At Home On Piety Hill

From the Telegraph: http://www.telegraph.co.uk

Don’t you love Tina Fey’s portrayal of Sarah Palin? So do I. It was fun watching Palin on Saturday Night Live and it’s cool that she’s such a good sport about their spoofs on her and the family. Check out this response in her recent People Magazine interview:

Interviewer: Tina Fey plays you sort of bubble-headed. You obviously –

Sarah Palin: That’s funny, I play her bubble-headed, too, when I imitate her.

I’m still, um, looking, uh, forward to SNL’s political satire of, uuuuuh, the Obama Presidency and that whiney first-lady, Michelle Marie-Antoinette Obama.

This post will take some twists and turns, but hopefully we’ll pass some points of interest for each reader along the way (all 3 of you).

We visited our friend, Joan, who was our next-door neighbor when we lived in the village of Sedgwick way back in ‘93. She owns one of the oldest, if not the oldest, homes in town. She was getting her wheel all ready for a spinning demonstration at the Blue Hill Fair. It seemed very appropriate to watch her at work in the parlor of the home, near the great brick fireplace and original paneling.

Joan also spins for one of my favorite artisans and former customers, Betsy Coakley of Mermaid Woolens fame. She designs some of the most beautiful sweaters I’ve ever seen. If you are a fan of woolen wearables, you simply must visit her site. I love this photo of a selection of her past designs — I think the backdrop of fallen snow make the warm, vibrant colors sort of leap out at you. She also paints stair treads and does a dozen other cool things. Be sure to read her bio, when you visit.

Now, speaking of the Blue Hill Fair, you probably remember it as the setting of the children’s story, Charlotte’s Web. Well, Charlotte’s Web was written by E.B. White, who lived in neighboring Brooklin Maine. Mr. White had two housekeepers, who I knew; Ethel and Tink. Denise and I became good friends of Ethel’s, so when we visit Maine we like to stay in the apartment above her garage. Sometime I’ll tell you about the wonderful conversations I used to have with Ethel and the stories she would tell. She is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met! She grew up over to Brooksville.

Now, Brooksville is on the other side of Sedgwick from Brooklin and, when you go there you will want to visit Buck’s Harbor, where you will find Condon’s Garage. That establishment figures prominently in Robert McCloskey’s One Morning in Maine. I think we have most of his books and my favorite is Blueberries for Sal. I have to admit that I enjoy his drawings even more than the stories themselves. Denise and I read that the garage was closing down and I think we saw it come up for sale in the multiple listings a year or so ago. 

Mr. McCloskey died in his home on Deer Isle not too long ago. Deer Isle was the home of famous primitive folk artist, George Hardy. One of our favorite documentaries of all time is Portrait of George Hardy by Gabriel Coakley (sound familiar?). Gabe won the Cine Golden Eagle Award at the US Super-8 Video Festival in 1995 and let me tell you - I’ve never seen anything that captures winter on the Eggemoggin Reach like that film, with the sped up sequences of wind blowing sea smoke across the chilly waters and Mr. Hardy bustin’ up the ice on his stoop, so he can get his door open. 

So, there you have it. A bit of serendipity, combined with free-writing and a little nostalgia of our time on the Blue Hill Peninsula, brought to mind by our brief visit in August. More to follow…

How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God! Hebrews 9:14

I was preparing to preach through this passage last Sunday and I stumbled upon this unexpected gem. I found it in the the original edition of The Interpreter’s Bible commentary on page 692. This is a fairly liberal reference and the scholarship, though cutting edge in the mid 20th century, is now dated. This exposition by Quaker New Testament scholar Alexander C. Purdy is refreshingly orthodox and disturbingly insightful:

This verse marks the turning point in man’s salvation. As long as he loses himself in the crowd, submerges himself in the forces that play upon him, blames his failures on his circumstances, finds his purification in external rites that do not touch the self, he is not a person. He has not encountered God. But when he meets God and sees himself, his inmost self, as the source of his misery, he begins to become responsible: i.e., he begins to be a human person. He now knows that no sacrifice will suffice unless it purifies his conscience.

But with this new knowledge comes a new despair. He cannot save himself. However heroic his moral effort, he cannot remove his own self-contradiction, i.e., his alienation from God. However long he may live, however he may multiply good works and penance to “make up for” the evil deeds that he has done, he cannot succeed. For it is not merely his deeds that were wrong, but himself. Not merely his trespasses need forgiving: he himself needs cleansing.

Nor can any easy forgiveness satisfy his conscience. The forgiveness must cost a heavy price, must leave him dwelling in the land of moral reality to which he has just become awake. This despair is the human last, beyond which the divine first begins. Completely humbled, he is finally prepared to receive the divine forgiveness. Only in the eternal self-giving of God can his conscience be purified from dead works. Only in God’s own sacrifice can the believer be restored to his rightful place as a child of God, to find his life, his destiny, his joy in serving the living God.

I heard about this hero and had to track down his story. Glad I did:

Being blind is no different than being sighted,” he said. “You just live life a little differently.

Smiley and his wife both credit their faith with sustaining them over the past 16 months. “I just thank Jesus Christ every day that I’m even alive,” Smiley said after he was promoted.

Boy, have we been going ever since we flew into Manchester NH! We’ve been looking at land, while squeezing in visits with friends, whoopie pies, red snappy hot dogs and some haddock, followed by pie at Helen’s! Our friends, the Websters, have been great hosts. I’ve published a few photos here.

I only recently learned that Leon Morris went to be with the Lord in July ‘06. He was one of my favorite Bible commentators and authors, who had the ability to pack a lot into a few words, composed in an orderly, pleasant style. That may owe to his background as a science teacher, self-taught Bible scholar and pastor turned academic — a powerful combination. He was also accessible and among my treasures I still have a personal letter he wrote in response to some questions I sent him. I was pleased to find this appropriately thorough, yet simple obituary to a man who wielded such a huge influence on modern Evangelicalism. Here is the kernel:

Leon Lamb Morris was perhaps Australia’s most prolific biblical and theological author. He wrote over fifty books of theology and biblical commentary which have sold nearly two million copies worldwide and been translated into many languages. This is an astonishing output for an Australian writing technical or academic books. He was well-known throughout the Christian world as a careful, conservative biblical scholar. Extraordinarily, Morris received no formal theological education, apart from two years of supervision for his doctorate in Cambridge. He was self-taught theologian who brought his rigorous and disciplined training in scientific enquiry to his study of the Bible and theology.

I always enjoy learning about the personal lives of technical authors or scholars who somehow resonate or “speak to me” through what I expect to be dry or analytical works. Sometimes, I even find points of similarity (usually some annoying trait — rarely anything of their intellect or learning) Leon Morris is one of those writers and I was so pleased to find this anecdote which could have been written about Denise and I, as I try to make the most of my Bible study time:

Mildred, whom he married in 1941, would drive the bumpy, dusty roads of South Australia while Leon studied New Testament Greek in the passenger seat.

Farewell, Leon… I will see you in the resurrection.

George Clooney, a card-carrying member of the compassion of the month club, has just figured out that there’s a problem in the Darfur region of Sudan. Memo to George: Sudan has been embroiled in civil strife and committing genocide for a real long time (like, about 100 years). You’re a little late to the party.

Poor George also seems to be unaware that his tribe is actively opposing the US efforts to bring an end to genocide and ethnic cleansing in Iraq, because they are in the middle of a civil war and it’s un-American to meddle in the internal affairs of sovereign nations — especially if George W. Bush is President. “But, wait!” counters George. “I’m calling for the United Nations to step up in Darfur, not the US.” Evidently, George is unaware that the UN is impotent and unable to accomplish anything (except rape, scandal and incompetence) without the US or NATO becoming directly involved. The US invaded Iraq to enforce UN resolution 1441, not to mention about a dozen previously flaunted resolutions and tons of sanctions. The Bosnian situation was spiraling out of control until the US and NATO gave in to the carping and whining of Europe, because they knew they couldn’t handle the problem on their own. Without the United States, the UN is a debate society and oasis for third-world dictators to enjoy all the things they deny their fellow countrymen back home.

On the other hand, the US was run out of Mogadishu by thugs and stood by during the genocide in Rwanda and the murderous civil war between northern and southern Sudan. Of course, that was during the ’90s when most of America thought the world was at peace with us and all those terrorist acts taking place were just unrelated law enforcement problems.

George Clooney and many in the US seem confused and need to make up their minds. Should the people of the US engage the world as a force for positive change or not? What factors determine where and when we use the might of our military? Finally, I want to know if it’s only okay for Presidents with a D after their name to launch cruise missles and commit troops or does that prerogative reside with Republican Presidents, too? As of today, I’m getting mixed signals from guys like George Clooney.

Tea-Bag mail Protest Worries Post Office

Illinois’ lieutenant governor is urging people to mail tea bags to two electric utilities to protest rate increases — an idea that leaves the post office cold. The Postal Service on Wednesday encouraged people to make their point instead with empty tea bags, saying lumpy bags could harm its equipment and create security scares by leaking brown residue.

I’m here at Panera again, blogging as Denise does our shopping… this is wonderful and peaceful… and it’s a long way from Uganda… a real long way.

My nephews (names withheld to preserve their privacy) were talking about the lost children of Uganda and how they would like to do what they can to help these victims of the most brutal civil war imaginable. The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) under the command of Joseph Kony continues to ravage the northern districts of Gulu and Kitgum in Uganda along the Sudanese border. You can follow the links for the details of this devilish “rebel” leader and his recruiting methods, along with the different ways that people are helping the “night commuters” — children who make the nightly trek into town to avoid being abducted in their villages. The civil war has been going on for about twenty years, but as is often the case, many people in the west are just now becoming aware of the problem.

I’ve wanted to write about Uganda a number of times before… I’ve visited twice, made lifelong friends and hope to return in the future (with Denise and the kids, too). Camille has been there to teach accounting to medical staff and she has expressed a desire to return.

The first time I traveled to Uganda with Emma in 2000, our hosts took us to a “safe place,” well out of range of the LRA. We were in Nakasake in the Luwero district, just north of Kampala. Our church team taught the Bible, preached in the open air, operated medical clinics and worked with the many schools in the area. Immediately upon arrival, we received news that there were elements of the LRA on “the prayer mountain,” which was a hill about a mile away! We continued to do our work, but the presence of paramilitary security men became more visible and they kept us near the center of town or watched us closely as we traveled to nearby villages. These security men did not like their photos taken, so you will have to settle for these shots of one of our “guardian angels” from a later trip.

I have dozens of stories to tell (ebola outbreak, goat on a stick, naked muzungus showering, etc,) and hope to blog about them later, but the subject at hand is the crisis in northern Uganda. Our first trip to Uganda was the result of a call for Christian workers to establish and support ministries to women, who had been abducted, raped and/or mutilated by the LRA. When they escape or are returned to their villages, they are often treated as outcasts. We helped set up training centers, where these women learned trades like sewing, bicycle maintenance and other skills to earn a living. We also sent food and medicine.

My second trip was with another team, which headed south to take building materials and the Gospel to a small village, where we also held a huge medical clinic. Then, we went north to Kumi, which is very close to the frontlines in Uganda’s war with the LRA and even shuttled people to a leprosy hospital there. We never saw or heard anything about the LRA in Kumi. However, on that trip we arrived in Kampala at the same time our host was just returning from a harrowing escape from southern Sudan, through LRA territory in Gulu. He and another missionary had gone up and met someone with a bulldozer in Sudan, where they had built a landing strip for relief cargo planes to use to supply refugees, fleeing the fighting in Darfur and other places. The first plane to use the strip landed to pick them up, taxied to the end of the runway and planted the nose of the plane in the ground! So, they had to walk out of Sudan into Uganda and then seek safe passage back to Kampala. Life is never easy in Uganda!

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a letter to the editor of The Union, our local newspaper. Here’s the text:

With the elimination of al-Zarqawi, pundits point out that there are hundreds al-Qaida to take his place. This would be the safe bet. However, history demonstrates that Islamic terrorists can change. The Baha’i faith is a good example.

Baha’is trace their lineage to the Bab, a 19th century Muslim terrorist who called on world leaders to repent and join him under the flag of the Mahdi. His followers carried his message through armed conflict, beheadings and murder until they were brutally suppressed by the Persian government.

After the Bab’s execution, leadership fell to one of his lieutenants, Baha’u'llah, who quickly began modernizing the various cells. He made gains, yet continued to own black slaves, hold plural wives and carry on a blood feud with his brother.

Baha’u'llah’s son, Abdu’l-Baha, guided the movement into the 20th century, abandoning the Bab’s tactics of “the striking of necks, the burning of books and papers, the destruction of shrines, and the universal slaughter of all save those who believed and were faithful.”

If the world responds to al-Qaida with condemnation and military force, perhaps they too will adopt a quietist expression of their religion, as the Baha’is have. Let’s hope they do.

A Baha’i reader took exception with my premise and, unfortunately, I was unable to develop it as fully as I would have liked to. The newspaper has a word limit for publication. However, I hope to carry on a dialogue in the comments. I think that by the current definition, the Bab and his followers would definitely be classed as terrorists. If you would like to read more about Babi militancy, you can check out these sources:

• From Babism to Baha’ism: Problems of Militancy, Quietism, and Conflation in the Construction of a Religion by Denis MacEoin
• An Examination of Distortion and Suppression in 20th Century Baha’i Literature by Vance Salisbury (that’s me)
• The Baha’i Faith: It’s History and Teachings by William Miller
• The Babi Movement: A Resource Mobilization Perspective by Peter Smith and Moojan Momen

Write Fink! has been blogging about old VWs and conjured up a few memories of, believe it or not, young romance. When I met Denise (she was 17 and I was 18), she had a blue 1966 Volkswagen Beetle, much like the one in the photo. Technically, it was Brian, Denise and Diane’s VW, but when Brian was off to school, Denise had seniority and it was eventually handed down to Diane. My heart still thumps when I think of Denise, long blonde hair blowing through the window, leaning into a turn, cranking the wheel with her left hand, while down-shifting with her Dr. Scholl’s clogs. Phew… I better cool down here.

It had one of those crank sunroofs, which meant that we didn’t need racks for my surfboard… just stuck it out the top! It got good mileage, ran well and I remember the radio working. However, it did have one particularly annoying flaw. There was some sort of obstruction in the channel, which the cables ran through to the engine compartment. It seems once every six months, the clutch cable would snap in some inconvenient location, like a busy intersection. Still, we enjoyed that car very much.

There were other Volkswagens in my life. A guy I worked for had a legendary old bus; white with windows and and Union Jack painted on each side on the small back panel. Then, there was Joe’s bus with problems overheating. His solution? “We’ll just pull the engine.” It seems like we spent a lot of time pushing the bus away from a motor on a jack, until the last time when the flywheel came off outside of Cloverdale CA. That’s when being a hippie became a real drag.

Joe M (preserving his annonymity) had a “rock buggy” — an original dune buggy, chopped with floatation tires on the back, which he would sneak out at age 14 (I was 13), late at night, to go forth wreaking havoc (idiots).

Andy had a ‘58 bus with no windows and double doors on each side — one side welded shut. It had a dangerously small motor — 1100 something CCs, I think. The van was totally beat and had “Moon Unit” spray-painted on the side, as well as spirals on each hubcap. Their was a reason behind the junky exterior. This was about 1973 and inside, Andy had a state-of-the-art TEAC cassette player, a big amp and some monster speakers, as well as a comfy mattress. As I recall, we just drove around listening to music real loud.

Denny’s VW was the best!

I just finished the redesign of our Overcoming Necrotizing Fasciitis website. It is now leaner, faster and easier to navigate. I’ve also added some new features and resources. Join the hundreds of thousands of visitors, who come to the site each year to find information, solutions and hope for those suffering from necrotizing fasciitis.

Honor After The Fall
Jim Sheeler / Rocky Mountain News
Posted Sunday, Nov. 13, 2005

Each door is different. Some are ornately carved hardwood, some are hollow aluminum. Over the past year, Marine Major Steve Beck has stood at the front door of five family homes in three states to deliver the message no one wanted to hear. When a Marine dies, Beck’s goal is to reach the kin within four hours, before they hear it on the news. With the permission of the families whose men died in Iraq, we watched as they cursed Beck, embraced him and learned to trust him. He stays by them that first day or night and then guides them through the dark months that follow. ‘In this business, I can’t save his life,’ he says. ‘All I can do is catch the family when they’re falling.’

After slamming the tabloid press a couple of days ago, I came across this feature in TIME magazine; a heart-rending article about Major Steve Beck and his incredible love for the families of fallen Marines. I was in tears when I saw the photo of Katherine Cathey collapsing on Beck and I can hardly type this right now. Good job Jim Sheeler and kudos to TIME magazine for publishing a powerful, uplifting story.

Follow this link to a slideshow of the photos from the TIME article. The full article, including video and spoken word by Katherine Cathey can be found at The Rocky Mountain News. Please take the time to listen to Katherine’s message from her husband about the people of Iraq.