This is a scream! It's a satirical piece on the emergent folk.
After reading the glossary you might understand why another blogger refers to the emergent crowd as "emerjerks". No offense, but it's funny.
Dedicated to the Saint who dislodged all my screwy notions about the Apostolic era, and through whom I try to read any theological question or issue.
04 February 2008
16 January 2008
Not so "Golden Compass"
Well I'm buried under personal projects and activities. But I wanted to surface long enough to comment on Pullman's The Golden Compass & the movie adaptation. SPOILER ALERT!
I just finished reading the 1st two sections of Compass and I'm compelled to go no further. Here are my reasons. 1. I am too busy to do so. 2. I already know where the trilogy is going. 3. The movie adaptation did not follow the book closely enough. 4. No more movies are likely to be made in the trilogy.
Point 3 needs more information. I took my father to see it during Christmas (of all times) & was impressed with the animation. So was my father, except he was not impressed when he discovered that we weren't watching National Treasure. He had that movie in mind when I made the suggestion to watch Compass. I hope his congregation were not boycotting the movie! My bad, dad. I found the movie shamelessly grasping at the plot-line, rushing over details and transitions, & finally--did not finish the book. That's right! The movie only finished the 1st two parts of the book's material. The other big failure is that the movie adaptation seemed to mask the book's culprits (the Church) behind a flat & vague concept of grown-ups. Gotta hate those grown-ups! If the director did this to make a buck, it back-fired. The movie was too short compared to other recent hits (Narnia, LOTR) & only scored with its dose of big names and fancy animation. Where I come from we call that "lip-stick and rouge". That phrase means there is no substance so ya have to dress it up to appeal to a shallow audience.
I'm not saying the book is poorly written, though. I think it is a good read overall. But coursework and ministry are calling so I will put down the toys and pick up the tools.
Posts for a while will be my responses to material I'm reading for coursework. It will be philosophical material, but my treatment of it will be my own.
I just finished reading the 1st two sections of Compass and I'm compelled to go no further. Here are my reasons. 1. I am too busy to do so. 2. I already know where the trilogy is going. 3. The movie adaptation did not follow the book closely enough. 4. No more movies are likely to be made in the trilogy.
Point 3 needs more information. I took my father to see it during Christmas (of all times) & was impressed with the animation. So was my father, except he was not impressed when he discovered that we weren't watching National Treasure. He had that movie in mind when I made the suggestion to watch Compass. I hope his congregation were not boycotting the movie! My bad, dad. I found the movie shamelessly grasping at the plot-line, rushing over details and transitions, & finally--did not finish the book. That's right! The movie only finished the 1st two parts of the book's material. The other big failure is that the movie adaptation seemed to mask the book's culprits (the Church) behind a flat & vague concept of grown-ups. Gotta hate those grown-ups! If the director did this to make a buck, it back-fired. The movie was too short compared to other recent hits (Narnia, LOTR) & only scored with its dose of big names and fancy animation. Where I come from we call that "lip-stick and rouge". That phrase means there is no substance so ya have to dress it up to appeal to a shallow audience.
I'm not saying the book is poorly written, though. I think it is a good read overall. But coursework and ministry are calling so I will put down the toys and pick up the tools.
Posts for a while will be my responses to material I'm reading for coursework. It will be philosophical material, but my treatment of it will be my own.
02 January 2008
Epiphany
The Journey of the Magi
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For the journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins,
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death,
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For the journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins,
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death,
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
~T. S. Eliot
18 December 2007
1st Christmas
On the Infancy of Our Savior
Hail! blessed Virgin, full of heavenly grace,
Blest above all that sprang from human race,
Whose heaven-saluted womb brought forth in one
A blessed Savior and a blessed Son.
O what a ravishment 't had been to see
Thy little Savior perking on thy knee!
To see Him nuzzle in thy virgin breast,
His milk-white body all unclad, undressed;
To see thy busy fingers clothe and wrap
His spraddling limbs in thy indulgent lap;
To see His desperate eyes with childish grace
Smiling upon His smiling mother's face;
And when His forward strength began to bloom
To see Him diddle up and down the room.
O who would think so sweet a Babe as this
Should ere be slain by a false-hearted kiss?
Had I a rag, if sure Thy body wore it,
Pardon, sweet Babe, I think I should adore it;
Till then, O grant this boon, a boon far dearer:
The weed not being, I may adore the Wearer.
Blest above all that sprang from human race,
Whose heaven-saluted womb brought forth in one
A blessed Savior and a blessed Son.
O what a ravishment 't had been to see
Thy little Savior perking on thy knee!
To see Him nuzzle in thy virgin breast,
His milk-white body all unclad, undressed;
To see thy busy fingers clothe and wrap
His spraddling limbs in thy indulgent lap;
To see His desperate eyes with childish grace
Smiling upon His smiling mother's face;
And when His forward strength began to bloom
To see Him diddle up and down the room.
O who would think so sweet a Babe as this
Should ere be slain by a false-hearted kiss?
Had I a rag, if sure Thy body wore it,
Pardon, sweet Babe, I think I should adore it;
Till then, O grant this boon, a boon far dearer:
The weed not being, I may adore the Wearer.
~Francis Quarles
17 December 2007
All of a sudden, I dunno who I am!
An interesting dilemma, for sure. If you are Anglican, do you find a category for yourself here?
I'm torn between 1.c & 2.a
I don't think they are completely exclusive either.
I have absolutely no experience in any of the others, and I don't think I want any experience in the others.
I'm torn between 1.c & 2.a
I don't think they are completely exclusive either.
I have absolutely no experience in any of the others, and I don't think I want any experience in the others.
14 December 2007
Prince of Peace
Peace
MY soul, there is a country
MY soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skilful in the wars:
There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious Friend,
And—O my soul, awake!—
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure
But One who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
All skilful in the wars:
There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious Friend,
And—O my soul, awake!—
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure
But One who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
~Henry Vaughan
13 December 2007
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