DESCARTES BONES-- CAN YOU DIG THEM?

Perhaps if you know any Latin at all, you will know the little phrase 'cogito ergo sum' or 'I think/cogitate therefore I am'. It is perhaps one of the most famous sentences ever uttered in modern history. The first time I ever heard this phrase was, oddly enough, whilst listening to one of my favorite Moody Blues albums, when all of a sudden either Justin Hayward or John Lodge said in one of their more ethereal songs "I think, therefore I am" to which they added "at least I think I am." The irony of that is that they added 'doubt' to the one proposition that Descartes said could not be doubted-- the thinking subject cannot doubt that he exists or else he wouldn't be thinking. Descartes was on a quest for what a person can know with certainty. It was a lonely quest, and in the end it landed him in Sweden freezing to death and dying of a fever, as a guest of Queen Christina of Stockholm.

But that ending on Feb. 11th 1650 was the beginning of not only a story about his bones and their various bizarre travels, but really the story of modern intellectual history and how it broke free from medieval feudalism and the control of one state church after another. It is a story that in one sense led to the American and French revolutions, and if for no other reason, it is a story Americans ought to study closely if they want to understand not merely the origins of their intellectual freedom to speak and believe freely as they feel led and are persuaded, but also the origins of the modern tension between faith and reason, church and state, mind and body, certainity and doubt, objective and subjective evidence, and we could go on. The basic antinomies of modern thought, whether secular or sacred, whether religious or profane can in one way or another be traced back to Descartes reflections in his most famous of all works--- "A Discourse on Method".

Here is a brief synopsis snagged from the Wiki article which I find, in this case to be fundamentally accurate---

"René Descartes (French pronunciation: [ʁəne dekaʁt]), (31 March 1596 – 11 February 1650), also known as Renatus Cartesius (latinized form),[2] was a French philosopher, mathematician, scientist, and writer who spent most of his adult life in the Dutch Republic. He has been dubbed the "Father of Modern Philosophy," and much of subsequent Western philosophy is a response to his writings, which continue to be studied closely to this day. In particular, his Meditations continues to be a standard text at most university philosophy departments. Descartes' influence in mathematics is also apparent, the Cartesian coordinate system allowing geometric shapes to be expressed in algebraic equations being named for him. He is accreditied as the father of analytical geometry. Descartes was also one of the key figures in the Scientific Revolution.

Descartes frequently sets his views apart from those of his predecessors. In the opening section of the Passions of the Soul, a treatise on the Early Modern version of what are now commonly called emotions, he goes so far as to assert that he will write on his topic "as if no one had written on these matters before". Many elements of his philosophy have precedents in late Aristotelianism, the revived Stoicism of the 16th century, or in earlier philosophers like St. Augustine. In his natural philosophy, he differs from the Schools on two major points: First, he rejects the analysis of corporeal substance into matter and form; second, he rejects any appeal to ends — divine or natural — in explaining natural phenomena. In his theology, he insists on the absolute freedom of God’s act of creation.

Descartes was a major figure in 17th century continental rationalism, later advocated by Baruch Spinoza and Gottfried Leibniz, and opposed by the empiricist school of thought consisting of Hobbes, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume. Leibniz, Spinoza and Descartes were all well versed in mathematics as well as philosophy, and Descartes and Leibniz contributed greatly to science as well. As the inventor of the Cartesian coordinate system, Descartes founded analytic geometry, the bridge between algebra and geometry, crucial to the invention of calculus and analysis. Descartes' reflections on mind and mechanism began the strain of Western thought that much later, impelled by the invention of the electronic computer and by the possibility of machine intelligence, blossomed into the Turing test and related thought. His most famous statement is: Cogito ergo sum (French: Je pense, donc je suis; English: I think, therefore I am; OR I am thinking, therefore I exist), found in §7 of part I of Principles of Philosophy (Latin) and in part IV of Discourse on the Method (French).


Descartes is often regarded as the first modern thinker to provide a philosophical framework for the natural sciences as these began to develop. In his Discourse on the Method he attempts to arrive at a fundamental set of principles that one can know as true without any doubt. To achieve this, he employs a method called hyperbolical/metaphysical doubt, sometimes also referred to as methodological skepticism: he rejects any ideas that can be doubted, and then reestablishes them in order to acquire a firm foundation for genuine knowledge.[7]

Initially, Descartes arrives at only a single principle: thought exists. Thought cannot be separated from me, therefore, I exist (Discourse on the Method and Principles of Philosophy). Most famously, this is known as cogito ergo sum (English: "I think, therefore I am"). Therefore, Descartes concluded, if he doubted, then something or someone must be doing the doubting, therefore the very fact that he doubted proved his existence. "The simple meaning of the phrase is that if one is skeptical of existence, that is in and of itself proof that he does exist." [8]
René Descartes at work.

Descartes concludes that he can be certain that he exists because he thinks. But in what form? He perceives his body through the use of the senses; however, these have previously been proven unreliable. So Descartes concludes that the only indubitable knowledge is that he is a thinking thing. Thinking is his essence as it is the only thing about him that cannot be doubted. Descartes defines "thought" (cogitatio) as "what happens in me such that I am immediately conscious of it, insofar as I am conscious of it". Thinking is thus every activity of a person of which he is immediately conscious.

To further demonstrate the limitations of the senses, Descartes proceeds with what is known as the Wax Argument. He considers a piece of wax; his senses inform him that it has certain characteristics, such as shape, texture, size, color, smell, and so forth. When he brings the wax towards a flame, these characteristics change completely. However, it seems that it is still the same thing: it is still a piece of wax, even though the data of the senses inform him that all of its characteristics are different. Therefore, in order to properly grasp the nature of the wax, he cannot use the senses. He must use his mind. Descartes concludes:

“ And so something which I thought I was seeing with my eyes is in fact grasped solely by the faculty of judgment which is in my mind. ”

In this manner, Descartes proceeds to construct a system of knowledge, discarding perception as unreliable and instead admitting only deduction as a method. In the third and fifth Meditation, he offers an ontological proof of a benevolent God (through both the ontological argument and trademark argument). Because God is benevolent, he can have some faith in the account of reality his senses provide him, for God has provided him with a working mind and sensory system and does not desire to deceive him. From this supposition, however, he finally establishes the possibility of acquiring knowledge about the world based on deduction and perception. In terms of epistemology therefore, he can be said to have contributed such ideas as a rigorous conception of foundationalism and the possibility that reason is the only reliable method of attaining knowledge.

In Descartes' system, knowledge takes the form of ideas, and philosophical investigation is the contemplation of these ideas. This concept would influence subsequent internalist movements as Descartes' epistemology requires that a connection made by conscious awareness will distinguish knowledge from falsity. As a result of his Cartesian doubt, he viewed rational knowledge as being "incapable of being destroyed" and sought to construct an unshakable ground upon which all other knowledge can be based. The first item of unshakable knowledge that Descartes argues for is the aforementioned cogito, or thinking thing.

Descartes also wrote a response to skepticism about the existence of the external world. He argues that sensory perceptions come to him involuntarily, and are not willed by him. They are external to his senses, and according to Descartes, this is evidence of the existence of something outside of his mind, and thus, an external world. Descartes goes on to show that the things in the external world are material by arguing that God would not deceive him as to the ideas that are being transmitted, and that God has given him the "propensity" to believe that such ideas are caused by material things.

Descartes was also renowned for his work in producing the Cartesian Theory of Fallacies. This can be most easily explored using the statement: "This statement is a lie." While it is most commonly referred to as a paradox, the Cartesian Theory of Fallacies states that at any given time a statement can be both true and false simultaneously due to its contradictory nature. The statement is true in its fallacy. Thus, Descartes developed the Cartesian Theory of Fallacies, which greatly influenced the thinking of the time. Many would-be philosophers were trying to develop inexplicable statements of seeming fact, however, this laid rumors of such a proposition impossible. Many philosophers believe that when Descartes formulated his Theory of Fallacies, he intended to be lying, which in and of itself embodies the theory.

Dualism


Descartes suggested that the body works like a machine, that it has the material properties of extension and motion, and that it follows the laws of physics. The mind (or soul), on the other hand, was described as a nonmaterial entity that lacks extension and motion, and does not follow the laws of physics. Descartes argued that only humans have minds, and that the mind interacts with the body at the pineal gland. This form of dualism or duality proposes that the mind controls the body, but that the body can also influence the otherwise rational mind, such as when people act out of passion. Most of the previous accounts of the relationship between mind and body had been uni-directional.

Descartes suggested that the pineal gland is "the seat of the soul" for several reasons. First, the soul is unitary, and unlike many areas of the brain the pineal gland appears to be unitary (microscopic inspection reveals it is formed of two hemispheres). Second, Descartes observed that the pineal gland was located near the ventricles. He believed the animal spirits of the ventricles acted through the nerves to control the body, and that the pineal gland influenced this process. Finally, Descartes incorrectly believed that only humans have pineal glands, just as, in his view, only humans have minds. This led him to the belief that animals cannot feel pain, and Descartes' practice of vivisection (the dissection of live animals) became widely used throughout Europe until the Enlightenment. Cartesian dualism set the agenda for philosophical discussion of the mind-body problem for many years after Descartes' death. The question of how a nonmaterial mind could influence a material body, without invoking supernatural explanations, remains controversial to this day."

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My concern in this post is not to debate Cartesianism, which has even been used to support the ontological argument for the existence of God, my concern is with the really splendid and well written book released last year by Doubleday by Russell Shorto with the title DESCARTES BONES; A SKELETAL HISTORY OF THE CONFLICT BETWEEN FAITH AND REASON.


In the first place this is a beautifully produced and first rate read. It is one part detective story (instead of where's Waldo, we seek to discover-- where's Descartes skull?), one part intellectual history of the West since Descartes, one part investigation of why there has been so much fascination with and concern about Descartes bones and legacy over the past 350+ years. Shorto, it must be said,tries to accomplish too much in some 253 pages of this well written investigation, but like imbibing a good gumbo, if you simply drink in whatever he is serving up, you will find the final product nourishing and tasty. Had the story really been limited to the detective bit of tracking Descartes bones through Europe, it would have been too short a story for a full book.

The question for us as Christians to ask about Mssr. Descartes, who was himself a devout Christian, is--- why should so many non- and anti-Christians of various eras have taken him to be their intellectual hero? Richard Watson, one of the foremost authorities on Descartes in the world, and perhaps the foremost in North America explains:

"Descartes laid the foundations for the dominance of reason in science and human affairs. He desacralized nature and set individual human being above church and state. Without Cartesian individualism, we would have no democracy. Without the Cartesian method of analyzing material things into their primary elements, we would never have developed the atom bomb. The seventeenth-century rise of Modern Science, the eighteenth century Enlightenment, the nineteenth-century Industrial Revolution, your twentieth-century personal computer, and twenty-first-century deciphering of the brain--all Cartesian. The modern world is Cartesian to the core." [Watson Cogito ergo Sum. The Life of Rene Descartes, (Boston: Godine, 2002), p. 3].


I would say, as the British do, this is over-egging the pudding a bit, but still it gives you some degree of understanding of the impact of Cartesianism on the modern western world. To the Christian it is hard to avoid hearing echoes of the primeval story of Eden lost in the reflections of Descartes.

What I mean by this is you will remember what happened to Adam and Eve, according to Gen. 3.7 when they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil-- "and the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew they were naked" Here we have not merely self-awareness, the realization that one exists, but self-consciousness in the negative sense, the heart turned in upon itself, the beginning of self-centered, selfish existence. The beginning of isolation from God and all other creatures or things. The beginning of doubt, as opposed to faith ("Did God really say.......?").

Cartesianism in some ways sounds as if it is the ultimate philosophical playing out of that primeval story, for good or ill, and mostly the latter. What we need to know about the story is that both modern radical atheism and modern fundamentalism with its anti-intellectual spirit are in fact over-reactions to Cartesianism in various ways, either on the faith side of the equation or the reason side of the equation. Shorto, insightfully puts it this way:

"'Reason vs. Faith' may be the chronic fever of modernity, but if the Western world caught it in the period of the Enlightenment the division was not as clear as some today might like to believe. There seems nowadays to be an ingrained notion that people of that era set reason firmly against faith and the two have ever been locked in a death struggle. [which Shorto rightly goes on to say is absolutely false, especially in the case of Descartes himself] Maybe this idea comes from our desire to simplify things, our hunger for sound bites and text crawls. Maybe it gives clarity to both the hard-core believers and the antireligion faction, both of which are very much alive today. People who want to drive society and politics via the motor of their religious views-- whether they are Muslims, American evangelicals, Roman Catholics, members of Indian's nationalist Hindu party-- have been particularly vocal in recent years. But the other side-- political atheists, you might call them--are voicing themselves, too, as evidenced by the titles of recent books: 'The God Delusion....' etc. The root of these atheist manifestos is the belief that society woke-up three or four centuries ago to the realization that God doesn't control the universe, that rather blind forces of nature do, but that many people around the world are still caught in the trap of religion and are threatening, with violence and intimidation, to drag humanity down the drain. If the hard-core faithful have their ancient texts to rely on for foundations, the new atheists have the Enlightenment." (pp. 79-80). But in fact both extremes of this debate and ongoing struggle have their history wrong.

As Shorto goes on to show, Descartes was not part of the radical Enlightenment, and his legacy was never a matter of repudiating faith in order to exalt reason, and make humankind and human thinking the measure of all things. His legacy has more to do with the ability to distinguish between soul and body, or even more particularly between mind and brain (the latter being the hardware and the former being the software so to speak, and without the software there is no real thinking or consciousness. A corpse still has his full material brain the instant after death, but the mind and with it consciousness has left the building). Descartes was interested in distinctions and categorizations that help us better understand ourselves, the world, and even God. He was not interested in radical dichotomies between faith and reason, and indeed to the end of his life he wrote about and looked for ways to connect the soul and the body or the mind and the body. "In his last book, Descartes states that in effect there must be a third substance, which is not really a third substance but a compound of mind and body...'I should treat it as a code, an encoding, which allows mind to react on body and body on mind." (Shorto p. 251. The quote within the quote is from Father Jean-Robert Armogathe, a Roman Catholic priest of Paris and one of the premiere experts in Descartes).

There is so much more to Shorto's stimulating book, including what happened to Descartes skull and body, which I will leave to your own peregrinations. What I would like to do here at the close of this little discussion is point out what Descartes seems to have really thought and believed.

He believed that nature is not defiled by inquiry, and so for example the examination of corpses to help us advance medicine and knowledge of human beings is not a sacrilege. Precisely because he believed in a Creator God distinct from all of his creation, he believed one was not defiling a deity when one examined nature or human nature. He could point to the story in Genesis of human beings naming and classifying the animals, of their filling the earth and understanding as well as ruling over it. Descartes, in others words, would not see most of modern empirical science as in any ways at odds with Christian faith. Indeed, he would see it as a natural outcome of such faith, believing there really is a world outside the human mind that can and ought to be examined and understood.

Secondly, Descartes did not believe that reason in itself was at odds with revelation or faith. Indeed, he believed that 'right reason' and proper faith should be seen as complementary things, though often they had different spheres of inquiry. Reason and understanding were good gifts of God, as was faith. He would no more have approved of modern atheism than he would have approved of the modern anti-intellectual spirit of Protestant fundamentalism.

Shorto in his book goes on to show how it was the Enlightement of Descartes, not the Enlightenment of the radical figures which led to the American Revolution, led to notions of intellectual freedom, freedom of speech, freedom of religion, but a continued strong faith in God. This could be contrasted with the French revolution which was the brain child of the truly godless or sometimes even pantheistic radical Enlightenemnt (see e.g. Spinoza).

I think he is right in this analysis, and here is what it means. As both Americans and Christians, we need to come to better terms with Descartes. We need to understand why Descartes' call to critical thinking without in any way jettisoning one's trust in God is the crucial via media between being benighted and blessed, between being at odds with our Maker and using all the spiritual and intellectual gifts he has given us, between bowing down to the spirit of repression and anti-intellectualism in the name of God, or the spirit of suppression of all those who would want to exorcise all religion from our intellectual history. If revering God is the beginning of all wisdom, then loving God and all others and all of creation with our entire minds must be said to be the continuation of that wisdom.

It was not natural human inquiry and intellectual curiosity which killed the Adamic cat--- it was disobedience to a clear command of God.

TWO YEAR OLD CHRISTIAN IDOL STAR

Here's a video sent to me by Marc Axelrod of Zoei Toh, a two year old that American Idol should check out, not least 'because He lives'.

Tales from Frostbite Falls-- Part Eight-- Sugar Mapling

It would be difficult to exaggerate the beauty of New England in October, and nothing is more beautiful than the maple trees, but their beauty is not confined to the outside of the tree. Within is a treasure as well, and nowhere in the U.S. is more famous for its maple syrup than Vermont (Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth need not apply. Don't trust that watered down sugar water).

This morning our house cleaner Debbie Wright, who with her husband does sugar mapling, gave me a short course in maple syrup of which there are various grades and configurations depending on when one taps the tree and where one is in the rising of the sap process. In general the darker the syrup, the more actual maple it has in it and the less pure sugar. The grades are fancy (least dark and most sugary, at least to some tastes), medium, amber, dark amber, and grade B (i.e. the coarsest). Its almost like the way ales are judged in terms of their amber color. Maple syruping happens in late February in southern Vermont where I am, and further north it can run as late as sometime in March. It also depends on what sort of winter it has been. Estimates say that upwards of 350,000 gallons of maple syrup are produced in this state every year. That's a heck of a lot of pancakes to soak that up--- say several million.

The Vermont Living website has the following to say: "Many maple sugarmakers now use plastic pipelines and boil down the sap in modern stainless evaporators, but some still gather and boil the old fashioned way; with horse drawn wagons and wood fired evaporators. The sugar shack steam is a welcome sign of spring to come.


Visiting an operating maple sugar shack is an unforgettable experience. The aroma of boiling sap and the taste of fresh maple syrup are guaranteed to bring a smile. Try old fashioned sugar on snow, or warm maple syrup over ice cream. A Vermont sugar-season tradition is a "sweet and sour" - maple syrup followed by a bite of pickle."

Somehow I can only imagine extreme mouth puckering after having maple syrup on ice cream and then trying to eat a sour pickle there after--- YIKES! What is wonderful and more common is to have a Vermont apple pie with Vermont cheddar on top warm up. Yummm..... They even have it on the breakfast menu around here!

If you want to understand why real maple syrup is costly, consider the man hours required to tap the sap, do the boiling, do the distilling, do the bottling etc. Its not a cheap process. But people have been coming to Grafton and other nearby villages for their cheese and syrup for centuries.

Grafton used to be on the old stage coach road, and the Old Grafton Inn and Tavern were a regular stop from 1801 on. It was visited by U.S Grant, Rudyard Kipling, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Teddy Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, to name but a few. The well heeled loved to come to these inns in the 19th century for a little R+R.

There was however after the beginning of the 20th century a sharp decline in both the Inns and the native cheese and syrup industries around here, due to the sharp decline in visitors. Why? The automobile. When you could travel so much faster, you could zip through Vermont in a relatively short period of time (even with the many dirt roads, which still proliferate around here). Like with so many things, the cost of progress was regress in the old values, the old verities, the old industries. Some of them are making a comeback though (hooray). If you ever get to come to Vermont in February, then I suggest not only a visit to the Grafton Cheese Factory, but hooking up with the genuine hard core sugar mapling folks and going and watching this amazing process. I'm betting your reaction will be like mine----SWEEEETTTT!

BW3

STONE WALLED

The old stone wall’s a miracle
Uneven rocks row on row
Without a bit of mortar
Yet each with a place to go.

How did the mason reckon it
So that the top would be on the level
Did he just suddenly start assembling
Or use a line and bevel?

And what faith he had whilst building
That malice or weather would forego
The temptation to topple it over
Tumbled all down in the snow.

It set me in mind of a Builder
Working with just mere flesh and bone
To put his Body together
When commonsense would leave it alone.

Each person’s uneven, irregular
No two are exactly the same
And yet in composing his Temple
He stamps each one with his name.

Without cement, or mortar
Only care in construction would do
Whenever your raising God’s household
Only love will serve as glue.

I slowly inspected the rock wall
And how large and small both alike
Had been piled apparently haphazard
Yet each bit rose up the same height.

I guess it’s a lesser miracle
Than the one more difficult to see
How a Builder joined us together
From now, ‘til eternity.

I decided to stop scrutinizing,
Criticizing its funny ole shape
And just celebrate the marvel
Of how the Rock repaired our landscape.

Feb. 1, 2009
Grafton, Vermont

DEPARTURE

The picture at the top is the famous portrait of Daniel Boone at the end of his life in Missouri painted by Chester Harding from Boston in 1819. The second picture is the famous one of Boone leading men through the Cumberland gap and Boone's Trace, the path he hacked through the wilderness to get to Kentucky. Notice no coonskin cap (a later invention of Hollywood and TV, if you remember Fess Parker). I have been enjoying reading Robert Morgan's (a Tar Heel alum)fantastic, thorough, and careful biography of Boone, simply entitled "Boone. A Biography" (Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books, 2008). I relate to ole Dan'el because we both lived for long period in N.C. and Kentucky. The book inspired the following....

DEPARTURE

Moving, departing, going on ahead
Quitting, exiting, leaving it for dead
Forward, motion, progress in a line
Known for the movement, what you’ve left behind.

Straight as, an arrow, now the border bound
Face like a flint set, never looking ‘round
Heading, for horizon, always gathering speed
Horse and a saddle, all the things you need.

Go west, frontiersman, search for better land
Survey, explore, compass in your hand
Scratch the itch, the urge, for going yet again
Never returning, where you once had been.

Facing the sunset, heading now due west
Get there by sundown, or just do your best
Camping out, sleeping rough, now a daily deed
Finding the bluegrass, settling with all speed.

Marksman, surveyor, friend of Indians too
Tar Heel, Kentuckian, knew just what to do.
Boon to humanity, and all those he met
A Genuine American, few have equaled yet.

Quaker, hunter, lover of the land
Mason, commander, rifle in his hand.
Trapper, trader, family man and then,
Pull up stakes, and do it all again.

Born in Penn’s woods, died a patriarch,
Missouri the last frontier, but bluegrass in his heart,
Many came after, without succeeding him
Ole Dan’el the original, shan’t be seen again.


Jan. 31 2009

Tales from Frostbite Falls-- Part Seven-- Windham Hill Inn

So as I have been saying its just me and the big dogs and a cat up here on top of the Green mountain above Grafton. It should make for a truly interesting Super Bowl Party-- "So what did you think of that last great catch by Fitzgerald Boo and Ben (the dogs' names)?" Response: "Woof" "How about You-- Clio (the cat on my lap?" "Purrrrrfect". (I think I'll sing 'Who Let the Dogs Out' about now).

Yesterday was a decent weather day so I went up to Rutland some 40 miles north to the Norman Rockwell Museum. I was not disappointed. It is the one which opened not long before he died (there is also a good one in Stockbridge Mass.). What is interesting is that he used local Vermonters (he lived for decades in Arlington Vt.) as his models, for his many drawings. I had no idea he had done so many Magazine covers, including famous Boy's Life ones (the Scout magazine I took when I was in Scouting). He did a bunch of Presidential portraits, and Astronaut portraits in the 60s-- some stunning ones of the moon landing Apollo days. He also did a rock album cover in 1968-- Al Kooper and Mike Bloomfield. I will post a bunch of pictures when I get home from the trip and can download them from the camera.

Last night I went to a truly magical place-- the Windham Hill Inn, one of the few 5 star Inns anywhere in the U.S., never mind New England. You can see a picture of it above complete with its current 40 inches of snow. In case you do not remember, this is really where Windham Hill Music got its start. Will Akerman was a handy man who actually helped rebuild the place and get it open for business in the 70s, and Windham Hill Music was born. This Inn is just above Townsend and one of Akerman's early recorded songs for his own label was the Townsend Shuffle. Windham Hill music featured the ethereal-- lots of echoing pianists (George Winston, Scott Cossu, Liz Story, and the more mainstream and still going Jim Brickman), and acoustic guitarists (the fantastic late lamented Michael Hedges, Akerman himself, Bela Fleck from Lexington Ky. and others), and some wonderful if quirky groups like Shadowfax (their The Odd get Even CD is terrific). The genre of the label was pure music, acoustic and nature music without artifice and lots of synthesizers in the age of over-sythensized and over disco-ed everything. Try their wonderful 4 Cd sampler or their 2 CD sampled called Sanctuary. You will not be disappointed if you need something to mellow you out.

Well the Inn has turn into a fancy shmancy B+B, and not cheap either. Their evening 3 course meal is $60 plus tax and tip. That does not count beverages and desserts. It was however a treat to celebrate the finishing of the Doxa book on worship as well as the two volumes of Indelible Image. What did I have-- I had a roasted mushroom cap with prosciutto in it (yum) a smoked duck and seafood (salmon, mussels, scallops etc) salad, and pork tenderloin on yummy black risotto and cabbage. It was excellent and the portions allowed for a doggy bag (and with 2 150 dogs hanging on me, I could use it. A good time was had by all. If you're going to buy a Windham Hill CD and you have to choose one, try Michael Hedges amazing live CD-- Live on the Double Planet. If you are a guitarist like me or just a music lover, its a treat.

Yours until the Vermont Maple Syrup stops dripping,

BW3

TWO NEW ENGLAND GREATS-- NORMAN ROCKWELL AND JOHN UPDIKE

Growing up my favorite magazine, other than sports was The Saturday Evening Post, for one reason. The amazing paintings and drawing of a true New England original--- Norman Rockell (1911-78). For decades Rockwell drew the covers for this magazine, and often they were bought just for the covers. Above you will see five of his famous religious paintings. I especially like the Easter Morning one. There is now a museum for Rockwell's work in Rutland (he used to live in Arlington, as well as several places in Massachusetts (Stockbridge), though he was born in NYC. Rockwell had a wry wit which comes through in so many of his paintings, and his new realism inspired many other artists, perhaps most obviously Andrew Wyeth.

I must also at this point report the very sad news of the passing of John Updike (1932-Jan. 27 2009) of Ipswich, Mass. this week. He was a remarkable writer early on for the New Yorker and then later in his many novels and short stories, mostly about New England. He was also a practicing Christian, a theme in various of his novels almost as frequently as the theme of sex. He won the Pulitzer twice for two of his famous Rabbit novels (Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest I believe). I've read most of them and they very accurately chronicle certain aspects of life in the 60s-80s. Readers of this blog may well remember the review of his exciting last novel--- The Terrorist. I learned a lot about writing from reading Updike. As a small tribute below I offer his famous poem on resurrection.

SEVEN STANZAS AT EASTER

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

MARTIN VS. BARTON ON HISTORICAL CRITICISM AND THE ISSUE OF MEANING

Two recent books have begun to cause a lot of stir in the guild of Biblical studies, one as an attempt to suggest a change in direction in seminary curriculum, the other more of an apologia for the nature and importance of historical criticism as a means of getting at the meaning of the Bible. The former of these is by a Yale (and former Duke) Professor of NT Dale B. Martin (Pedagogy of the Bible. An Analysis and Proposal, Louisville: Westminster/J. Knox, 2008), the latter by an Oxford Professor of OT John Barton (The Nature of Biblical Criticism, (Louisville: Westminster/J. Knox, 2007). Both are written by seasoned scholars whose previous writings have been well received. Martin tends to be more of an agent provocateur in some respects, Barton more of a defender of scholarly rigor and each book has its own merits and demerits. There is some overlap between the two books, but in some fundamental ways they are at odds with one another especially when it comes to the issue of ‘meaning’ which will be the focus of this critique and review. Martin is weary of the hegemony of the historical critical method as the method which is taught at seminaries and divinities schools as the fundamental tool for getting at the meaning of the Biblical text. He is of course right that there are other ways to read the Biblical text ranging from pre- or even anti-critical readings to what some now call post-critical readings of the text. But in his survey of American seminaries he came to the, for him, gloomy, conclusion that the hegemony of historical criticism has by no means been eclipsed or deposed, whatever his desideratum may be.

There is in fact a good reason for this in fact. Most scholars, and indeed most people of faith believe that in fact contextual study (the historical, literary, rhetorical, social etc. contexts) of the Bible is crucial to its understanding. As I like to put it—a text without a context is just a pretext for whatever you want it to mean. An overwhelming majority of them also believe that Biblical texts have meaning and it is important not to read our own meanings back into the text willy nilly.

Now this last assertion may seem non-controversial to you, but if so, you haven’t been listening to literary theorists and Derrida fans much in the last two or three decades. Nor have you realized or assessed the considerable impact of folk like Stanley Fish (late of Duke) on such discussions. But Martin has decidedly felt the impact of such discussions and when it comes to the issue of meaning, he has come to agree with Fish and others on a variety of subjects. The following are a series of quotations from his recent book:

Martin say “one of my favorite slogans [is]: Texts don’t have meaning; people mean with texts.” (p. 31)

“I am convinced that the emphasis on the differences between exegesis and eisegesis currently does more harm than good in teaching students about biblical interpretation. It reinforces a notion about texts and meaning that is false in itself….It reinforces the commonsensical but mistaken idea that texts simply have meaning as a property within themselves, that texts dispense their meaning themselves, or that texts may constrain interpretations of themselves.” (pp. 29-30).

“All readings of texts are in fact the making of meaning.” (p. 30).

“[T]extual meaning is something created by human beings practicing rather complicated socially learned skills we call ‘reading’. The most famous advocate of these ideas was Stanley Fish.’ (p. 31).

“[R]eaders make sense of texts; texts do not dispense their meaning, nor is meaning dependent on authorial intention.” (p. 32)

Now there are serious epistemic and semantic and indeed even theological reasons for rejecting this whole approach to the issue of meaning, but it will be well to say a couple of things about Stanley Fish and how he came to his conclusions. He is not in fact a historian or indeed a student of ancient historical texts, rather he is someone whose expertise is in modern literature, and perhaps to a lesser degree modern art. He is deeply indebted to folks like Foucault and Derrida and his agenda is in part to deconstruct the whole approach to reality known as modernism or the legacy of the Enlightenment, or even the scientific method which assumes that there is an objective world out there which can be known and distinguished from the knowing subject.

Martin in fact in his book makes the signal mistake of suggesting that abstract art or even more abstract poetry provides a clue as to how meaning happens and where it comes from--- namely from the eyes of the beholder or the reading subject (see. pp. 32-34). Now at one level he is right--- we are not blank blackboards on which texts write their meanings. No, to one degree or another we are active readers of texts and we bring our own knowledge, hopes, fears, expectations, faith or lack there of to the reading of the Biblical text (or any other text for that matter). We need to be aware of this fact, but it does not in fact provide the key to understand where the meaning of texts comes from. It is a factor to be taken into account, and indeed often to be corrected for. Why?

Well at one level it has to do with respect. I do not have the right to make the Biblical writers or Shakespeare or any other writer say whatever I please. I don’t have the right to read my own agendas into their texts. I did not produce them, and they are not mine. I cannot make a claim on them as if I was the one who encoded the meaning into them in the first place.

And this brings up a crucial point. The very reason I would be agreeing with John Barton and not Dale on various matters pertaining to meaning is because I want to know what those Biblical authors inspired by God are trying to tell me. I am not merely interested in finding out the multiple ways I can use the Bible as an inkblot to create my own meanings in life. In fact it is important to make a threefold distinction between: 1) meaning (something the text has); 2) significance (something the text may have for me, but which is grounded in the plain sense of the text if I am reading it right); 3) application, which is a further step removed.

Let’s listen now briefly to what John Barton says about these same matters.
Barton is a defender of the importance of what he calls Biblical criticism (read historical criticism, by which of course he does not mean being critical of the Bible, but rather reading it with a keen and discerning eye in order to get at its meaning). In quoting and following W.H. Schmidt he says:

"A text is an assertion of a human person, transmitted in writing—a person who can no longer defend himself against misunderstanding. Who can step forward as his advocate if not historical criticism? Criticism tries, as well as it is able, to preserve the rights of the text, and in its name to counter misinterpretations. Indeed, there is no other possible way of allowing a text, as the word of another person, the freedom to speak for itself.” (p. 72).

Barton then does not believe ancient texts like the Bible are like modern abstract art or poetry. They have a latent or inherent meaning, and we need tools to find out what it is--- one such important tool is historical criticism. Why? Barton goes on to explain…

“[B]iblical criticism has always taken for granted that the meaning a text has is connected with its origins in a particular historical and cultural setting—what some would call its ‘original’ sense… This is most obvious at the level of language. Words are not constant in their meaning across time. To take a simple example in the novels of Trollope we often find a female character saying that a male friend ‘made love to her the whole evening.’ It is crucial in understanding Trollope to realize that in his day this expression meant showing a romantic or sexual interest in someone, not having sexual intercourse with them. Otherwise, we would get a very distorted idea of what happened in Victorian drawing rooms.” (p. 80). In other words, every responsible interpreter of any text has a duty to take into account the lexical system and range of meanings that were in fact possible at that time, in that place, in that text. This is just as true of interpreting Biblical texts as it is in interpreting Trollope.

Barton goes on to give the excellent example of Ps. 102.12 where the psalmist speaks of God reigning ‘for ever’ (le’ olam).Later Jews and Christians have often taken the psalmist to be referring to the eternality of God, and his existence outside the constraints of time, however that is not what the psalmist had in mind. What he means is that God’s reign will know no end However long time endures, God will still be reigning. In other words the text speaks to God’s ongoing rule not his ontological nature or eternality. We might well entirely miss this if we did not do contextual study of the Psalm verse in question.

Barton goes on to make a further crucial point. The meaning of a text does NOT change across time while of course its interpretation may well do so. “It is not that the text changes its meaning, but that meaning is differently evaluated,, appropriated, or weighed.” (p. 84).. Meaning is historically conditioned. The object of studying the Bible in context is not to determine what it used to mean, but rather what it always has meant. For example, Barton takes the famous phrase ‘by the skin of my teeth’ found in Job. The fact that it is still a familiar idiomatic phrase today and is used differently than it was used in the book of Job does not after all determine the original or plain sense meaning of that text which its author gave it. “It is not that Job means A but it now means B; rather Job means A, but I am using the words that occur in Job to mean B.” (p. 84).

Exactly. The meaning of the text is one thing, its modern uses or the significances we find in it another. Barton points to a helpful distinction made by Umberto Eco between interpreting a text and using it, arguing that use is of course a free-for-all, but that to interpret one needs to attend to the cultural and linguistic background against which the work is written. (p. 85 n. 28). This is right and is a guiding principle for historical criticism.

Against Martin and his kin Barton says forthrightly “what the text meant is what it still means. The fact that it can be used as a vehicle for many other meanings does not undermine this.” (p. 86). Barton goes on to stress that the logically prior activity to preaching, teaching or applying the Bible in any way is finding out what it means. This is exactly right.

‘Meaning before application’ (p. 103) should be our watchword as he urges. “[E]xegesis and application must be separated in the interest of two freedoms: the freedom of the text from the concerns of the interpreter and the freedom of the interpreter to ask questions not envisioned by the text,” (p. 103).

Barton is also right to stress that not only do words only have meaning in contexts (consider for example the word ‘row’ which can be a verb or a noun depending on the context), but even more importantly one has to attend to the larger genre of literature in which a sentence or paragraph occurs. In other words, one needs to interpret any document, and especially the Bible carefully taking into account is literary genre.

The task of a Biblical scholar, says Barton, is to act as a tour guide of the text helping us see the parameters of what the text does or could mean within its original contexts, before assessing its applicability in our own contexts. “Exegete’s guided tours of the text will involve noticing many blooms that are not part of its literal content, but also being able to distinguish them from the weeds that come from their own imaginations.” (p. 116). Sometimes we need tour guides more than others, but in the case of the Bible we especially need them because of its sheer volume of use and familiarity. Let me illustrate the problem.

Forty years ago I was driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway in the beautiful N.C. mountains when the clutch blew out and as the Bible says, ‘my countenance fell” because of course there are no gas stations anywhere on the Blue Ridge. My friend Doug and I got a push off an exit ramp from another car, into a gas station, but alas, he was unable to fix the thing. We decided to hitch hike the three hours back to High Point, and then I would have to tell my father the bad news. So, we stuck out our thumbs, and pretty quickly a very elderly couple picked us up in a black 1948 Plymouth. My friend Doug (who is now a lawyer in N.C.) decided to make conversation with the driver. He asked what he thought of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon and all those beautiful pictures sent back of the revolving earth. The man’s reaction was instanteous—‘That’s all fake’ he said “Everyone knows the world is not round and does not revolve. That was just a liberal Hollywood trick.”
Doug, perhaps not recognizing invincible ignorance when he first saw, badgered the man--- “Why do you think that?” I kept whispering ‘Shut up Doug, we need this right to North Wilksboro.” The man’s answer was plain and simple---
“It says in the book of Revelations (you always know you are in trouble when someone calls the last book of the Bible Revelations plural) that the angels will stand on the four corners of the earth. Earth can’t be round if its got four corners, now can it?” The man took this to be invincible logic which settled the matter altogether.

What was wrong with the man’s reasoning? It was not that he took the Bible seriously. It was that he had made a major genre and category mistake in interpretation. He had taken a figurative utterance in an apocalyptic prophecy to be a literal cosmological description of the earth. In fact, by doing so, he had violated John’s intended meaning in that text. John was trying to say that the angels would come from all major points on the compass. He was not doing cosmology but suggesting comprehensive coverage. But of course our driver was innocent entirely of such learning about the genre and character of the book of Revelation, and therefore ironically, he violated the very meaning and spirit of the text all the while trying to uphold its truth! This often happens in fundamentalism.
No text deserves more respect or the absolute best efforts of the interpreter than the sacred text of the Bible. Its meaning makes a mark, indeed a claim on us, and can be life changing.

As I have argued in The Living Wrd of God we do not honor the Bible if we naively think we can just open it up and always understand it without serious study of it in its various contexts. That involves at least three major fallacies: 1) the assumption that modern and ancient cultures, modern and ancient languages, modern and ancient meanings are not different in any significant way; 2) it assumes that just because the Bible may be perspicuous or clear that it will therefore be clear to me without effort or study--- the Psalmist who wrote Psalm 119 knew this was false, and simply a lazy approach to God’s Word. ‘Study to find yourself approved' and don't forget you have a fallen intellect; 3) it assumes that just because I have the Holy Spirit in my life to help me understand God’s Word that I am obviously on the same wavelength and listening perfectly to the Spirit’s illumination. I don’t need any outside help.

What is interesting to me is that none of the Biblical writers thought this way. They knew study and good teachers were critical, and even after Easter study was crucial. Notice how Luke begins his Gospel by says he had to consult various of the eyewitnesses and original preachers of the Word to get the story of Jesus straight. I put it to you this way—if even the inspired writers of the NT knew they needed to do their homework to understand the Christ event and the Bible, it follows that so do we.

Biblical or Historical Criticism is not the enemy of a high view of Scripture, indeed it is a very useful aid in getting at the meaning of the Biblical text. And I agree with Barton that Job One is to find out—what the text says and means. Job Two is then to ask--- ‘In what sense is this meaning true?” Take again the example from above with the ‘flat lander’ and the book of Revelation. Angels on the four corners speaks a truth, but what sort of truth—is it meant to be a literal description of the shape of the earth? No, it is not but you would not know this unless you had studied early Jewish apocalyptic literature and were sensitive to its literary signals. Or take another example, When the Bible reports a particular person (say King David) telling a lie, in what sense is this report--- true? Not in the sense that he wasn’t lying, but rather in the sense that it gave an accurate or truthful report of the lie.

Job Three after Job One and Two is to assess the significance and possible application of the Biblical text for yourself, or your congregation etc. And of course sometimes ‘significance happens’, but I would stress that a significance of a text for me is not the same as the meaning of the text. I grow weary of the self-centered phrase ‘this is what the text means to me’. You are not the meaning maker of the text, nor do you have a right to decide what the text means for you. The text means what it always has meant. It is your job to understand it, embrace it, submit to it as a Word from God and seek to apply it. And no amount of anti-intellectualism can get you out of your obligation to study it contextually. But back to significance.

In August of 1979, my wife was put into Durham hospital three weeks before our first child was due, with elevated blood pressure. Now you have to realize that my wife is a biologist. She did not want the ‘knock em out and drag em out method of delivery’. She wanted ‘au naturel’ and so there was no little angst that came over her when she was told on August 13th they were going to have to induce her. Her problem was she knew as much about the dangers and biological processes once that drug went into her and the baby as the doctors did. On that evening I tried to cheer her up, but it was difficult because we were reading through the Bible together, and were stuck in the middle of the doom and gloom chapters of Ezekiel who was addressing his fellow exiles and trying to give them some hope. But in the midst of all that doom and gloom about coming judgment, there were these words we read that night--- “and I will multiply your kindred, and I will keep you safe, and you will come home soon”. Well, a light went on in my brain and I felt led to say—“Well honey, things are going to be o.k. That baby is going to come all by itself.” She looked incredulous and said “You really think so?” I said I did. I went home that night and simply paced the floor waiting for the call to come saying the baby was on the way. Sure enough, there was a knock on my door about 4, and in about six more hours, Christy was born.

Now I knew perfectly well that those verses in Ezekiel were not written as a prophecy about me and my wife. They were literally intended to tell the Israelites they would get back to Jerusalem one take and thrive once more. But through the serendipity of experience God used the text to show us how he was working in that situation, and so those verses took on a significance for us (not a new meaning, a significance) as God himself applied those words to our lives. And we are ever so glad he did! It helped us trust God and be ready for the coming of Christy.

There is much more I could say along these lines but let me sum up--- 1) Biblical texts have meanings; 2) we need help to understand them; 3) historical criticism is not the bogeyman, it is a good Sherlock Holmsian process that helps us understand the meaning of these texts; 4) we should not listen to those who suggest ‘meaning is in the eye of the behold’ or in the ‘act’ of the reader’, if by ‘meaning’ we mean the plain Biblical sense of the text, not what I would like to find in there; 5) historical criticism is in many ways the best hedge against misunderstanding and misinterpreting the text, and we should be glad for that if we care about the truth of the Word God, and desire to handle it prayerfully and carefully.

The Word of God is indeed like a two edge sword which cults both ways—you can either use it to cut people to ribbons, or to do the necessary surgery on them so their hearts will open and they will receive the Good News. LET THE READER UNDERSTAND THE INSPIRED MEANING OF THE BIBLICAL TEXT. It should be the goal of all who seek to interpret it.

THE NATURE OF TRUE LOVE

The thing about love, if it is the genuine article and not some pale imitation of it, is that when one is in love one becomes profoundly humbled by the whole experience. One's defects, which previously one had ignored or overlooked oir only sporadically attended to, now become glaringly obvious. Now the lover desperately wants to become his or her best self for the sake of the beloved. In addition to that quest, there is this profound sense of being unworthy-- unworthy of such unconditional love coming one's way, and so a sort of quiet desperation sets in that one is: 1) either dreaming, but does not want to wake up or; 2) one is going to wake up and discover one has lost the beloved. The thing about real love that comes from above is that it is profoundly self-sacrificial, all the while making one profoundly self-conscious and aware. It is as if one's senses have all been heightened or gone on full alert. Even the smallest gesture, the simplest touch, a fleeting smile, the most mundane words of encouragement become magnified into something almost epic or heroic. In Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet the advice of the Friar to the loving couple to "love moderately for long love doth so" falls entirely on deaf ears. Not even the dramatic metaphor of such intense love being like when gunpowder meets flame and so "the two kiss, and are consumed" does not ward them off.

But is this real love, or just 'infatuation' with another? If it is real love it is hard to imagine it happened very much prior to marriage in the Biblical cultures where marriages were arranged, dating and courting did not happen, and one was barely pubescent when one got engaged. Today of course we have just the opposite. People have extended periods of dating, courting, even living together, and still cannot make up their minds! Too often they think they are in love, when in fact they are just in heat and letting the hormones do the talking and walking.

We, with our impoverished English language have trouble distinguishing love from lust, love from like, love from mere physical attraction. The Greek by contrast used eros of the physical sort of attraction and activity, philos of brotherly or sisterly love, which was often seen as the deepest and most profound in antiquity (see e.g. the non-gay fraternal love of David and Jonathan), storge of family or clan love, and of course agape, which could be used of a variety of sorts of love, either divine or fraternal normally.

Of course one of the major problems in our culture is the mistaking of feelings for love. Obviously love and loving does involve feelings, but it is not defined or delimited by them. When my wife has a migraine headache and yet still pulls off making a wonderful dinner for me and guests, this is certainly 'love' but it does not describe how she was feeling just then. Feelings are notoriously bad guides to what is true, or even whether one is in love or not, not least because feelings are conditioned by: 1) the state of one's health; 2) circumstances of the moment; 3) how tired one is; 4) one's age; 5) the social conventions of one's culture; 6) whether or not one has had a normal upbringing or was abused, and this is only a brief list. Feelings are the icing on the cake, but when it comes to real love, they are by no means the cake. In fact, those who define love mainly on the basis of feelings ("the thrill is gone....."), take the cake! Below you will find a sermon I preached at the National Cathedral some time ago. Reflect on these things..... BW3

LOVE’S LABOR’S WON
( JOHN 15.9-17; 1 JOHN 5.1-5)
Preached at the National Cathedral May 21rst 2006

‘FEELINGS, NOTHING MORE THAN FEELINGS’

Our’s is an affective age. So much is this the case that even the best of counselors often begin their therapy sessions with the question---- ‘How do you feel about......?’ or ‘How does that make you feel?’ Feelings are assumed to be the touchstone, the talisman as it were, of what is really going on in a human life, what really matters. This is so, in spite of the fact that we all know that feelings can be tremendously deceptive.
In the earliest days of aviation in America, planes regularly crashed. One of the puzzles was why pilots, when they went into a cloud would often come out of it in a spin and then crash. One pilot who survived such a crash was interviewed by a major reporter and he explained that when he went into the cloud his inner ear, indeed all his inner feelings gave him the impression that the plane was not upright or level, and that he needed to bank to the right to be parallel to the ground once more. In fact this inner sense of his, this strong feeling deep inside him was all wrong, and it was precisely responding to this feeling which led him to bank in such a way that he went into a spin and crashed. Thereafter, altimeters and other gauges were installed in the planes so the pilots could fly even through clouds on a level plane without getting the urge to bank in some precipitous way leading to a crash. Human feelings, even profound ones, are often no good guides to what is true or what is good or even what is helpful.
Ah but what about the feeling we call love? Love is the subject of the majority of popular songs which may just prove we are love-lorn, or ‘lookin’ for love in all the wrong places’. Surely that love feeling is more true, a better barometer and guide to life? Sadly, it often is not so. We could all name persons who have spent, or misspent their lives following their feelings and their deep desire to be loved, and the result has been one train wreck of a relationship after another. In light of this, one has to ask---- is the Bible really commanding us to live our lives based on our feelings, even our deepest feelings? Even more profoundly, is Jesus really insisting we do so in one of our Scriptures for today? In fact, as we will now discover, he is not. Love in the Biblical sense, while it certainly involves feelings is nevertheless not all about feelings, indeed it is not primarily about feelings. And then too, the love which is being talked about here has a Christological shape, orientation, direction, and source. Jesus is the source, exemplar, director, and object of this love. It is not just any kind of love that is referred to here.

THE COMMAND TO LOVE
Have you noticed that in the Bible we are frequently commanded to love? It should have struck us as odd that love is commanded, if we are used to associating love with mere feelings. Jesus says that love of God and of others is the greatest commandment. He even commands us to love our enemies, which surely does not mean love them to death by killing them. But is he really ordering our feelings to march in lockstep in a particular direction? Have you ever said to your children---- “I demand that for the next three minutes you will feel happy and cheerful!” That’s rather like that wonderful starfish in ‘Finding Nemo’ commanding itself “Go to a happy place, go to a happy place, go to a happy place” while the aquarium is being thumped right where the starfish is attached by a mean little girl. If you have tried such an experiment of commanding others feelings or even your own doubtless you have discovered it is an exercise in futility not fertility. Feelings cannot be commanded. They come and they go and they are subject to the vicissitudes of life, affected and prompted by a thousand different factors— whether or not we are healthy, whether we are hungry, whether we are sleepy and a host of other factors.
So here is where I tell you that in the Bible love is normally an action word. It refers to a decision of the will that then leads to an action. Most often it refers to an activity, not a feeling at all. This is why for example in the Christian marriage ritual the bride and groom to be are asked when it comes to professing their love to say “I do” and “I do”, and “I will” and “I will”. They are not asked to say “I feel like it” and “I feel like it”. This should have given us a clue that love is not mainly about feelings, from a Biblical point of view. In fact in Jesus’ own words for this morning he tells us— “greater love has no one than he lay down his life for his friends”. That’s love in action, love as a self-sacrificial deed. There are of course lesser loves, but Jesus is not speaking of those in this text.
Too often we get real love mixed up with lust, or even just plain desire or loneliness. Young people often say “we’re in love” but alas all too often they are simply “in heat”. In fact the English lexicon is tremendously impoverished when it comes to love. Greek has no less than four or five different words for love— one for physical love (eros), one for family love (storge), one for brotherly or sisterly love (philadelphos), and one for divine love— agape. And the love that is being commanded in the NT is almost always ‘agape’. But now you may be saying— how in the world can Jesus command us to love as God loves? Its hard enough to love like the best of humans, how can we be commanded to love as God does? Isn’t that a bridge too far? Should we all be singing now the theme from Man of La Mancha— “To dream the impossible dream...” Is this command the stuff of fairy tales? The task becomes all the more daunting when we realize that God’s love for us is so vast.
There is an old hymn written by a man whose last name is Lehman. He was a man who lived before modern psychology and its medications, and seems to have been bi-polar or manic depressive. There were times of lucidity and times he would lose his grip on reality. Not surprisingly, living in the early 20th century he was institutionalized. Now the man was both a musician and a devout Christian. Despite his institutionalization he wrote some wonderful joyful hymns, and the most famous of which has a story behind it. The most memorable verse of this hymn was the last thing Mr. Lehman ever wrote, for it was found scrawled on the padded wall of his cell, in which he was found dead. It reads as follows:
“The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can tell; it goes beyond the highest star and reaches lowest hell…Could we with ink the ocean fill, and were the skies a parchment made, were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade, to write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry. Nor could the scroll contain the whole if stretched across the sky.” Should we then despair of ever loving like God loves, or as God has commanded us to love?


REAL LOVE, A GIFT FROM GOD
In fact the answer is no. St. Augustine gives us the clue when he says to God “give what you command Lord, and command whatsoever you will.” The capacity to make the decision of the will, to put love into motion, and even to make the ultimate sacrifice, the sacrifice of one’s life for others is in fact a gift from God. St. Paul puts it this way when he says that if anyone is in Christ “God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” (Rom. 5.5). So let us talk about God’s love for a moment.
Victor Furnish, one of the great NT scholars of our era has put the matter in this fashion— ‘God’s love is not like a heat-seeking missile which is triggered by something inherently attractive in the target, the object of love’. Indeed not, God loves us when we are unlovely, indeed in some respects seemingly unloveable. God loves us whether we love God back or not. God’s love is unconditional, in the sense that it is given freely, and not because of anything we have said or done or felt. Indeed, God’s love is often given in spite of what we have said or done or felt. It is pure grace— God’s unmerited favor, God’s undeserved, unearned benefit freely and lavishly poured out by God into our lives. The key then is that for human beings to love as God and Jesus have commanded us, they must first be open to receiving that love from God. Paul says it is a matter of believing in Jesus Christ as Lord and receiving the gift of love by means of God’s Spirit who comes to indwell the believer.
Ah ha, you may say— “I knew it---so there is a catch. I must first believe, before I can receive, I must first trust before I can have such love.” Its not really a catch though. God is not requiring of you some herculean effort or any sort of quid pro quo. Its just that you must unclinch your fists, and open your hands if you are to catch what he keeps throwing in your direction. No love has ever been received, even of the purely mortal sort without there first being some trust, some openness, some vulnerability involved. You cannot be loved unless you allow yourself to be loved, and that involves a modicum of trust. But oh what a wonderous thing it is when you allow yourself to be transformed by God’s love. Then indeed you are capable of even truly and totally self-sacrificial love. You want proof? I have time for just three brief examples ----- my wife Ann, Jim Elliot and Albrecht Durer.
My wife, unfortunately is afflicted with periodic migraine headaches, even the sort which leads to loss of vision for a while in one eye. When my wife has one of those headaches they are not accompanied by warm mushy feelings. But when she gets up and prepares a nice meal even in the midst of having such a headache, that, my friends, is love, even though she is feeling horrible. That is love in action, and in this case it is truly and freely given IN SPITE OF HOW SHE FEELS. It involves willing and doing, not, in this case warm mushy feelings.
Jim Elliot was a missionary to the Waodani Indians in South America. It was a dangerous undertaking. In fact on one furlough he was interviewed by a reporter who asked why he was dealing with such a violent tribe, especially since they seemed so hostile to him and his message. He replied “He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” He was talking about giving up his own life for these Indians, showing them the love of God in Christ, knowing that even if they took his mortal life, he could not lose the everlasting life God had given him as the ultimately gift of divine love. Shortly after offering this word of wisdom to the reporter, Jim Elliot was martyred by the Waodani Indians. Several decades later, and in fact only a couple of years ago at a Franklin Graham Crusade one of my good friends was present in Florida when one of the chiefs of the Auca tribe gave his testimony. He said “Formerly, I lived badly badly. But now I live for Jesus, for Jesus sent Jim, and he laid down his life for me. ‘Greater love hath no one, than he lay down his life....’
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Finally I must tell you a truly ultimate love story, the story of Albrecht and Albert Durer.

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a
family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on
the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith
by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any
other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their
seemingly hopeless condition, two of the elder children, Albrecht and
Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but
they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to
send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy. After many long
discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out
a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby
mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the
academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies,
in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either
with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won
the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years,
financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate
sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better
than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was
beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works. When the
young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive
dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After
a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht
rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast
to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled
Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now,
Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to
Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you.”
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where
Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head
from side to side while he sobbed and repeated over and over, “No… no
...no ...no.” Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He
glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his
hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go
to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the
mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed
at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in
my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much
less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No,
brother... for me it is too late.”
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of
masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors,
charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in
the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar
with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar
with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or
office. One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed,
Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms
together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful
drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened
their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The
Praying Hands.” These were the hands of genuine, painful, suffering love, the same sort of hands we see on the Christ with arms outstretched to the world while on the cross and words saying “Father forgive them they know not what they do.”
-----------------------------
You see, in the end Biblical love is all about action, not talk. When it talks about love its all about self-sacrifice not self-aggrandizement or self-fulfillment, though if you love in this sacrificial way one by-product is you indeed will be fulfilled, in fact you will be filled up to the full with God’s love, as God has an endless supply. In the end it’s all about love’s labor’s won, not lost. It is this sort of love which makes the world go round, and indeed makes life worth living. It is this sort of love which is both given and then commanded by God. And best of all, God long ago sent his one and only Son so that we might have love and have it in abundance. Jesus lived and died not merely to make real love possible, but to make it abundantly available to whosoever will believe on Him unto everlasting life.

If you ask what the heart of the Christian faith is the answer is beguilingly simple—it is the religion of the heart. It is all about God’s love for us in Christ which can so transform us that we become what we admire--- “God is love” says our text for this morning (notice it does not say “love is God”). But we too like Christ can become love in person, if we will allow ourselves to be filled with that divine love and so become incandescent in thought word, and deed.

AMEN

Tales from Frostbite Falls-- Part Six-- BLIZZARD!

There is snow, and then there is serious snow. I'm talkin' blizzard here (and not the kind available at Dairy Queen). Thank God for 4 wheel drive trucks is all I can say or else I would never have gotten home over the mountain from Townsend where I went to the dentist this morning.

When I awoke this morning, there had already been 4-5 inches of light snow, but by Noon we already had another 5-6 inches, and they are talking 14 today and another 6 tomorrow. Now where I come from, that would be seen as a whole winter's snow, the storm of the century. Around here in Grafton in the Green Mountains, not so much. They are not much impressed.... yet. So I thought I would give a handy dandy guide to be able to tell when you are or have had a blizzard.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE HAVING A BLIZZARD WHEN:

1) frozen beef is not just what is in the frig (see above)

2) the snowplows give up and go home

3) the dogs no longer want to go outside and chase the birds from the bird feeder

4) when the level of snow on top of your car is in fact taller than you (see above)

5) when all the schools in your part of Vermont are closed.

6) when the local grocery store decides it must close early.

7) when the heat runs constantly in the house.

8) when its easier to slide off your roof to get out of the house than to go out a downstairs door.

9) when old Joe, who is 88 says, "I've not seen one like this in a while"

10) when there is now more food in your fridge than there is left at the Village Store

11) when its already dark by 3 p.m. cause it's snowing so hard.

12) when your love for the beauty of the snow finally gives way to the realization that you have about four days of shoveling to do, just to get out of your house and driveway.

13) when there is not enough coffee in the world to keep you warm.

14) when the phone's go out.

15) when no one drives up or down your road for over 24 hours.

16) when the cabin fever gets so bad that even week old brussel sprouts and canned peas start looking good.

P.S. It's not that big of a deal to be snowed in, even if you lose power if you have good wood and kindling and a good fire place. You can still be warm, and eat, and read good books, and for a writer like myself, that's way more important than TV. But if I still have power tonight, I think I'll watch the new episode of LOST. If you are on top of a mountain and snowed in and there's no way out, it isn't much different than being on an island for a while. And maybe those Demon Deacons of Wake will beat those ole Blue Devils tonight as well :)

THE PRIORY

THE PRIORY

The icicles hung on the eaves outside
But the adams were gone on retreat
The caretaker said ‘only God is inside
And there’s nothing here you can eat’.

The chapel was silent, oppressively still
The cross hung above the enclosure
Hard benches on the nave’s narrow sides
And next to them more than one crozier.

Not a voice in the room, not a bird in the air
The winter wind outside kept blowing
The caretaker said ‘only God is inside’
But if so, why wasn’t he showing?

A widow quite wizened and left all alone
Entered as if on cat’s feet,
Slipping right past me and kneeling right down
She entreated while being discrete.

After time had slipped by, she quietly left
A sweet smile creased her old face
In a voice barely audible, pointing within
“Surely God’s inside this place’

Sun rose Easter morning, casting its pall
The mourners raced to the tomb
The stone was rolled back, no body within
And nothing relieved their gloom.

Yes the tomb it was empty, God didn’t abide
But the angels had a strange story
‘He’s left the building, so fear thee not’
But they fled, struck dumb by the glory.

Does absence of presence, or presence of absence
Really prove he rose and abides?
Or was it encounter with Jesus himself,
The outsider who now dwells inside?

The bells tolled twice, calling to prayer
The sky was Carolina blue
‘Inasmuch as he did it for the widow this day
He’ll do it again for you’.

I put on my jacket and braced for the cold,
The caretaker smiled as I passed,
“I told you that God only dwells inside
And I guess you believe me at last.”

Jan. 27th 2009 Weston Vermont

SERENITY

SERENITY
(at the Revolutionary War Cemetery)

The calm after the storm,
The clarity after reflection
The acceptance of unchangeable things
Like winter followed by spring.

Peace, in the face of war
Satisfaction, without more
The acceptance of frustrating things
Hard hearts, heads, truths.

Of this demanding demeanor
Francis did reassure
Irresistible, immovable stones
Are best left alone.

But wisdom to know the difference
Between terminal and temporary
Between aging and lack of condition
Between religion and superstition

Somewhere a song is playing
I barely can hear the tune
An anthem about a wholeness
Past understanding, more than just new.

A quiet quick resignation
That God know much better than I
How long to spin out life’s thread
A time for birth, and a time to die.

I see a star at its rising,
An orange moon just going down,
I count myself blessed just to see it
Though my father’s in the ground.

Far more than a sort of ceasing
Serenity is about releasing
Persons into his hands
Futures into his plans.

I hear a quiet whisper
Within my heart of hearts
And leave here with assurance
Of fresh fellowship, fresh starts.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Even men of iron will rust
And our metal will be tested
Does it read—‘in God we trust’?

BW3 Jan 24, 2009 (Grafton, Vermont)

TALES FROM FROSTBITE FALLS-- PART 5

O.K. so what do you do when its below 0 and you have cabin fever? Well, you get in the truck and head to other warm buildings where there is food and company. I did this twice in the last two days seeking out both terrestial and celestial food and company.

What you see above at the top is the Inn at Saxton's River and St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Chester Vt, both really warm places, but also really cool-- if you catch my drift. I went on Saturday night to the Inn for supper and absolutely was not disappointed. The locals had commended it to me, and they were right. After getting reacquainted with Mr. Adams Winter warmer, I then had some good ole New England Clam Chowder (to be pronounced CHOW-DUH) with bacon and potatoes in it which really hit the spot. Picture me by a warm Victorian fireplace in a nice big overstuffed chair overstuffing myself. The chowduh was followed by the main course which was bacon-wrapped scallops (a personal favorite). If you're coming to New England and you don't eat seafood you are missing the best of the native cuisine, and that's a fact. This was scrumptious and it came with another personal favorite from the old South-- sweet potatoe fries, cooked just right and light. Then this temptress of a waitress waved various earhly delights known as desserts in front of me, and since I felt I deserved my just desserts since I had spent the day slaving away over a hot laptop, I chose something I had not consumed in 20 years--- a hot fudge sundae. And there was no fudging with this sundae-- it was a delight. Feeling like a stuffed turkey thereafter, I waddled out to the truck and drove the seven miles back home to Grafton, where a cup of incredible Obsidian coffee awaited me (kudos to Caribou).

This morning when I awoke, it was naught minus 5 degrees but crystal clear blue sky and no wind. I figured this was coming last night when I notice a zillion stars out including a huge Venus or Mars or some such planet. Remember when you used to go camping away from the city lights, and you'd look up at night and see all of the heavenly host, instead just the bright ones you'd see in town? Well, up on the moutain overlooking Grafton is like that--- nearer my God to thee.

I was determined to go to church this morning, and St. Luke's Episcopal pastored by the rector the right Rev. H. Paul Brannock-Wanter is a splendid little Evangelical Episcopal Church where the Gospel is duly preached and the sacrament properly administered each Sunday. I was there with some 30 other souls who were huddling together trying not to be God's frozen people, and so singing lustily and praying fervently, and in general enjoying the time to be together in the Lord's presence. The sermon was based of course on the lectionary texts which included Jonah 3.1-5,10 and Mk. 1.14-20.

The lectionary is of course a good news and bad news thing. Sometimes there is an obvious connection between the texts for a given Sunday, sometimes not so much. But this Sunday there was an obvious connection as the minister made apparent in the theme of repentance-- Jonah preaching to Nineveh, a pagan city (perhaps the only time in the OT God really ordered a Jewish prophet to do this) and the call in Mk. 1 to repentance as the Kingdom was at hand.

I was struck by the way the service began. Rev. Paul admonished us all to be in holy silence before the Lord, and prepare our hearts for worship. This is as it should be, as I am writing in my new book on worship--- "let all mortal flesh keep silence, and ponder nothing earthly minded". There needs to be a sense of the sacred as we come into the Lord's presence and we should not do it haphazardly or ill-prepared.

As with all normal Episcopal services we got the full service service--- complete with liturgy, prayers, the creed, the sermon, four Scriptures, offering, lots of hymns (I only knew one of them), and the full Eucharist. It was an embarassment of riches, as they say. There was plenty to savor, and of course one especially came to savor the saviour who was present with us. I shall certainly go back here next Sunday. Sometime this week I hope as well to go and visit Weston Priory, a holy place tucked back in the hills near Weston, where prayers and praise, 'ora et labora' have been going on and going up to God for many years.

The story of St. Luke's is interesting. First built about 1868 after the Civil War it was built as a deliberate response to the rampantly growing and spreading Unitarianism in New England. Accordingly, this church emphasizes the Trinity both in its architecture and in its liturgy. In the sanctuary it has Trinitarian crosses and the big huge O's in the rafters as symbols of the eternal Trinity. It also has Trinitarian themes in its rose window and above the altar, and has a beautiful old Victorian organ with painted pipes. Unfortunately, it was too cold to meet in the sanctuary so instead we gathered in the basement below where it was wonderfully warm.

Remember the cry of the old prospectors as they explored the hills-- 'there's gold in them thar hills!" Well, it kind of feels like that here in the Green Mountains of Vermont. There is of course the stunning beauty of God's general revelation in creation, but there is also God's special revelation in the small gatherings of the saints here and there. But then, when you have villages of only 300 or so souls, its bound to be a small gathering of souls isn't it? And that is just fine, since Jesus said he would drop in 'wherever two or more are gathered...' You don't need to be in a mega-church to meet our Mega-God.

TALES FROM FROSTBITE FALLS-- PART 4: I'LL PACKA SWEATER

Yep that's an alpaca, as in alpaca sweater. There's an alpaca farmer here in Grafton, and Lord knows you need sweaters around here. I guess for the alpaca there isn't much difference between being in the mountains of Chile, or being here, where it is equally chilly, if you get my drift. The alpaca farm is just down Townsend Road from the Vermont Cheddar factory. They do know how to make some extra sharp cheddar which will flavor up your bland spaghetti quick!

Today was a goregeous day, getting all the way up to 20 (heat wave!!!) so I got in the truck, sans the dogs, and headed over the mountain to Chester-- a beautiful little village which kind of encapsulates various of the virtues of beautiful Vermont.

For one thing there are NO SHOPPING CENTERS AND NO MALLS--- HORRAY! This is surely a glimpse of heaven where there will be no such commercial enterprises at all. Vermonters in their little villages have steadfastly refused to let the Walmarts of the world come in and put all the Mom and Pop businesses out of business. Good for them. Coming to Vermont is like returning to my childhood in the Old South. Everyone knows everyone and supports each other. Joe the barber supports Sam the butcher, who supports Susie the baker, who support Larry the mechanic and so on. Instead of ANY fast food restuarants we have inns, and little cafes-- like the Moon Dog Cafe (a health food place, complete with dog mooning over his owner), or the Pizza Stone where they make oven-fired hand-tossed whatever topping pizza (did I mention Vermont cheddar), and of course a country story, a post office, a local hardware store. Not only are there are no shopping malls, or shopping mall sized churches. Instead you go for the Eucharist and Homily at a little Epsicopal Church called St. Johns, and meet all your local brothers and sisters.

For another thing Vermonters would like to keep the Green Mountains Green, so they are very environmentally conscious. The big article in the Chester paper this morning was about the carbon footprint contest in the local schools. The school that could reduce its carbon footprint the most, wins a $5,000 scholarship prize.
Good for them.

Despite what you may have heard about some New Englanders, these village folk tend to be quite friendly and chatty and helpful. I was in the Country Crafts store and when I told the lady I was writing a book on worship, she went on and on about how we need more of that, and pointed in the direction of the Priory. The atmosphere around here in the winter, unless your up in Killington or somewhere moguling down a snowy mountain is quite relaxed and friendly. The postmaster boxed up all my books for me this morning and helped me get a load sent off back home-- the box and the tape were free.

Then there is the issue of driving. On all Vermont roads, except the interstates or really major ones, the speed limit is 50--- and they mean business! They want you to mosey around these mountains, not careen around them and drive off a cliff. The pace of life is blissfully slower. When you ask when the mailman or the snowplow guy is coming the answer is the same one my grandfather used to give-- 'directly' which is rather like St. Mark's 'immediately' (euthus), which means 'after a while'.

Then there are the dogs. Vermonters love their animals, big or small. This morning I watched some huge Clydesdales in a snow pasture not at all bothered by the weather and munching on frozen apples. No worries mate. Cold, what cold?

I also love all the artisans and musicians, being one myself. Windham Hill Inn is nearby where all that traditional instruments magic begun with Will Akermann and Windham Hill Records. I love the smell of the leather shops, the sound of the Celtic music store, the feel of the alpaca sweaters, the taste of the cheddar cheese.

The danger of coming to Vermont for any extended period of time is you will complete unwind.... and not be able to wind yourself up again. Coming unwound however is so much better for you than coming unglued :) This is truly a right brained state if there ever was one.

Well, its back to writing, and speaking of writing, here is a little ditty from Robert Hass, a native Vermonter who is a poet and won the Pulitizer Prize---

"It must be a gift of evolution that humans
Can't sustain wonder. We'd never have have gotten up
From our knees if we could."

Here's to sustaining the wonder of Vermont. I wonder how long it will last.

BW3

TALL TALES FROM FROSTBITE FALLS

(Revolutionary War graveyard in Grafton Vt.)

I have just been informed by my friend from Turkey, Mel Chiftchi, that I was named businessman of the year, with numerous awards to follow. Here is the link you must check out---

http://www.themessagegroup.com.au/last-nights-news.php?title=20090118-BEN-WITHERINGTON_create.html


http://www.themessagegroup.com.au/last-nights-news.php?title=20090118-BEN-WITHERINGTON_create.html

I should have seen this coming since I was once named businessman of the year in Kentucky for running my coffee shop Solomon's Porch into debt. Turned out that Senator Tom Delay (later censured), had gotten me this award and invited me to the White House in order to ask me to make donations to his campaigns and the Republican National Committee. I didn't go, as it was a scam. But I am sure my Turkish friend Mel must have better information on me that Senator Delay, so watch this video without delay! BW3

TALES FROM FROSTBITE FALLS-- PART 3

Its snowing again, and it has zoomed up to a sweltering 12 degrees, with prospects of even reach 18 F. The picture above gives the general impression. It's a house just down the road from here. I awoke this morning to another 2 inches or so, and its not letting up at all. Looks like I won't make church over in Chester, but I am in a sanctuary of sorts anyway, praising my Maker for the beauty.


There's something peaceful about snow. Something gentle when it floats slowly down in huge flakes, each one different. There's something reassuring and pristine about snow, with its purity coming down from above. When you are snowed in, in a warm house, and drinking good coffee, well, you have a sense of tranquility and sanctuary. Its as though the world is a peace with you and you with the world, and nothing can harm you here. It led to the following reflection

PURITY

Purity came down from above
Silently, painfully slow
'Though your sins be as red as scarlet
I'll wash them white as snow'.

A gift of unfailing love
That chills one to the bone
Sinking in crevasses deep,
Not leaving unturned one stone.

A pure and pentrating cold
Wind piercing between soul and spirit
As if the entire person was needing
To experience, to feel, and to hear it.

Was needing a complete cleansing
A making of all things new
Not just an external makeover
But an internal spring-cleaning too.

I stood and watched the cold beauty
And felt it with some alarm
I wrapped my mantle around me
To shield myself from harm.

But a still small voice whispered
In the silence, I could barely hear
'Open up your heart and being
And let me wash you clear'

I feared I'd be God's frozen person
I feared an unalterable change
I feared no one would know me
I feared I'd be judged strange.

But the snow it just kept falling
An ensign of his constant grace
I unbuttoned my woolen jacket
The flakes fell full on my face.

Purity came down from above
And I chose to let it in
And that has made all the difference,
And yes, I would do it again.

BW3 Jan. 18th 2009 (Grafton, Vermont)