable people have had to comment on, elucidate, and elaborate on these verses. So, I retreated to an old favorite:

from The Letter of St Paul to the Romans (RSV)

[16]For I am not ashamed of the gospel: it is the power of God for salvation to every one who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.[17] For in it the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith; as it is written, "He who through faith is righteous shall live." [18]For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of men who by their wickedness suppress the truth. [19] For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them.[20] Ever since the creation of the world his invisible nature, namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse;

Also, in some translations, we have left off in mid-sentence, in others the thought is complete. As a semi-colon provides one with the opportunity to break a thought and as punctuation is not dictated in the Greek, I have opted with the shorter passage in the hope that we can together shed some light on what is being said.

The first point of this passage is perhaps one of the most important and one of the least acted-upon in the world today. "I am not ashamed of the gospel. . . " For how many of us is this true today? How many of us make any real attempt to "defend" the gospel if the occasion arises? How often do we shy away from an opportunity to confess our faith out loud. We have nothing to apologize for. If there are difficulties with the faith, we are not necessarily the authors of them, nor are we the prime contributors. Do we truly believe that the gospel reveals the truth to all people, the truth that will set them free--the truth pure and without blemish about God's love for the entire world.

If I look at most of the Christian examples I am personally acquainted with, I would say that the majority of Christianity spends most of its time apologizing for not being more in-step with what the secular world knows. For example, the Episcopal Church in the USA has spent the better part of ten years apologizing for the truth revealed in scripture and confirmed by nature regarding human sexuality. There is no need to apologize what can be known by reason if we are not constructing ourselves in a post-modern shell. How many of our own Catholic Brethren use equally specious reasoning to arrive at the same faulty conclusions. (It is one thing to actively combat all forms of discrimination, cruel acts that seek to deprive a human being of dignity, and another entirely to justify all human actions on the basis that people should not be discriminated against.)

So perhaps one point to take away from meditating on this scripture is the simple question, "Can I truly claim with St. Paul that I am not ashamed of the gospel? Do I live my life in such a way as to celebrate the gospel truths? Do my actions announce to the world the good news of the love God has for each of us? How have I shown my love for the gospel today--have I in any way put aside myself in deference to others? have I shown love and concern for a brother or a sister in Christ? have I fed the hungry, given drink to the thirsty? You know the drill. And if not, how can I grow to love the gospel in the way that St. Paul so obviously does? How can I internalize the truth that drives the remainder of this passage?

Wouldn't it be wonderful if each one of us who claims to follow the faith were able to live a life that said clearly and distinctly "I am not ashamed of the gospel?" I know that it would be better for my own life to start and for the lives of those around me ultimately.

more tomorrow, I hope.

In a word--superb. A quick review of this book shows that it is the same tightly reasoned, compassionate, engaging call to conversation and, it is to be hoped, conversion from one believer to other believers and non-believers. Mr. Novak's theme in the book might well be summed up in this excerpt:

from No One Sees God
Michael Novak

In my own life, I have tried to keep the conversation up between the two sides of my own intellect. The line of belief and unbelief is not drawn between one person and another, normally, but rather down the inner souls of all of us. That is why the very question stirs so much passion. I have known people who declaim so passionately and argumentatively that they do not believe in God that I am drive to wonderment: Why are they so agitated, if, as they insist, God does not exist? Why then do they pay so much attention? Some of the greatest converts, in either direction, are those who wrestled strenuously for many year to maintain the other side.

There follows a fascinating journey down the highways and byways of faith--both for and against God, because, when we boil down all terms, atheism is as much a matter of faith as is theism. In fact, it may take even more faith to remain a steadfast atheist than to remain a believer, although atheist apologists would argue that their entire worldview is rooted in reason. In reality, no more so than the average believer's worldview.

Mr. Novak skirts the territory of the "design" discussion and offers a refreshing insight into the use of the terms Darwinism and Neo-Darwinism as philosophies rather than the underlying scientific approaches to understanding the development of life on Earth. Not that he gives any quarter to the philosophy that entangles itself with a Darwinian view of evolution but he right points out that use of these terms obviates any term for the general theory of development through natural selection. He makes a very nice point here:

Source as Noted Above

Second, use of these terms would lead to costly and unnecessary misunderstandings. For example, when Catholic Cardinal Christoph Schöborn denounced "Neo-Darwinism" in the New York Times, he was understood to be attacking a scientific theory, and this mistaken impression caused shock waves that were unnecessary.

I would note that, additionally, he caused a great deal of confusion among the faithful as to what was actually being denounced. When talking about scientific theories, one must understand the science and the philosophy, which may not be so apparent. One must tease them apart and point out the problems with the philosophy without discarding the valid science. Indeed, the most powerful argument against the philosophy that underpins some scientific theories is the "rules" of science itself. Can what you propose be tested and repeatably, reliably tested in some way. If not, the matter is not a matter for science, but one for the salon.

Mr. Novak's book is fine and powerful--a wonderful discussion of the issues surrounding faith and belief and unbelief. He attempts a powerful rebuttal to the like of Harris, Dawkins, Dennett, and Hitchens without devolving to a "Yes He does," "No he Doesn't" kind of back and forth. The respect with which he treats views that vary from his own should be a model for us as we engage in conversation with those around us. Indeed, he delineates 5 offputting ways of talking about God: God as Scientific Entity, God as Redundant (gap-filler), The God of Infinite Regress, God as Superdad, and God as Subjective feeling.

If there is a downside to this remarkable book it is, perhaps, the allegiance and implied universalism of nihilism and existential self-definitions with which Mr. Novak leaves his introduction/preface. He acknowledges that not everyone experiences this nihilism, and I suppose our formative experiences would shape our ultimate philosophical view of the world. Growing up when he did, it is hardly surprisingly that nihilism has a certain appeal.

Let me leave with this passage and my strongest recommendation that everyone interested in a serious discussion of belief and unbelief--light without undue heat--should invest some time and energy in a perusal of this book.

You cannot see God, even if you try. But you can see your neighbor, the tedious one, who grinds on you: Love him, love her. As Jesus loves them. Give them the tender smile of Jesus, even though your own feeling be like the bottom of a birdcage. Do not ask to see Jesus, or to feel Him. That is for children. Love him in the dark. Love for the invisible divine, not for warm and comforting human consolation. Love for the sake of love, not in order to feel loved in return.

******

If a Christian has not yet known this darkness and aridity, it is a sign that the Lord is still treating him like a child at the breast, too unformed for the adult darkness in which alone the true God is found. Any who think they can make idols, or images, or pictures, or concepts of God remain underdeveloped in their faith. Darkness is not a sign of unbelief, or even of doubt, but a sign of the true relation between the Creator and the creature. God is not on our frequency, and when we get beyond our usual range, which in prayer we must, we reach only darkness. This is painful. In a way, it does make one doubt; in another way, experience shows us that when one is no longer a child, one leaves childish ways behind.

from Venetia
Georgette Heyer

[Damarel speaking] "Because you don't understand, my darling. If the gods would annihilate but space and time---but they won't, Venetia, they won't."

"Pope," she said calmly. "And make two lovers happy. Aubrey's favourite amongst English poets, but not mine. I see no reason why two lovers should not be happy without any meddling with space and time."

And in this, Venetia, as is so common in such book, is coolly correct. If it takes the annihilation of space and time to make things right, then we should take that as a subtle hint that perhaps they were not meant to be this way.

I've noted that I spent the last week in NYC. My location was a hotel in Battery City. A Hotel perhaps two blocks away from "ground zero." In my walking tours, I often used the Overpass at Vesey Street to get to Church Street and beyond. Doing so requires you to walk by the huge pit in the ground that marks the place where once the two towers stood and where thousands of people died all in a couple of hours.

Couple this with a couple of facts that I learned during a short circle-line cruise I took on the last evening there and you have a most interesting picture. Directly across the street from my hotel was World Financial Four, two of the towers of which--the Merrill Lynch and the American Express were damaged in the fall. A little further away was the Deutsches Bank, a building now being dismantled story by story because it could not be repaired.

However, much closer than either of these two building is St. Paul's Chapel--a small old Church that fronts on Broadway, and whose cemetery was across the street from the two towers. This building sustained no damage whatsoever in the fall. Some of the tombstones in the cemetery were damaged, and much of the property covered in debris. But there was no damage, no rebuilding required, nothing.

I don't take any message from this really, but being a person of faith, I find more than a strange synchronicity in these facts. I see the hand of God--providence--in this small mercy. It's a little sign, easily overlooked in the horrors of the day. But if you think about it--the mechanics of the fall were providential as well. Easily within the shadow of the towers were two or three elementary schools, a college, and a high school (one of the most prominent in Manhattan--Stuyvesant--alma mater to such illustrious contributors as Thelonious Monk). If the buildings had toppled, or the debris been more scattered and spread, these children would also have been hurt.

I understand--the laws of physics governed the fall. This was not chance, nor was it one of several possibilities--it is simply the way the universe works. And yet, one can only wonder why the universe works that way and whether perhaps in His wisdom, when all was being fashioned this was a mercy that was worked into the fabric of creation. God, after all is God. The universe was His to make as He pleased. The "laws" of science that govern us were given us from His hand for His purposes.

Walking by the pit where these building once stood forces one to recognize both the horror of the tragedy and the great goodness of God who prevented it from being far worse that it already was. To me, this is a mysterious and hope-inspiring sign from God.

Please forgive the paucity of entries the last several days. I have been in New York City, working hard to complete a project--and when I wasn't working I was spending time touring the city.

It is about this latter that I want to make some comments. The other day, I was down on Wall Street. I had gotten there walking up Broad Street after visiting Fraunces Tavern. After taking a picture of the place where Washington was sworn in as president and of two police men standing outside the J.P. Morgan building in gear little short of complete military including machine or submachine guns, I took one of my favorite pictures up the street of Trinity Church framed by the canyon of buildings.

Let me pause here for my first comment. It amazes me how little Wall Street "gets it". The entire street is blocked off to traffic, as is Broad street--the two on which the New York Stock Exchange sits. It is impossible to enter this building or, in fact, almost any building along Wall Street without passing through a battery of security. Now, I suppose it is wise for us to be cautious, but the purpose of 9-11 was not to attack Wall Street, American Finance, or anything else--it was to make a point--you are vulnerable--any time and all of the time. Period. You can be as secure as you care to be, but you are still vulnerable--completely. These buildings were chosen not because of commerce, or at least not entirely, but because they were one of the most recognizable landmarks on the American scene. But Wall Street hunkered in like a turtle withdrawing into its shell to the point of what happened next.

Continuing my walk to the end of Wall Street on Broadway, I saw a plaque. I love historical markers. I take pictures of nearly all that I see and then read them when I get home. This marker announced the location of the fortified wall that protected early New Amsterdam--certainly an important one for NYC and the United States. So, naturally I wanted to take a picture. Raising my camera, and very obviously focused on an otherwise completely blank piece of wall, I apparently alarmed a security person who informed me that no pictures were allowed. I pointed to the plaque. He said, "Not even of the plaque. It's stupid if you ask me, but that's the rule." Well the rule was made by the Bank of New York on which the plaque resides, and it struck me then, as it does now that in all senses of the word, a business does not own the exterior view of that business. They have neither right nor cause to prevent photography of exteriors. Even if we grant that some regulation can be sanctioned in these times, they certainly do not have the right to regulate what happens to the plaque on the building--a piece of public property and heritage if ever there was one.

Which leads me to the point. We have grown so security conscious and so frightened of our own shadows, that we have begun to sacrifice some of our liberty and some of our freedom to our fear. As Benjamin Franklin pointed out--"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety."

It can be legitimately argued that photographing a plaque on the side of a building does not constitute an essential liberty. I would probably agree with that. But nevertheless, if we live in such fear that we limit these kinds of activities, then haven't those who planned the attacks actually won a tremendous victory? Haven't we robbed ourselves of one of the essentials of a free people and government--that being living in reality, not in fear?

We have become a society of fear. Any group that requires old women in walkers to remove their shoes before getting on a plane has had something go wrong with its wiring. We've seen this problem in other aspects of our society as well. It is a continuation of the culture-of-death mentality that dominates the modern landscape. Global warming, abortion, euthanasia, airport security, and a host of other symptoms point to the essential facts of a people who have lost their faith and their willingness to believe. Whether or not we like to admit it, this is one of the things that transformed a handful of bickering colonies into a super-power. Our ascendancy was short, and is passing--we have moved into the shadow of fear from which I see no sign of return. Our work goes out to India and China and so our great wealth flows out of a land of promise into the lands of new promise. There is nothing much to mourn here except the loss of moral conviction without which we all stand naked--the emperor in his new clothes--and these clothes take the form of hyperprotected guards at the mouths of financial institutions of no interest to anyone save those who work within them, and hysterical prohibitions against celebrating our heritage and history.