Creators

“Stem Cell Research, I am sorry for those horrible things I said…yes, yes I love you. I want you back.”

“Cloning! You are right, I miss you. My mistress? It’s over. She scares me. Take my DNA, please I am yours.”

Holy Crap! How I wish that current bio ethical controversies still involved the first loves of the nineties personified above. Our current lover is much too frightening…more than the corniness employed in this post’s introduction. Read THIS.

I am not a scientist; I am no geneticist—but still I have to ask why? To fight greenhouses gasses and toxic waste? If efficiency is a variable in science (Occam's Razor), why create what can be found, or at least manipulated from what can be found?

If I had to guess, and my ego gives me no other option, our buddies at Foundation for Applied Molecular Evolution and Harvard Medical school are hanging the juicy carrot of “ecological repair” to distract us from the unfortunate truth that I believe is at the root of their research, a truth that drives not only ethic bending science, but also tyrrany, displays of power, wars, etc.—“because I can.”

Memoirs of a Geisha

Yesterday I wrote about Rome, tonight I write about Japan...hardly.

While in high school I took four years of Japanese as my foreign language. Unfortunately, I remember very little besides a few basic statements, the classroom experiences, and the occasional dream in which the floodgates of repressed subconscious are released in a torrent bilingual bliss.

Nearly ten years removed from the initial learning experience, I have to say, there is still a place in my heart for the Japanese language and culture--the ethnic pride, the commitment to progression at every level, and the fastidious love for the rich history and tradition that set this people group apart.

Tonight I watched the movie Memoirs of a Geisha. Skeptical before the first scene graced the screen, within a few moments I was hooked. The story, the setting, the historical representation, the character, the cast...all made this a great experience. For a disinterested pop culture bystander, this was Hollyweird at its best. As the cliche love story came to a close the tears in the aspiring Geisha's eyes seemed more than legit.

At one point in the movie the Geisha is taught to use sexual persuasion to boost her popularity, enticing her companion with her sexuality by subtly exposing the her wrist--flashing some skin. Man, I wish that was today's standard for sexual temptation. The movie itself depended on story telling rather than boob shots, death, or overused actors.

So, if you are going to rent a movie from the movie machine in your local supermarket like my wife did, check Memoirs of a Geisha out.

"Romerica" or America, the Reincarnation of Rome

The period of Roman expansion began in the 3rd century BCE—but the height of their magnificent imperialism was cresting immediately proceeding and occurring during the life of history’s most famous carpenter, Jesus Christ. One cannot possibly begin to understand Jesus and His message without first familiarizing themselves with the religious/historical/political culture into which he was born.

As I was getting to know this setting via L. Michael White’s From Jesus to Christianity, I felt a strange connection with this ancient force. After contemplation, I realized I knew the Roman Empire in reincarnated form…America. I was excited. Keep in mind, I am no historian. So seeing this correlation was exciting to me. But alas, the bubble burst in conversation with a friend. As I shared my “findings,” my friend pointed out that a book had already been written on the subject—the book (unread by this blogger) will be the first book tackled by the up-and-coming Ivan’s Book club (see previous post).

A few initial observations:
The Romans insisted upon occupation of the “world.” The Greek term for the Roman Empire was oikoumene—lit. world. The US has more embassies than any other nation. Our present is felt nearly everywhere under the auspice of “keeping the peace,” rather than, “imperialism.”
The Romans allowed and encouraged syncretism of seemingly contradictory cultures (art, language, religion). Had the term “melting pot” existed at the dawn of the first millennia, the Romans would have cherished and employed as national policy.
Nothing solidified the correlation more than Roman foreign policy; at least the public portrayal thereof. What follows is an example of one of many inscriptions prominent throughout the Roman Empire during the reign of Augustus. These inscriptions were found on statues of the great leader. Consider them, “political ad campaigns,” or “the Emperor’s address to the nation,” in ancient form:

On land and sea I undertook wars, both civil and foreign,
throughout the whole world, and when victorious I spared all citizens who sued for pardon. Foreign nations what could safely be pardoned I preferred to save rather than destroy.

When I returned from Spain and Gaul, in the consulship
of Tiberius Nero and Publius Quintilius, after successful operations in those provinces, the senate voted in honor of my return the consecration of an altar to Pax Augustus in the
Campus Martius, and on this altar if ordered the magistrates and priests and Vestal Virgins to make annual sacrifice.
[The temple of] Janus Quirinus (gate keeper of “times’, so to speak) which our ancestors ordered to be closed whenever there was peace, secured by victory, throughout the whole imperium of
the Roman people on land and sea, and which, before my birth is recorded to have been closed but twice since
the very foundation of the city, the senate ordered closed three times while I was princeps.
I extended the boundaries of all the provinces that were
bordered by races not yet subject to our imperium. The
provinces of the Gauls, Spain, and Germany I reduced to a state of peace.
The Alps I brought to state of peace without waging unjust
war on any tribe.
When I had extinguished the flames of civil
war, after receiving by universal consent the absolute control
of public affairs, I transformed the republic from my own control the
will of the senate and Roman people. For this service I was given decree of the senate title Augustus, and the doorposts
of my house were covered with laurels by public act, and a civic crown was fixed above my door, and a
golden shield was placed in the curia Julia, the inscription on which
testified that the senate and roman people gave me this
recognition in honor of my valor, my clemency, my justice, and my
piety. (White, 43-44)

Wow. Read this. Reread this. Preemptive strikes to secure world peace and democracy? Stepping in to settle foreign civil wars? Extending boundaries unselfishly (enculturation of foreign races for their own good—for peace?

Sounds a lot like America, post industrial revolution! What a heritage...But Rome fell.

Gypsies, Conscience, and Ivan's Book Club II

Before I get into the book club, here is a quick thought to follow up yesterday's post. In scratching the surface of a major Christian theological issue, I touched on the importance of works for any Christian. The love of mankind is secondary only to the love of the Creator, this is clear not only from the book of James, but from the representation of Jesus in the Gospels. Unfortunately the egocentristic nature in all of us overrides this social gospel, and I am as guilty as the rest. Case in point:


While in Croatia, a beautiful country recovering from a crippling civil war, I witnessed the arrival of humanitarian aid--boxes of clothes; gifts from America. The local Pastor who hosted hardly had the strength to open the boxes. "I get this all the time," he said in a disgusted and weary voice. Lifting the cardboard lid revealed the dirty, stained, moth-eaten, throw aways that not only eased the humanitarian sting of someone like me, but also provided them with a tax write-off. The pastor picked a few decent ones out of the bunch some friends in the neighboring gypsy community, and deemed the rest garbage worthy. I remember him quipping something to the effect of, "gypsies don't deserve others' garbage."





So as I drove past a Planet Earth clothes drop off box today, with piles of throw-aways next to it, I was reminded of the scripture I had read the night before, the Gypsies, and my own neglect of what it means to be a Christian and a human being. My hardworking neighbor in the Balkans deserves better. I pray to provide better.





So, now that I have left the confessional, I aim to get this book club started. Following the only suggestion provided, the first book will be Are We Rome: The Fall of an Empire and the Fate of America. I actually pondered the idea before the book existed (tommorrow's blog post), so I am excited. Email me (email through profile page) or leave a comment if you intend on taking part. I checked online, and the book is on the shelves of the public library here in town, so you need not go purchase it if finances do not permit. I will start a new blog, accessible under my profile page. This is a first for me, so I will play it by ear; however, I am anticipating reading the first chapter and publishing my thouhts in the form of a blog post by next Friday. I am hoping a firestorm of comments ensues. I will not publish the next post; rather, I hope that the participants will email their thoughts so that I may publish them and be given the chance to comment.





Spread the word. I doubt more than 3 or 4 will engage in the first book, but I hope for more. Include your friends, your family, your blogroll...let's engage each other, let's grow together, let's read together!

Monergism? Synergism?

I grew up under the umbrella of monergism but truly, its arguments have never satisfied me, but then again, synergism seems to be filled with many more holes. Truly over time, I believe the meaning of the terms have changed, but in a nutshell, if you are not familiar with the terms, monergism suggests God alone, in his grace, is responsible in the salvific act that reconciles man with God. Synergism, on the other hand, suggests that a cooperation of sorts exists—man plays a part in the role.

Obviously, at first glance synergism sounds heretical to a guy like me, brought up and educated under an evangelical protestant worldview—how can man, lowly man, play a part in his own salvation.

But, according to any stream of reformed theology, does God manipulate man, supernaturally taking command of his motor functions, forcing his lips to utter the confession to save his soul, that Jesus is the Son of God, the sacrificial atonement for his sins? NO! In that sense, monergism, is inadequate.

We must work (in the sense of involvement) for our salvation. Truly, Christ did the dirty work, that which we cannot…he lived a perfect life and willingly accepted a guiltless punishment. But, freewill must be considered in the equation. Jesus is not going to confess himself for us, otherwise we are mindless drones. Humankind has to take part and make that confession. So yes, I believe we are intrinsically involved in our own salvation, which is a very pre-reformation ideal:

Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of grace, no one
can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and justification, at the beginning
of conversion. Moved by the Holy Spirit and by charity, we can then merit for
ourselves and for others the graces needed for our sanctification, for the
increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of eternal life. Even
temporal goods like health and friendship can be merited in accordance with
God's wisdom. These graces and goods are the object of Christian prayer. Prayer
attends to the grace we need for meritorious actions. (1994 catachism)

James himself was very synergistic (chapter 2):

20 Fool! Would you not like to know that faith without deeds is
useless?
21 Was not Abraham our father justified by his deed, because he
offered his son Isaac on the altar?
22 So you can see that his faith was
working together with his deeds; his faith became perfect by what he did.
23
In this way the scripture was fulfilled: Abraham put his faith in God, and this
was considered as making him upright; and he received the name 'friend of
God'.
24 You see now that it is by deeds, and not only by believing, that
someone is justified.

The Sky is Falling, The Sky is Falling!

A recent Newsday post brought to light yet another round of attacks between opposing parties common to pre-election campaigning. However, Newsday's focus was not the candidates but the bias of the carrier, in this case The New York times, notoriously left wing.

The Times apparently should have charged MoveOn.org $142,083.00 instead of the $64,575 deal of the lifetime they received. A disgruntled Giuliani demanded and received the same deal for his rebutle to the ad by MoveOn.

Here is where the beauty of a free market econemy and the first ammendment meet to make the Newsday article not so newsworthy. The New York Times have the freedom to publish whatever they desire per the first ammendment and have the flexibility of the free market econemy to charge what they wish. The fact that The Times gave both sides of the fence the same deal (smart move) coupled with the fact that New Yorkers have the choice of reading the right wing bias of the New York Post deems Newsdays article less controversial than they had hoped.

I am looking forward to my opportunity to help determine the course of the country in the up and coming election--don't get me wrong. But I am equally, if not more looking forward to interesting and worthwhile reporting on real issues!

Ivan's Book Club

Tonight I read the first six chapters of Tony Campolo's, Letters to a Young Evangelical as part of book club I was recently invited into. After six chapters of Dr. Philesque "I understand" language, I have decided, while there are nuggets of worthwhile truths to be gleaned from the pages, I am not a big fan.

Campolo is as wishy washy as his existential, pragmatic, modernistic leanings. In his 'epistle' entitled Why We Witness (beautiful alliteration!) he begins with a critical review of public evangelical composure when faced with the dilemma of the exclusive claims of Christianity--the impetus for evangelization.

As the chapter closes, Campolo himself falls prey to the snare of modernity and leaves the reader in a cloud of ambiguity, like those whom he criticised at the start of the chapter. Is he a universalist or isn't he? He is sold out on the impetus, so I am guessing he isn't but perhaps at times he himself is just as confused.

All that to say, I have never joined a book club. I am interested to listen to everyone elses thoughts on Tuesday. Have you read the book? What are your thoughts?

Here is the real point of this post (I know, I am terrrible communicator--either that or I love the sound of my own voice, thus you had to read through all that to get to this): I would like to start a book club in the form of the blog. Each week those who wish to participate would read designated chapters. Participants would take turns writing their thoughts in form of a post (emailed to me), and the rest could respond in the form of comments.

Are you interested??? Leave a comment or email me through link on my profile page!

30 Pounds of Compassion

Life is so organized! It amazes me when coincidental occurrences of life accommodate such smooth syncopation-i.e. this blog and its random posts.

A significant part of last night's post dealt with the Mother of Compassion, Mother Theresa, a woman whose commitment to her faith led her to an compassionate commitment to the less fortunate; the marginalized; the orphans. The following morning, compassion in its purest form smacked me in the face.

The sun was just peaking its brilliant face over the eastern horizon. I was up with our infant, Ezekiel, providing his breakfast and struggling to keep my eyes open. In effort to keep my heavy lids lifted, I turned the television set on. I had no idea what was being broadcast into my home...I was just trying to feed Ezekiel and induce him back into a state of sleep. My three year old, Aylah, had wakened and was playing with some toys at my feet.

As I fed our infant, I did notice that the program on the television was an advertisement for the organization Feed the Children. Shots of emaciated Haitian children flooded the screen, but I payed little attention--I was barely awake. Then the sweet little voice of Aylah brought me back to reality. The sweet little voice said, "That makes me sad, daddy."

I lifted my head. Surely Aylah had not said that! As I attempted to replay her words in my head, it made more sense that she was simply commentating on the ghostly figure of an underfed and near-death figure of a small Haitian boy. She must have said, "that boy is sad, daddy."

So I asked her, "Aylah, what did you say?"

She may as well have said nothing. I turned to her and saw that her little three year old faced was puckered with sorrow. But she replied, "That makes me sad, daddy."

Sweet empathy! I would not have thought it possible that such a built-in love for humanity could surface in a three year old--my three year old--as compassion so strong so as to evoke such a stirring emotional response.

As I fell asleep last night my thoughts were centered around the deep rooted compassion of an elderly nun, only to be awoken by a display of compassion by an innocent child. I am ashamed. I am humbled. My daughter, my junior by 24 years, was used this morning to teach me what it means to love.

I can only pray, "God, please give me the same compassion contained in the tiny body you allowed me to help create."