Jon and Ben

I think my favorite class so far this semester is American Literature: beginnings to romanticism with Dr. Lundin. (I'm also taking Christianity and Fantasy with Dr. Jacobs, Systematic Theology with Dr. Johnson, and Physical Geology with Dr. Greenberg. They're good too.) We've started off with the Puritans, and while their writing isn't exactly known for being scintillating, I've really found it very interesting. Dr. Lundin has been great about providing a historical framework, so I'm getting a better understanding of the men and women who, I think, in some sense are my cultural and intellectual forebears. Dr. Lundin, being a good Presbyterian, is sympathetic to the Puritans, without being blinded to their rather over-realized eschatology and the irony of the unintended consequences of their convictions and actions. It's fascinating to study these characters who have so influenced American thought and literature.

We started with some William Bradford and John Winthrop and then moved on to Mary Rowlandson, Cotton Mather, and Jonathan Edwards. It was a strange jolt to one day read Edwards' Personal Narrative, Letter to Rev. Dr. Benjamin Colman (on the Great Awakening) and Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, and then turn to his deistic contemporary Ben Franklin.

Compare:

from Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God:

Your wickedness makes you as it were heavy as lead, and to tend downwards with great weight and pressure towards hell; and if God should let you go, you would immediately sink and swiftly descend and plunge into the bottomless gulf, and your healthy constitution, and your own care and prudence, and best contrivance, and all your righteousness, would have no more influence to uphold you and keep you out of hell, than a spider's web would have to stop a fallen rock. Were it not for the sovereign pleasure of God, the earth would not bear you one moment. . .

with some quotes from Franklin's Autobiography (a bestseller back in the day, incidentally):

It was about this time that I conceiv'd the bold and arduous Project of arriving at moral Perfection. . . .But I soon found I had undertaken a Task of more Difficulty than I had imagined. . . And conceiving God to be the Fountain of Wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to solicit his Assistance for obtaining it.

And this Mode [of not immediately contradicting people], which I at first put on, with some violence to natural Inclination, became at length so easy and so habitual to me, that perhaps for these Fifty Years past no one has ever heard a dogmatical Expression escape me.

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

Edwards didn't think much of Ben's righteousness. It's filthy rags.
But his autobiography is still pretty entertaining:

My Brother had in 1720 or 21, begun to print a Newspaper. . . I remember his being dissuaded by some of his Friends from the Undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one Newspaper being in their Judgment enough for America.

Hitherto I had stuck to my Resolution of not eating animal Food; and on this Occasion, I consider'd with my Master Tryon, the taking every Fish as a kind of unprovok'd Murder, since none of them had or ever could do us any Injury that might justify the Slaughter. All this seem'd very reasonable. But I had formerly been a great Lover of Fish, and when this came hot out of the Frying Pan, it smelt admirably well. I balanc'd some time between Principle and Inclination: till I recollected, that when the Fish were opened, I saw smaller Fish taken out of their Stomachs: Then, thought I, if you eat one another, I don't see why we mayn't eat you. So I din'd upon Cod very heartily and continu'd to eat with other People, returning only now and then occasionally to a vegetarian Diet. So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable Creature, since it enables one to find or make a Reason for everything one has a mind to do.

And there's more where that comes from if you can stomach the excessive Capitalization of every, single Noun.

Advise, please.

Why is "adviser" the spelling preferred over "advisor," when "advisory" is never spelled "advisery?" Aren't those words related?

3rd Grade-ish

Today in Wheaton's cafeteria there was a group of school children and teachers from Naperville Christian Academy eating at some round tables that had been reserved. I claimed a little table near them and watched while I lunched. I found myself trying to judge their age based on whether they looked old and big enough to raise Seeing Eye puppies. Could they be nine yet? It took me a little while to realize that's not how most people judge children's age.

If I'd seen my nephew Daniel recently, I could have compared them to him. My oldest nephew will be nine tomorrow! Here's a picture of him from Kate, back when he was eight and a half:

Better late than never, I hope?

For the Christianity and Fantasy class I'm taking with Dr. Jacobs, we're required to contribute at least weekly to a class blog. (This is a nice idea, but I find it majorly intimidating. And perhaps it's overload considering the class already requires one of the heaviest reading loads of any class at Wheaton, plus a couple long papers?) Anyway, the following is a post I wrote for that blog and decided re-post here in hopes that you too might offer some advice:

On the first day of class, Dr. Jacobs mentioned that one of the particular challenges of this class is thinking deeply and thoughtfully about familiar pieces of literature not commonly taught in English classes. I shrink from admitting it, but I am a lover of books who finds literary analysis a challenging and unnatural discipline, even of books more commonly taught in literature classes. This is an unfortunate position for a junior English major. Perhaps I am more guilty of using books for escapism than I'd care to admit.

With this in mind, I pulled my copy of How to Read a Book (which admittedly I have read little of) off the shelf. Mortimer Adler and Charles Van Doren have a couple chapters on how to read "imaginative literature" (and how not to). Their advice is to be sucked into the narrative, by "[participating] in its happenings" and letting the story move you and act on you. From there you should be able to "grasp the unity of the whole work" and how the various elements and details of the story contribute to the whole. An appreciation of the experience the book gives and an understanding of it are essential before attempting a critique of its beauty and truth.

I guess that's a bit helpful, but I still have uncertainties. How do you, fellow readers, allow yourself to be carried away by a good story and captivated by powerful, beautiful prose, yet still remain thoughtful and critical? What questions do you ask of the book? How do you determine what the unity of the book in fact is? Did Adler and Van Doren have good advice?

And just out of idle curiosity, does anyone else find it harder to be completely drawn into a book while at school than while on vacation?

Plan.

I'd like to take a moment to pay my disrespects to 18 month planners.

At the beginning of sophomore year, I splurged and purchased a large, classy 18 month moleskine planner good from July 2008 - December 2009. I loved it. It was uncluttered, with plenty of space for the weeks assignments on the left and the whole right page open for notes and lists and reminders and whatnot, and I put it to good use. The trouble is, come January the Wheaton bookstore isn't stocking planners (not nice ones, at least.) They give you funny looks if you ask.

Nothing daunted, I poked around online. Moleskine is racking up a profit. Their next 18 month planner is good for July 2009 - December 2010. Ridiculous. Apparently filling up an 18 month planner is a once in a lifetime experience. They are also selling planners from previous years . . . without even a reduced price. And you can buy a used planner for even money than an unused one. Huh?

But I went ahead and ordered a 12 month planner from them. I'd still rather spent twenty bucks on a planner I like and can use for a full year, than half that for a planner from the bookstore that's good only through August and that I don't like anyway.

January 22

Today is 37th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Last week I stopped in the chaplain's office to remind the chaplain's secretary of this and request that it be remembered in the chapel prayer that she writes. On Wednesday night, she called and left me a voice messaging saying that there was an opening in today's chapel schedule for me to speak for 2-3 minutes if I wanted it.

Gasp and clutching fear.
I accepted.

Here's what I said:

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.

* interminable silence *

Today is the 37th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. It was on January 22, 1973 that the Supreme Court voted to legalize abortion, deeming it a fundamental right and thereby removing the fundamental right to life of the unborn children in our nation. Since that day, abortions have cut short the lives of 50 million babies in the United States. 50 million is a hard number to wrap your mind around. Let me help. If you add up the populations of the following 25 states, they equal about 50 million: Kentucky, Oregon, Oklahoma, Wyoming, Iowa, Mississippi, Arkansas, Kansas, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico, West Virginia, Nebraska, Idaho, Maine, New Hampshire, Hawaii, Rhode Island, Montana, Delaware, South Dakota, Alaska, North Dakota, Vermont, Connecticut.

* interminable silence *

Abortion in America is a tragic and sobering reality. Nearly one in three children conceived is aborted. By age 40, 40% of women have had an abortion. Over 3800 abortions occur daily in the US, some of these within a few miles of this campus. These statistics shock and horrify us, but their purpose is not overwhelm you. Rather, this tragic situation is an opportunity for Christian witness, love, and service. Many Wheaton students are rightfully passionate about pursuing peace and justice. Historically the college has had a prophetic social witness, particularly in the fight against slavery. The fight against abortion is also an opportunity for Wheaton's continued Christian social witness. Please remember that striving for peace and justice means protecting the most indefensible and innocent - the unborn. There are many opportunities for us to pray, to partner with crisis pregnancy centers, to extend love and grace to women who have had abortions, to learn how to articulate and defend the human rights of the unborn. Please stop by the Voice for Life table in the beamer center today for more information.

Today is the anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Today I'm wearing black because I'm mourning the 50 million children who have died since Roe v. Wade. But I'm also mourning the American culture of death - that we live in a nation where life is not valued as it ought to be. I'm mourning the circumstances that make women think that there is no alternative to abortion. I'm mourning the fact that too many American Christians are failing to treasure and defend life as they ought. And I'm mourning with the countless women who are grieving for the aborted child they never got to hold and love. Mourn with me today, and let us pray and work towards the day when abortion will be unthinkable.

I spent many hours over the 24 hours after accepting the invitation figuring out what to say, and how to say it. It's easy to find myself paralyzed in front of an empty page - in this endeavor as much if not more than in any other. I'm afraid the pro-life movement has done much to antagonize itself among those who would its supporters by aggression, insensitivity, self-righteousness. Can I be forceful, honest, passionate, biblical without being antagonizing? I can only try.

What's odd to me is that the 3 minutes behind the podium and the forty-five minutes on the stage seem more comfortable to me than the rest of the afternoon. I walk around campus afterwards feeling visible, vulnerable, exposed. It's rather silly. So I am glad that I am now in the quiet seclusion of my bedroom, and that tomorrow I will return to a comfortable anonymity.

Psalm 139:13-16

Today is national Sanctity of
Human Life Day.

Miranda Miner

Fire Museum

Now, thrust fully into a new semester, Christmas break feels a distant memory. But yet I still have pictures from our week in Maryland break to post.

When Ruthie and JT were going through old brochures for historical sights and museums that Radu had collected over the last ten years, JT found a brochure for the Fire Museum of Maryland. He loves firemen (he even got firefighter rain boots for Christmas!) so we planned a trip. It was about an hour away, but we packed a lunch and drove out the Lutherville. The museum was well worth it.

The museum had equipment from centuries past, pictures, and information on the evolution of fire fighting technologies, techniques, developments, and all sorts of other interesting things. They even had an alarm office with a telegraph system which they demonstrated for us. There were plenty of knowledgeable firemen and historians walking around eager to answer questions and tell stories.

Fire "trucks" used to be very ornate with beautiful paintings on them and ornamentation.

For smaller fire fighting aficionados, the museum has a discovery room with costumes and a firetruck to be climbed over.

Good firemen are always in action. They do not allow themselves to be hampered by cumbersome equipment.

I don't really understand childrens' attention spans. They sometimes can't sit still while you read a story, other times they'll hang around perfectly content when it seems to me that there's not much to do. JT stayed in this part of the fire truck for a long time.

William takes after his auntie and loves animals. He stood and stared at this horse for minutes on end.

At this point, auntie was thinking about how nice a cup of tea would be, and JT was still thinking about the fires he had to fight.

Annapolis

We spent a few hours walking around Annapolis, enjoying lunch and tea at Reynolds Tavern which dates from the mid 18th century.

the courthouse

It was a cold day.

This cemetery is dedicated mainly to soldiers and sailors whose remains were never recovered.

Back again.

Wouldn't you want to go back to school if this is what you spent your vacation doing?

I jest. I spent a possibly inordinate amount of time on break sitting on the couch curled up with a book, not just washing the dishes. In fact, three people now seem to make a lot fewer dishes than I remember three people making when I cleaned up the kitchen every night in high school. On this night I had made an omelet (I have to look up that word every time I try to spell it) and banana bread. I'm now back in Wheaton preparing for the beginning of classes tomorrow.

I arrived back at my Saint and Elliot apartment the day after the 58th anniversary of the day that Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, Pete Fleming, Ed McCully, and Roger Youderian gave their lives up for the sake of the Gospel at the hands of the Wuaorani Indians. Elisabeth Elliot and Rachel Saint went back to minister among the Wuaroani, many of whom came to Christ in repentance and faith.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.” - Jim Elliot

Family

We spent nearly a week with the Zubas in Maryland over Christmas, and skyped with all the siblings that weren't with us.

Mary bought the boys matching traditional Ukrainian shirts. They didn't want to sit still for the picture, so Ruthie gave them drills to hold. Oh, boys.


We had a nice dinner with Annie and Kelsey Welty and his parents, remembering when we were altogether in British Columbia where Annie and Kelsey first met. Kelsey is my cousin Katie's brother-in-law. Their older son Gideon is J.T.'s best friend and worst enemy:


Wills likes to hang out with the older boys. Perhaps some day he'll have fun playing with Joelie too.

And here I am with my cousin's husband's brother's son.

I love his outfit.

Really Kipling this time

I came upon this charming bit of poetry of Kipling that perhaps comes right after How the Leopard Got His Spots.

I AM the Most Wise Baviaan, saying in most wise tones,
'Let us melt into the landscape--just us two by our lones.'
People have come--in a carriage--calling. But Mummy is there....
Yes, I can go if you take me--Nurse says she don't care.
Let's go up to the pig-sties and sit on the farmyard rails!
Let's say things to the bunnies, and watch 'em skitter their tails!
Let's--oh, anything, daddy, so long as it's you and me,
And going truly exploring, and not being in till tea!
Here's your boots (I've brought 'em), and here's your cap and stick,
And here's your pipe and tobacco. Oh, come along out of it --quick.

My favorite part is that even rugged explorers must be home in time for tea. I agree.

But they will never do it again, Best Beloved. They are quite contented as they are.

I always thought it was Rudyard Kipling who said a leopard couldn't change his spots nor an Ethiopian his skin. No, it was in the Bible first.

The God of Abraham Praise

In my absence the piano keys get dusty. This break I've been dusting them off with my fingertips as I play, trying to bring back some of my favorite pieces. Sometimes teachers say it's a good idea to leave a piece for a little while. If you come back to it a few days or weeks later, you may be better able to play it. But I guess they don't mean years. I'm still not able to play Bach's Invention No. 13 quite like Glenn Gould, optimistic though I am when I first sit down at the bench.

It's funny to me how the old mistakes come back easily - the rushing of certain passages, the abuse of rhythms, the wrong note that I remember working to correct months ago returns to plague me even though I thought I had conquered it. But with a little work, the good bits return. The Brahms Intermezzo I played for my jury freshman year will make a nice prelude tomorrow. And I'm gratified, because that's why I wanted to learn it in the first place.

I always enjoying flipping through the hymnal. This evening I played The God of Abraham Praise. I think it's one of my favorite hymns. The lyrics are great, and it's a pretty Jewish melody in a minor key. I might even like it sung at my funeral some day. The only trouble, I think, is that not enough people know it. That can be a bit awkward on the first few verses. But thankfully the God of Abraham Praise has lots of verses, though the red Trinity only has seven of them.

The God of Abraham praise, who reigns enthroned above;
Ancient of everlasting days, and God of Love;
Jehovah, great I AM! by earth and Heav’n confessed;
I bow and bless the sacred Name forever blessed.

The God of Abraham praise, at Whose supreme command
From earth I rise—and seek the joys at His right hand;
I all on earth forsake, its wisdom, fame, and power;
And Him my only Portion make, my Shield and Tower.

The God of Abraham praise, whose all sufficient grace
Shall guide me all my happy days, in all my ways.
He calls a worm His friend, He calls Himself my God!
And He shall save me to the end, thro’ Jesus’ blood.

He by Himself has sworn; I on His oath depend,
I shall, on eagle wings upborne, to Heav’n ascend.
I shall behold His face; I shall His power adore,
And sing the wonders of His grace forevermore.

Tho’ nature’s strength decay, and earth and hell withstand,
To Canaan’s bounds I urge my way, at His command.
The wat’ry deep I pass, with Jesus in my view;
And thro’ the howling wilderness my way pursue.

The goodly land I see, with peace and plenty bless’d;
A land of sacred liberty, and endless rest.
There milk and honey flow, and oil and wine abound,
And trees of life forever grow with mercy crowned.

There dwells the Lord our King, the Lord our righteousness,
Triumphant o’er the world and sin, the Prince of peace;
On Sion’s sacred height His kingdom still maintains,
And glorious with His saints in light forever reigns.

He keeps His own secure, He guards them by His side,
Arrays in garments, white and pure, His spotless bride:
With streams of sacred bliss, with groves of living joys—
With all the fruits of Paradise, He still supplies.

Before the great Three-One they all exulting stand;
And tell the wonders He hath done, through all their land:
The list’ning spheres attend, and swell the growing fame;
And sing, in songs which never end, the wondrous Name.

The God Who reigns on high the great archangels sing,
And “Holy, holy, holy!” cry, “Almighty King!
Who was, and is, the same, and evermore shall be:
Jehovah—Father—great I AM, we worship Thee!”

Before the Savior’s face the ransomed nations bow;
O’erwhelmed at His almighty grace, forever new:
He shows His prints of love—they kindle to a flame!
And sound thro’ all the worlds above the slaughtered Lamb.

The whole triumphant host give thanks to God on high;
“Hail, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” they ever cry.
Hail, Abraham’s God, and mine! (I join the heav’nly lays,)
All might and majesty are Thine, and endless praise.

A little more Steinbeck

I'm on a little John Steinbeck kick. So far as I can remember, my only previous exposure to him was on vacation in British Columbia many, many years ago. I was staying in my cousin Jennifer's room who loved horses. The walls were covered with pictures of horses cut out of magazines and a sizable space on her bookshelf was devoted to books on horses - The Black Stallion, Misty of Chincoteague, etc. Ruthie and I decided we wanted to read a book aloud together, and she picked Steinbeck's The Red Pony off the shelf because it was short and looked like a nice little horse story. It isn't.

I finished East of Eden in Maryland, and tonight I read The Moon is Down which is a short novel, mostly in dialogue, about an occupied country's resistance during a war.

Here's my favorite quote from that novel:
"He had a large, white, spraying mustache, and two smaller ones, one over each eye."

And since I'm reminiscing. . .

It's 2010 now.

New Years Eves in West Orange have been always been subdued. We sometimes turn on the television a few minutes before midnight to watch the ball drop in the city. I remember once running out to the front porch to see if we could see the ball in the sky. (We couldn't.) Even as a child, I don't remember ever thinking that I would rather be with the crowds in Times Square. I don't think I could party. Transitions leave me pensive. Marking the move to a new calendar year usually makes me quiet and contemplative, in the same way packing boxes and getting on airplanes do, so I have a hard time understanding the giddiness of the revelers in Times Square. But then, I'm not much good at giddy partying at any time.

Today I used facebook photos to indulge in a little reminiscence. These are both from freshman year. It would seem that I haven't aged much.

My suite-mates, Katelynn and Yesenia

Freshman year small group: Ruth, Megan, Susan (with Mary Kate), Lisa, Ashley, and me. Sophomore year Ruth wasn't with us, and we were joined with Grace and Sarah. We never managed to get a picture.

Psalm 90 is a good bit of scripture for contemplation at the beginning of a new year. It beats giddiness or broodiness:

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
or ever you had formed the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

You return man to dust and say, "Return, O children of man!"
For a thousand years in your sight
are but as yesterday when it is past,
or as a watch in the night.

You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream,
like grass that is renewed in the morning;
in the morning it flourishes and is renewed;
in the evening it fades and withers.

For we are brought to an end by your anger;
by your wrath we are dismayed.
You have set your iniquities before you,
our secret sins in the light of your presence.

For all our days pass away under your wrath;
we bring our years to an end like a sigh.
The years of our life are seventy,
or even by reason of strength eighty;
yet their span is but toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away.
Who considers the power of your anger,
and your wrath according to the fear of you?

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.
Return, O Lord! How long?
Have pity on us your servants!
Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
and for as many years as we have seen evil.
Let your work be shown to your servants,
and your glorious power to your children.
Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
and establish the work of your hands upon us;
yes, establish the work of our hands!