My buddy Jared is always going ff about the evils of Walmart. I can't say I blame him. A massive company with the almost single-handed ability to kill off the American worker once and for all. A detestable company, in almost every way imaginable.
And yet...and yet...I can sometimes be found roaming the local supercenter. It is the closest store to us, and also the cheapest, and it will have almost everything we want. The service is almost always poor, but it also has the best root-beer available (no, really). It is also the home to our local Papa Murphy's Pizza. The combination of these factors too often proves an irresistable temptation. Count me as a sheep, cared for the shepard of consumer culture!
Bryan
Friday, June 02, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Juan Cole on Da Vinci
Juan Cole's take on the Da Vinci code:
Bryan
Despite the scowls and titters of the critics, the DaVinci Code did $77 million at the box office in the US, better than Tom Cruise pulled in MI3. And the world-wide gross is already $224 million.
What in the world accounts for the popularity of this complicated and improbable story?
Dan Brown's narrative is about restoring the happy medium to contemporary Western modernity.
The novel has a binary structure. On the one hand you have the Church hierarchy, which is patriarchal, doctrinal, monotheistic, ascetic, and authoritarian. Those attributes are its normal pole, but it is open to corruption when they are over-emphasized. The first step toward over-emphasis is Opus Dei, which stands for a cult-like kind of monotheism in which individualism is much more surpressed than in the Church generally. But even Opus Dei is not so far from churchly normality. The villain of the movie is the man who corrupts the principles of Opus Dei itself, Bishop Manuel Aringarosa and his acolyte, Silas. They take self-denial in the direction of manic masochism, so that Silas routinely inflicts excruciating pain on himself in emulation of the crucifixion. And he has moved so far in the direction of giving up his individualism that he will do anything he is told by his master, including committing murder and torture. Inspector Bezu Fache, a representative of bourgeois order as a policeman, is likewise willing to put aside due process to obey his cultic master, violating individual rights and attempting to railroad a suspect, though he later has an ethical awakening.
Silas is, of course, a religious terrorist. With his monk robes, he inevitably nowadays evokes Bin Laden and al-Qaeda. Corruption of an authoritarian and partiarchal tradition leads in the direction of murder for the faith.
This pole of the film reflects the authoritarian side of modern institutions and culture. It isn't about Catholicism at all, or about Opus Dei. It is about the unchallengeable doctrines (norms) of society, and about the constant danger that ordinary obedience to the law can turn into a cultic exaltation of the law above principle and spirit. The Silas's of the US are the Ollie Norths and the Irv Lewis Libbys, apparatchiks who are willing to break any law and throw over any constitutional principle in order to serve their masters. (I.e. Cheney gets to play Aringosa in the Plame scandal). As for patriarchy, it is still dominant in much of American life, from the presidency to the CEOs in the boardroom to the US officer corps, and it is linked to the bands of brothers who form gangs and go overboard in imposing conformity. Joe Wilson had to be punished for challenging the orthodoxy that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction.
The other pole in the Brown narrative is the priory around the female descendants of Jesus through Mary Magdalene. This pole is about paganism, feminism, individualism, scientific rationality and sexual freedom. This pole, likewise, can become corrupt and antinomian. Thus, the pagan orgy or hieros gamos repulses Sophie Neveu and causes an almost fatal break between the Grail (herself) and the priory. Likewise, scientistic society has led her to become an unbeliever, so that the Grail itself is corrupted by doubt. Sir Leah Teabing is the symbol of this pole gone to unethical extremes. In his quest for the Grail, he is willing to deceive and to kill. He is Silas's structural analogue.
The "pagan" (in Brown's sense) temptation is a significant feature of contemporary American life-- which can be lived without much immediate penalty as libertine, selfish, and undisciplined. Untempered by spirituality and ethics, science can be soulles and led to e.g. eugenics experiments.
Neveu, like Fache, is in the police and a symbol of middle class order. But she is willing to put her ethics above her professional discipline. When she sees that Fache has become a cultist and lost his perspective, she defies him and helps the fugitive Professor Langdon. She stands for genuine justice rather than only procedural justice.
The film is popular because it isn't about Catholicism or France or some odd conspiracy theory centered on Mary Magdalene. It is popular because it is about the dilemmas of secular modernity.
As a film, it has its disappointments. The figure of Langdon does not actually speak like an academic. His talk at the Louvre is a sermon, not an analysis. His arguments with Teabing are jejune and the substance unbelievable. There is too much exposition, too much explaining and dwelling on the details of the whole gnostic conspiracy theory. To be good, the film would have had to be more allusive and less preachy, to show not tell.
Still, it did big box office, and is hitting a nerve. Critics should be interested in what that nerve is.
Bryan
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Tag Game
Four Jobs I've Had
1. Construction Grunt -- Christiansen Heating and Air Conditioning
2. Cashier Grunt -- Circle K
3. Lawn Mower Grunt (with Donald Nelson back in high dchool)
4. Research Grunt (BRCA1 study, medical ethics, UI, OSU)
Four Movies I never get sick of
1. Chariots of Fire
2. Pride and Prejudice (A&E version, although new version is good too)
3. The Matrix (to regain my manhood after Pride and Prejudice)
4. Twelve Angry Men (old version)
Four places I have lived
1. SLC -- Lakeside Dr.
2. SLC -- Roberta St.
3. Champaign, IL
4. Columbus, OH
Four TV shows I can't miss
1. The American Experience
2. The News Hour (Friday nights)
3. Frasier reruns
4. College basketball
Four favorite foods
I don't really belive in favorites. I rarely meet a food I don't like.
Four sites I visit daily
1. Washington Monthy
2. Crooked Timber
3. Talking Points Memo Cafe
4. Andrew Sullivan
Four places I'd rather be right now
1. Cameron Indoor
2. Tetons/Wind Rivers
3. Not grading exams
4. With family and friends
Bryan
1. Construction Grunt -- Christiansen Heating and Air Conditioning
2. Cashier Grunt -- Circle K
3. Lawn Mower Grunt (with Donald Nelson back in high dchool)
4. Research Grunt (BRCA1 study, medical ethics, UI, OSU)
Four Movies I never get sick of
1. Chariots of Fire
2. Pride and Prejudice (A&E version, although new version is good too)
3. The Matrix (to regain my manhood after Pride and Prejudice)
4. Twelve Angry Men (old version)
Four places I have lived
1. SLC -- Lakeside Dr.
2. SLC -- Roberta St.
3. Champaign, IL
4. Columbus, OH
Four TV shows I can't miss
1. The American Experience
2. The News Hour (Friday nights)
3. Frasier reruns
4. College basketball
Four favorite foods
I don't really belive in favorites. I rarely meet a food I don't like.
Four sites I visit daily
1. Washington Monthy
2. Crooked Timber
3. Talking Points Memo Cafe
4. Andrew Sullivan
Four places I'd rather be right now
1. Cameron Indoor
2. Tetons/Wind Rivers
3. Not grading exams
4. With family and friends
Bryan
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Why Warnicks Fail
I'm always on the look out for excuses to explain my future flop. Here is a good one, via Kevin Drum:
Bryan
ALPHABETICAL TYRANNY....Alex Tabarrok reports that alphabetical privilege is real — in the world of economics, anyway:A new paper (free, working version, Winter 06, JEP) demonstrates that...faculty members in top departments with surnames beginning with letters earlier in the alphabet are substantially more likely to be tenured, be fellows of the Econometrics Society, and even win Nobel prizes (let's see, Arrow, Buchanan Coase...hmmm). No such effects are found in psychology where the alphabetical norm is not followed.
The "alphabetical norm" is the rule that coauthors on a paper are listed alphabetically, which results in only alphabetically privileged authors getting citation credits (everyone else is "et al"). The paper demonstrating the effect was written by Liran Einav and some other guy.
Bryan
Spaz
The recent controversy about Tiger Wood's use of the word "spaz" has been interesting to me. I have always loved the word spaz. For one thing, most words with the letter z are cool. For another, it transports me back to the early days of my youth -- the 80s. Happy times, simple times, crazy times. Alas, I didn't know that, since its popularity in the 80s, it has become a word of disrepute. As a good liberal, I suppose I must surrender.
Bryan
Bryan
Random News from the Warnicks
I realize that we haven't used this blog to keep people informed much with our lives. I suppose that is largely because our lives are fairly banal and we, furthermore, are not much good at making the banal seem exciting. That is a deadly combination for personal blogging. (The dictionary definition of banal, I found, is "so lacking in originality as to be obvious and boring"; it is said to come from the French root meaning "compulsory," that is, "common to all" -- that about sums us up).
For what its worth here are some things we have been doing:
(1) We recently redecorated our kitchen. We repainted in a color called Snake River, which a light green, almost a mint blue. The kitchen, of course, is the worst room in a house to paint. We are fairly unskilled painters, too, so the kitchen now comes with various drops and splotches. It looks fairly good, though, especially after we finished it off with a nice Cezanne still life. Nothing like distorted fruit to spice up a kitchen.
(2) Our yard is actually starting to become a true back yard. We recently dug out a vegetable garden and purchased a swing set. Five minutes after Nora starting using the swing set, she had her first swing set accident. Lovely.
(3) Andrew recently rolled over! Or so Ellie claims, I have yet to verify. Andrew was also recently diagnosed with two ear infections. Hasn't hurt his weight, though. He recently weighed in at whopping 15 lbs. He is one of the biggest three-month-old babies I've ever seen.
Bryan
Sunday, March 19, 2006
An Exercise in Homiletics
A Sermon. Hilliard Ward Sacrament Meeting. March 12, 2006.
The Varieties of Revelatory Experience
Bryan
Today I would like to talk about the experiences of revelation. Personal revelation is one of the pillars of Mormon belief. From the beginning, Joseph Smith seemed eager that other people swim in the same river of revelation that he was immersed in. We can ask God questions, we still believe, and he will answer. I would like to begin by telling you about four different experiences with revelation.
January 1994: Before embarking from the MTC to the mission field, a boy goes to the Provo temple wanting to know for himself if the Church is true. In response, a thought comes to his mind as clearly as if the words had been spoken aloud by somebody else. The voice asks a question that is an answer, but also a challenge. “How could it be any other way?” the voice gently asks and, by so doing, invites a life-times of continuing engagement.
November 1996: A young returned missionary, who has rarely found within himself the courage to ask anyone out, finds himself turning to young lady sitting behind him and asking her on a date. The invitation occurs at precisely the right moment; for various reasons, it was the only time when the invitation could have come and been well-received. The young man concludes he was inspired. It was less of a prompting, though, than a possession. It was as if he were acting involuntarily, as if the Spirit had somehow taken over.
May 1999: A young college graduate is deciding where to go for graduate school. Upon visiting one campus, he has a strange, negative feeling and wonders if this is the Spirit telling him not to attend that university. However, all the reasons point to that campus as the best place to go. Unsure of what to make of the negative feeling, he decides to attend that university anyway and has, it seems, a wonderful graduate school experience. He concludes that those negative feelings were probably just discomfort with the traffic running through campus.
October 2004: Now older and married, a man watches a young friend of his. His friend has been praying for some time for some sort of verification that the church is true. No recognizable answer has come. Instead of answers, there is simply silence. The prayers fly off into the nothingness of a seemingly empty universe. His friend becomes disillusioned and slowly drifts into doubt and inactivity.
These are four very different sorts of experiences with revelation. In the first experience, I was given a clear answer, but it was an answer that invited further discussion (to me, the voice gave me the answer I needed at the time, but also seemed to say, “let’s talk about this more.”) In the second experience with my future wife, it was an involuntary command rather than a quiet suggestion. This sort of revelation raises the question how such possession is possible and how is it compatible with our freedom to act? In the third experience, an impression I thought was inspiration was really no such thing, at least I don’t think it was. Perhaps the inspiration in such a moment was to ignore how I was feeling rather than following my feelings. In the fourth incident, my friend was not given a promised revelation at a crucial moment in his life – what are we to make of such moments, when the heavens seem closed to us?
These experiences show that revelation is a very complex sort of thing. I admit that it is something that I don’t understand very well. John 3:8 says that the spirit “blowest where it listeth” and we can hardly tell from “where it cometh and whither it goeth” Indeed, it sometimes seems impossible to track its movements or comprehend its wanderings. The Spirit of Revelation is more something that I watch in wonder and awe as it moves upon the souls of human beings than being something that I understand. Although I do not claim to understand what revelation is very well, however, or even how to receive it, I do think I have some ideas about what revelation is not. So I have created a list of misconceptions or myths that are common about revelation.
Myth #1. Revelation of the Spirit always comes to us in the form of feelings.
We often break the world down into two separate spheres. We have our rational life and our emotional life. We often think that our emotional life is the domain of spirituality and religion. Our capacity to reason is limited, we often say, and truth comes from following your feelings. As I missionary, I always asked how people were feeling about what I taught them, and I urged them to follow their feelings as the surest guide to truth. I now think that this probably restricts our religious lives too much. It is true that the D&C 9:8 speaks of what appear to be emotional responses to revelation (the revelation comes as a “burning in bosom” it says). But it also tells us that messages will come to our minds, our intellect, as well as our emotions (D&C 6:23 talks of the Lord speaking peace to the mind of Oliver Cowdry, D&C 6:15 talks about the Lord enlightening the mind, D&C 8:2 tells about revelation coming to our minds and hearts) .
When we look at the experience of revelation in the Scriptures, people do not always describe in terms of a purely emotional response – visions are seen, voices speak, and people have ideas that attribute to the Lord. The Spirit may prick our hearts, to be sure, as in Acts 2:37. But the Spirit also works through the whole range of human experience. Consider the many different ways that the Golden Plates were revealed to the book of Mormon witnesses – three of them were shown the Plates by an angel and heard the voice of God, eight of them were allowed to handle and examine the Plates themselves without any divine encounter. One experience was based on being passively shown the Plates and hearing supernatural testimony; the other was tactile, more actively scientific and empirical. Both experiences were certainly a type of revelation from God, but they were very different sorts of experiences. There are many ways God may reveal his will to us: we may feel emotions, it appears, but we many also be given ideas and reasons as we actively try to figure stuff out. As I will discuss more in the end, we should be open to the many ways God speaks. In fact, remembering revelation as coming to both mind and heart is important because if we look to our feelings alone, it is hard to distinguish prejudice from promptings, or indigestion from inspiration.
Myth #2. There is always one right answer to life’s questions, and revelation will help us to find that one right answer.
The scriptures present us with several moments when there seems to be an open exchange of ideas between human beings and their Heavenly Father. In Genesis 18, we have Abraham bargaining with the Lord about the fate of Sodom. We Genesis 19:19 we find Lot bargaining with the Lord about where he will flee once Sodom is destroyed. In the Book of Ether, we have the brother of Jared proposing an idea to the Lord about how to provide light in his barges. In such moments, it seems as if the “right answer” is not fixed in God’s mind. The right answer does not sit there awaiting us to discover it. It seems that, as least some of the time, what constitutes the “right answer” about what we should do is cooperatively shaped as God listens to our ideas and brings us into the process of formulating action. God wants us, as it says in D&C 9:8 to study it out in our minds, to try to figure an answer for ourselves, and then he will guide us (“let’s see what you’ve got,” he seems to say). In this way, God makes us a part of his creative and redemptive work.
It is important to note that this cooperative work with God did not only happen in ancient times. The process by which Joseph Smith constructed the D&C is instructive on this point. In his wonderful recent biography of Joseph Smith, Richard M. Bushman writes:
In other words, the revelations in the D&C were co-constructions of God working through the mind of the prophet Joseph; they were not words graven in rock. I believe revelation is often like this, although I don’t know how much it is like this or when we can know when we should think of ourselves as co-participants in constructing the answers we get. It is an idea, though, that I find endlessly exciting.
Myth #3. Revelation is always personal.
When we use words “personal revelation” we tend to imply that revelation is a simple transaction between an individual and God. This ignores, however, the social aspect of revelation. Sometimes God answers us through the actions of others; sometimes the revelation comes not to any individual alone but to a group. For our most important revelations – like a Patriarchal blessing – God has arranged things so the revelation does not come to us personally and we are forced to rely on somebody else to help us. Sometimes it seems that one person has one piece of revelation, and somebody else has another piece. As we come together in discussion, the whole picture emerges. Richard Bushman writes about how Joseph Smith saw the work of church councils to be an important conduit of revleation:
In the case of a council, revelation is given to the group and not only to one person individually. We should not, therefore, let the idea of personal revelation blind us to the existence of revelation as a community phenomenon.
Myth #4 Everyone Experiences Revelation In Similar Ways
When we hear testimonies in Church, or when we read the scriptures, it sometimes seems that revelation should be an easy thing. Moroni 10 gives us a simple method to use to receive revelation about the Book of Mormon. For some people, it does seem to be easy as following a simple method. Such people speak of manifestations coming like a river barely contained by its banks. Joseph Smith, again, was one such person for whom the heavenly world was as constantly near as our world. For others, though, revelation is less like a continually flowing stream and more like a slowly dripping well in a thirsty desert. Such people cling to those drops of revelation that have seemed like clear manifestations of God’s guidance and love, and listen intently, hoping such manifestations come again soon. I sometimes feel like this is how it is with me. For others, clear divine manifestations don’t seem to come at all, such as the friend in my experience. Why God gives us such different experiences with revelation, I can’t say. But I don’t think it can always be attributed to lacking worthiness or sincerity. Nor do I think it is because they refuse to recognize an answer. After all, at the end of his life, even Christ on the cross felt forsaken by his Father and painfully understood what heavenly silence was like when he cried Eli , Eli lama Sabacthani (Matt 27:46). Perhaps for us, like Alma 7:12 says of Christ, there is something specific that we are to learn in those moments when the heavens are closed to us, something we are to learn about how we can best succor other people according to their infirmities. Maybe we are to learn how to help those who wander without God’s guidance, for example.
Another possibility is that, in such moments, we are forced to listen more closely to the many ways God can speak to his children and through his children. Perhaps our revelation is to come through involvement in art, music, or science. Perhaps it is to come through family testimonies that we are to learn to trust. Perhaps our revelation can come in the eyes of a child, or in the tears of a child, or in the embrace of the child. Perhaps our revelation is in the warm story of a grandparent or in the coldness of their skin on the day that they die. Perhaps it is in the forest in the summer twilight or in a book that opened our eyes – where once we were blind, we now see. Perhaps revelation is in memory – a memory of our mother’s knee or of an opportunity that we once squandered. Perhaps it is in finding a community to be a part of, or a community that is calling for our help. Perhaps.
March 2004: A young father is worried about his relationship with his infant daughter, who has clearly become a Mommy’s girl. That night he prays that he daughter can somehow feel how much he loves her. The next morning, his daughter awakes and asks, for the first time, for Daddy. The words of a song come to his mind: “When I walk through the shades of death, thy presence is my stay, One word from thy supporting breath, drives all my fears away.”
It is a myth that revelation will come to everybody in predictable ways, but it is not a myth that heavenly Father loves us and lovingly speaks in a thousand different languages of love. It is my prayer that we may have ears to hear this language.
The Varieties of Revelatory Experience
Bryan
Today I would like to talk about the experiences of revelation. Personal revelation is one of the pillars of Mormon belief. From the beginning, Joseph Smith seemed eager that other people swim in the same river of revelation that he was immersed in. We can ask God questions, we still believe, and he will answer. I would like to begin by telling you about four different experiences with revelation.
January 1994: Before embarking from the MTC to the mission field, a boy goes to the Provo temple wanting to know for himself if the Church is true. In response, a thought comes to his mind as clearly as if the words had been spoken aloud by somebody else. The voice asks a question that is an answer, but also a challenge. “How could it be any other way?” the voice gently asks and, by so doing, invites a life-times of continuing engagement.
November 1996: A young returned missionary, who has rarely found within himself the courage to ask anyone out, finds himself turning to young lady sitting behind him and asking her on a date. The invitation occurs at precisely the right moment; for various reasons, it was the only time when the invitation could have come and been well-received. The young man concludes he was inspired. It was less of a prompting, though, than a possession. It was as if he were acting involuntarily, as if the Spirit had somehow taken over.
May 1999: A young college graduate is deciding where to go for graduate school. Upon visiting one campus, he has a strange, negative feeling and wonders if this is the Spirit telling him not to attend that university. However, all the reasons point to that campus as the best place to go. Unsure of what to make of the negative feeling, he decides to attend that university anyway and has, it seems, a wonderful graduate school experience. He concludes that those negative feelings were probably just discomfort with the traffic running through campus.
October 2004: Now older and married, a man watches a young friend of his. His friend has been praying for some time for some sort of verification that the church is true. No recognizable answer has come. Instead of answers, there is simply silence. The prayers fly off into the nothingness of a seemingly empty universe. His friend becomes disillusioned and slowly drifts into doubt and inactivity.
These are four very different sorts of experiences with revelation. In the first experience, I was given a clear answer, but it was an answer that invited further discussion (to me, the voice gave me the answer I needed at the time, but also seemed to say, “let’s talk about this more.”) In the second experience with my future wife, it was an involuntary command rather than a quiet suggestion. This sort of revelation raises the question how such possession is possible and how is it compatible with our freedom to act? In the third experience, an impression I thought was inspiration was really no such thing, at least I don’t think it was. Perhaps the inspiration in such a moment was to ignore how I was feeling rather than following my feelings. In the fourth incident, my friend was not given a promised revelation at a crucial moment in his life – what are we to make of such moments, when the heavens seem closed to us?
These experiences show that revelation is a very complex sort of thing. I admit that it is something that I don’t understand very well. John 3:8 says that the spirit “blowest where it listeth” and we can hardly tell from “where it cometh and whither it goeth” Indeed, it sometimes seems impossible to track its movements or comprehend its wanderings. The Spirit of Revelation is more something that I watch in wonder and awe as it moves upon the souls of human beings than being something that I understand. Although I do not claim to understand what revelation is very well, however, or even how to receive it, I do think I have some ideas about what revelation is not. So I have created a list of misconceptions or myths that are common about revelation.
Myth #1. Revelation of the Spirit always comes to us in the form of feelings.
We often break the world down into two separate spheres. We have our rational life and our emotional life. We often think that our emotional life is the domain of spirituality and religion. Our capacity to reason is limited, we often say, and truth comes from following your feelings. As I missionary, I always asked how people were feeling about what I taught them, and I urged them to follow their feelings as the surest guide to truth. I now think that this probably restricts our religious lives too much. It is true that the D&C 9:8 speaks of what appear to be emotional responses to revelation (the revelation comes as a “burning in bosom” it says). But it also tells us that messages will come to our minds, our intellect, as well as our emotions (D&C 6:23 talks of the Lord speaking peace to the mind of Oliver Cowdry, D&C 6:15 talks about the Lord enlightening the mind, D&C 8:2 tells about revelation coming to our minds and hearts) .
When we look at the experience of revelation in the Scriptures, people do not always describe in terms of a purely emotional response – visions are seen, voices speak, and people have ideas that attribute to the Lord. The Spirit may prick our hearts, to be sure, as in Acts 2:37. But the Spirit also works through the whole range of human experience. Consider the many different ways that the Golden Plates were revealed to the book of Mormon witnesses – three of them were shown the Plates by an angel and heard the voice of God, eight of them were allowed to handle and examine the Plates themselves without any divine encounter. One experience was based on being passively shown the Plates and hearing supernatural testimony; the other was tactile, more actively scientific and empirical. Both experiences were certainly a type of revelation from God, but they were very different sorts of experiences. There are many ways God may reveal his will to us: we may feel emotions, it appears, but we many also be given ideas and reasons as we actively try to figure stuff out. As I will discuss more in the end, we should be open to the many ways God speaks. In fact, remembering revelation as coming to both mind and heart is important because if we look to our feelings alone, it is hard to distinguish prejudice from promptings, or indigestion from inspiration.
Myth #2. There is always one right answer to life’s questions, and revelation will help us to find that one right answer.
The scriptures present us with several moments when there seems to be an open exchange of ideas between human beings and their Heavenly Father. In Genesis 18, we have Abraham bargaining with the Lord about the fate of Sodom. We Genesis 19:19 we find Lot bargaining with the Lord about where he will flee once Sodom is destroyed. In the Book of Ether, we have the brother of Jared proposing an idea to the Lord about how to provide light in his barges. In such moments, it seems as if the “right answer” is not fixed in God’s mind. The right answer does not sit there awaiting us to discover it. It seems that, as least some of the time, what constitutes the “right answer” about what we should do is cooperatively shaped as God listens to our ideas and brings us into the process of formulating action. God wants us, as it says in D&C 9:8 to study it out in our minds, to try to figure an answer for ourselves, and then he will guide us (“let’s see what you’ve got,” he seems to say). In this way, God makes us a part of his creative and redemptive work.
It is important to note that this cooperative work with God did not only happen in ancient times. The process by which Joseph Smith constructed the D&C is instructive on this point. In his wonderful recent biography of Joseph Smith, Richard M. Bushman writes:
The editing process uncovered Joseph [unique] assumptions about the nature of revealed words. He never considered the wording infallible. God’s language stood in an indefinite relationship to the human language coming through the prophet….Recognizing the pliabily of the revealed words, Joseph freely edited the revelations by the spirit, making emendations with each new edition. He thought of his revelations as imprinted on his mind, not graven in stone. With each edition, he patched pieces together and altered the wordings to clarify meaning. They words were both his and God’s. (2005, p. 174)
In other words, the revelations in the D&C were co-constructions of God working through the mind of the prophet Joseph; they were not words graven in rock. I believe revelation is often like this, although I don’t know how much it is like this or when we can know when we should think of ourselves as co-participants in constructing the answers we get. It is an idea, though, that I find endlessly exciting.
Myth #3. Revelation is always personal.
When we use words “personal revelation” we tend to imply that revelation is a simple transaction between an individual and God. This ignores, however, the social aspect of revelation. Sometimes God answers us through the actions of others; sometimes the revelation comes not to any individual alone but to a group. For our most important revelations – like a Patriarchal blessing – God has arranged things so the revelation does not come to us personally and we are forced to rely on somebody else to help us. Sometimes it seems that one person has one piece of revelation, and somebody else has another piece. As we come together in discussion, the whole picture emerges. Richard Bushman writes about how Joseph Smith saw the work of church councils to be an important conduit of revleation:
After the organization of the Twelve apostles, the frequency of canonical revelations dropped precipitously. The commandments to particular people, included among the revelations in the early years, were omitted from later compilations. Instead, Joseph’s history was filled with the minutes of the Twelve Apostle’ meetings as if they had become the source of inspiration. The Acts of the Apostles from the New Testament -- a history of their activities – became the pattern for revelation rather than the visions of Moses on Sinai. …By putting the work of councils on the same plan as his own revelations, Joseph set a precedent for inspiration other than his own: revelation through a council.
In the case of a council, revelation is given to the group and not only to one person individually. We should not, therefore, let the idea of personal revelation blind us to the existence of revelation as a community phenomenon.
Myth #4 Everyone Experiences Revelation In Similar Ways
When we hear testimonies in Church, or when we read the scriptures, it sometimes seems that revelation should be an easy thing. Moroni 10 gives us a simple method to use to receive revelation about the Book of Mormon. For some people, it does seem to be easy as following a simple method. Such people speak of manifestations coming like a river barely contained by its banks. Joseph Smith, again, was one such person for whom the heavenly world was as constantly near as our world. For others, though, revelation is less like a continually flowing stream and more like a slowly dripping well in a thirsty desert. Such people cling to those drops of revelation that have seemed like clear manifestations of God’s guidance and love, and listen intently, hoping such manifestations come again soon. I sometimes feel like this is how it is with me. For others, clear divine manifestations don’t seem to come at all, such as the friend in my experience. Why God gives us such different experiences with revelation, I can’t say. But I don’t think it can always be attributed to lacking worthiness or sincerity. Nor do I think it is because they refuse to recognize an answer. After all, at the end of his life, even Christ on the cross felt forsaken by his Father and painfully understood what heavenly silence was like when he cried Eli , Eli lama Sabacthani (Matt 27:46). Perhaps for us, like Alma 7:12 says of Christ, there is something specific that we are to learn in those moments when the heavens are closed to us, something we are to learn about how we can best succor other people according to their infirmities. Maybe we are to learn how to help those who wander without God’s guidance, for example.
Another possibility is that, in such moments, we are forced to listen more closely to the many ways God can speak to his children and through his children. Perhaps our revelation is to come through involvement in art, music, or science. Perhaps it is to come through family testimonies that we are to learn to trust. Perhaps our revelation can come in the eyes of a child, or in the tears of a child, or in the embrace of the child. Perhaps our revelation is in the warm story of a grandparent or in the coldness of their skin on the day that they die. Perhaps it is in the forest in the summer twilight or in a book that opened our eyes – where once we were blind, we now see. Perhaps revelation is in memory – a memory of our mother’s knee or of an opportunity that we once squandered. Perhaps it is in finding a community to be a part of, or a community that is calling for our help. Perhaps.
March 2004: A young father is worried about his relationship with his infant daughter, who has clearly become a Mommy’s girl. That night he prays that he daughter can somehow feel how much he loves her. The next morning, his daughter awakes and asks, for the first time, for Daddy. The words of a song come to his mind: “When I walk through the shades of death, thy presence is my stay, One word from thy supporting breath, drives all my fears away.”
It is a myth that revelation will come to everybody in predictable ways, but it is not a myth that heavenly Father loves us and lovingly speaks in a thousand different languages of love. It is my prayer that we may have ears to hear this language.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Nice or Kind
I’m starting to realize that there’s a big difference between being nice and being kind. While the two may be manifest in similar types of actions, the distinction lies in the thought behind the actions. Nice has an element of artifice to it. Someone described as extremely nice might actually be considered phony or simply over-the-top in their friendliness. But you can never be too kind. Kindness has a genuineness and unmistakable sincerity about it. Kind is what I want to be.
Recently I learned that someone I just met doesn’t like me. Friends familiar with the situation console me that this person has undeniable issues that cloud the person’s ability to respond normally to others. Add to this the fact that the person doesn’t really know me—has had only a handful of experiences with me, in fact—and it is absolutely clear to everyone but me that I should disregard the animosity and move on. But it bothers me. First it bothers me that the person disliked me immediately. Do I make such a bad first impression? Then the reason the person gives others for not liking me is disturbing: I am too happy. Too happy? Huh?
I’ve agonized over the issue (obviously) and critiqued into the ground every interaction I’ve ever had with the person. Is happiness a problem? Do I smile too much? Am I too enthusiastic? Did I try a little too hard to make the person like me? And I’ve concluded that it all harks back to this issue: the difference between nice and kind.
I think what I’ve been to this person since the moment we met is nice. I’ve smiled big, complimented, inquired about the person’s life and interests, and overall assumed a chumminess and familiarity that could be nothing but artificial under the circumstances. After all, I hardly know the person. I’ve been relentlessly friendly despite unspoken but clearly perceived messages from the person and from others that friendliness might not be welcome. I believed myself the exception—niceness from me would be welcome, other just weren’t trying hard enough.
Well, then came the reality check: an outright rejection of me and my accursed friendliness. After a lot of reflection this is the only way I can wrap my mind around the response. The person is prickly and expects to be treated warily. Someone like me barreling in with my battering ram of niceness, trying to move through the thorny exterior is not only trespassing, but bound to get jabbed. So I got jabbed. I hope I’ll gain some wisdom from the experience.
Here’s what I’ve gotten so far. Don’t be too nice. A nice person exudes a certain impenetrable joviality and self-satisfaction that feels condescending from the receiving end. Someone who is nice to you doesn’t necessarily know you or like you. Niceness is centered on the needs of the person giving it and disregards the condition of the receiver. Niceness is impersonal.
Be kind instead. Kindess is more subdued. It is built on mutual experience; where experience is lacking, it is founded on empathy. Kindness requires knowing, understanding, and accepting. Kindness ponders both the heart and the situation of the receiver; the giver is only a conduit through whom the love of God can flow. Kindness is deeply personal. Kindness has love behind it.
I may have lost my chance to befriend this person who is so obviously in need of friends. I hope not. But I have learned for the future that where my sometimes superficial (though well-intentioned) niceness is unwelcome, kindness will likely never be rejected.
Ellie
Recently I learned that someone I just met doesn’t like me. Friends familiar with the situation console me that this person has undeniable issues that cloud the person’s ability to respond normally to others. Add to this the fact that the person doesn’t really know me—has had only a handful of experiences with me, in fact—and it is absolutely clear to everyone but me that I should disregard the animosity and move on. But it bothers me. First it bothers me that the person disliked me immediately. Do I make such a bad first impression? Then the reason the person gives others for not liking me is disturbing: I am too happy. Too happy? Huh?
I’ve agonized over the issue (obviously) and critiqued into the ground every interaction I’ve ever had with the person. Is happiness a problem? Do I smile too much? Am I too enthusiastic? Did I try a little too hard to make the person like me? And I’ve concluded that it all harks back to this issue: the difference between nice and kind.
I think what I’ve been to this person since the moment we met is nice. I’ve smiled big, complimented, inquired about the person’s life and interests, and overall assumed a chumminess and familiarity that could be nothing but artificial under the circumstances. After all, I hardly know the person. I’ve been relentlessly friendly despite unspoken but clearly perceived messages from the person and from others that friendliness might not be welcome. I believed myself the exception—niceness from me would be welcome, other just weren’t trying hard enough.
Well, then came the reality check: an outright rejection of me and my accursed friendliness. After a lot of reflection this is the only way I can wrap my mind around the response. The person is prickly and expects to be treated warily. Someone like me barreling in with my battering ram of niceness, trying to move through the thorny exterior is not only trespassing, but bound to get jabbed. So I got jabbed. I hope I’ll gain some wisdom from the experience.
Here’s what I’ve gotten so far. Don’t be too nice. A nice person exudes a certain impenetrable joviality and self-satisfaction that feels condescending from the receiving end. Someone who is nice to you doesn’t necessarily know you or like you. Niceness is centered on the needs of the person giving it and disregards the condition of the receiver. Niceness is impersonal.
Be kind instead. Kindess is more subdued. It is built on mutual experience; where experience is lacking, it is founded on empathy. Kindness requires knowing, understanding, and accepting. Kindness ponders both the heart and the situation of the receiver; the giver is only a conduit through whom the love of God can flow. Kindness is deeply personal. Kindness has love behind it.
I may have lost my chance to befriend this person who is so obviously in need of friends. I hope not. But I have learned for the future that where my sometimes superficial (though well-intentioned) niceness is unwelcome, kindness will likely never be rejected.
Ellie
Monday, February 20, 2006
The Life of an Introvert
Sometimes, you just come along a quote that sums up your experience perfectly. Here is one that spoke to me, via Kevin Drum.
Bryan
I marvel at [my extrovert friend] who can always somehow turn the conversation right over effortlessly and keep it going even when what he says is not necessarily profound or interesting. What he comes up with is perfectly tuned to the sense and flow of the conversation. But it's not words that are particularly intended to convey ideas or mean things. It's words that socialize — that simply continue the conversation. It's chit-chat. I have no gift for that. I have to think about what to say next, and sometimes I can't think fast enough and end up saying something stupid. Or sometimes I just come up dry and the conversation kind of ends for while until I can think of another topic.
This is why it's work for me. It takes positive cognition on my part. I think that's probably a core introvert characteristic that you and I have in common and which can probably be distinguished from shyness per se — that small talk takes conscious effort and is very hard work. There's nothing small about small talk if you're an introvert.
Bryan
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Emergency Rooms -- Hell on Earth
Over the past 8 months, Ellie and I have been to the emergency room 3 times. All three visits were caused by Nora. The first time, Nora scratched Ellie in the retina and we had to get her eye examined. The second time, Nora fell off the couch and hit her head on the coffee table (3 stiches). And just recently, Nora was apparently trying to climb up her closet, fell down, and nearly bit through her lip (3 stiches).
As we were waiting to be seen for the most recent accident, Ellie and I concluded that emergency rooms were hell on earth. It took us five hours to get in and out, which is actually fairly good compared to horror stories others have told us. The waiting in emergency rooms is interminable, the staff often uphelpful, and the cost astronomical.
Some observations:
1. Your wait time in an emergency room has little to do with how busy it seems. We once were pleased to find an empty emergency room, only to find that we still had to wait for several hours. We’ve also been repeatedly put on the “fast track,” which still entails a wait of several hours. (The “slow track” apparently is an all day experience.)
2. Ever notice how hardly anyone else in an emergency room appears to have an emergency? When we’ve gone, Ellie either had her eye bandaged or we’ve brought in a bloody and crying child. But everyone else in the waiting room has always seemed just fine. There were in our recent visit a few people who looked tired and a guy who was limping, but other that they hardly looked like they had emergencies. I’m sure all these people problems of some sort, but they never seem that way.
3. The staff never appears to be in any hurry. I’ve seen the doctors and nurses that were “caring” for us often just sitting in their offices or chatting with colleagues in the hallway, as we twiddled our thumbs waiting to be visited.
4. The division of labor is ludicrous. The attending physician can only do certain jobs apparently. The same with the residents, nurses, and nurses aides. We waited forever to get a cotton ball anesthetic taped to Nora’s lip. When it finally came to the person who was supposed to do that job, she didn’t know what she needed to do and she had to ask the nurse who then consulted the doctor. Why couldn’t the freaking doctor have simply taped on the cotton ball? Or at least have given me the stuff and gotten out of my way! Sheez.
When people say we Americans have got the greatest health care system in the world, I just think of crap like this.
Venting over.
Bryan
As we were waiting to be seen for the most recent accident, Ellie and I concluded that emergency rooms were hell on earth. It took us five hours to get in and out, which is actually fairly good compared to horror stories others have told us. The waiting in emergency rooms is interminable, the staff often uphelpful, and the cost astronomical.
Some observations:
1. Your wait time in an emergency room has little to do with how busy it seems. We once were pleased to find an empty emergency room, only to find that we still had to wait for several hours. We’ve also been repeatedly put on the “fast track,” which still entails a wait of several hours. (The “slow track” apparently is an all day experience.)
2. Ever notice how hardly anyone else in an emergency room appears to have an emergency? When we’ve gone, Ellie either had her eye bandaged or we’ve brought in a bloody and crying child. But everyone else in the waiting room has always seemed just fine. There were in our recent visit a few people who looked tired and a guy who was limping, but other that they hardly looked like they had emergencies. I’m sure all these people problems of some sort, but they never seem that way.
3. The staff never appears to be in any hurry. I’ve seen the doctors and nurses that were “caring” for us often just sitting in their offices or chatting with colleagues in the hallway, as we twiddled our thumbs waiting to be visited.
4. The division of labor is ludicrous. The attending physician can only do certain jobs apparently. The same with the residents, nurses, and nurses aides. We waited forever to get a cotton ball anesthetic taped to Nora’s lip. When it finally came to the person who was supposed to do that job, she didn’t know what she needed to do and she had to ask the nurse who then consulted the doctor. Why couldn’t the freaking doctor have simply taped on the cotton ball? Or at least have given me the stuff and gotten out of my way! Sheez.
When people say we Americans have got the greatest health care system in the world, I just think of crap like this.
Venting over.
Bryan
New Dinosaur
So, Nora has been really interested in dinosaurs lately. She knows the names of all the major varieties. Recently, I was discussing with Ellie my "Philosophy of Education" course. Nora overheard our conversation and thought "philosophy" was the name of dinosaur, which she called the "philoso-raptor."
Heck, maybe such a dinosaur did exist. After all, some dinosaurs may have become reflective about their existence. They probably didn't last long though. Poor guys.
Bryan
Heck, maybe such a dinosaur did exist. After all, some dinosaurs may have become reflective about their existence. They probably didn't last long though. Poor guys.
Bryan
U2: Questions and Redemption
Throughout their "musical journey," U2 challenges the listener with a tension between the beauty of divine promises and the ugly realities human beings confront and inflict upon one another. In their early song, “October,” we are presented with the image of an autumn tree, stripped bare of life, bracing against the oncoming winter. The tree is immediately contrasted it with the glorious idea of an eternal, unchanging being who transcends death and winters (“Kingdoms rise / and kingdoms fall / but You go on, and on”). Much later, in his song “Peace of Earth,” Bono contrasts the Christmas promise of peace with ugly realities of human history: “Jesus this song you wrote / The words are sticking in my throat / Peace on Earth / Hear it every Christmas time / But hope and history won’t rhyme / So what’s it worth? / This Peace of Earth?”
Within such a framework of glorious, but seemingly forever deferred promises of redemption, U2 seems to suggest that questioning can be an act of faith. Thus, their song “Wake up dead man” becomes a simultaneous act of affirmation and questioning: “Jesus / I’m waiting here boss / I know you’re looking out for us / but maybe your hands aren’t free.” Taken to an extreme, this attitude culminates in the rather sympathetic portrayal of Judas Iscariot in U2’s masterpiece song, “Until the End of the World.” Judas seems to say to his betrayed Lord: “In my dream I was drowning sorrows / But my sorrows they learned to swim … / In waves of regret, wave of joy / I reached out for the one I tried to destroy / You, you said you’d wait until the end of the world.” Judas, acknowledging guilt, reaches out to someone who, thankfully, has deferred final judgment into the future. The eternally deferred redemption allows for an eternally possible repentance – if only we can bring ourselves to do it.
The spiritual elevation of questions, confusion, and doubt, however, is matched by an equally strong celebration of divine promises. U2, follow up their questioning refrain of “Peace on Earth” with a gentle ballad called “Grace.” In this song, Grace, personified as a divine female force, quietly works to clean up the messes of human life: “What once was hurt / What once was friction / What left the mark / No longer stings / Because Grace makes beauty / Out of ugly things.”
So, how does one navigate a theology that simultaneous celebrates divine promises with one that recognizes (as we must recognize) that the fulfillment of such promises is often delayed or absent? Bono’s answer is simply to wait, to seek, and to persist. “If you walk away, I will follow,” Bono proclaims, betraying an attitude persistent, even stubbornness, in awaiting a forever-not-yet-arrival of a redeeming Messiah. Even if you still haven’t found what you’re looking for, there is spirituality in the quest itself.
The latest album sums up the spirituality of questioning, the acknowledgement of forever deferred redemption, and the value of persistent waiting. In the last song, “Yahweh,” Bono calls out for help in transforming himself into something better (“Take these hands / Teach them what to carry”), and then slurs the divine name to sound very much like a repeated chant of “Yeah I’ll wait.”
Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before the Child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?
Within such a framework of glorious, but seemingly forever deferred promises of redemption, U2 seems to suggest that questioning can be an act of faith. Thus, their song “Wake up dead man” becomes a simultaneous act of affirmation and questioning: “Jesus / I’m waiting here boss / I know you’re looking out for us / but maybe your hands aren’t free.” Taken to an extreme, this attitude culminates in the rather sympathetic portrayal of Judas Iscariot in U2’s masterpiece song, “Until the End of the World.” Judas seems to say to his betrayed Lord: “In my dream I was drowning sorrows / But my sorrows they learned to swim … / In waves of regret, wave of joy / I reached out for the one I tried to destroy / You, you said you’d wait until the end of the world.” Judas, acknowledging guilt, reaches out to someone who, thankfully, has deferred final judgment into the future. The eternally deferred redemption allows for an eternally possible repentance – if only we can bring ourselves to do it.
The spiritual elevation of questions, confusion, and doubt, however, is matched by an equally strong celebration of divine promises. U2, follow up their questioning refrain of “Peace on Earth” with a gentle ballad called “Grace.” In this song, Grace, personified as a divine female force, quietly works to clean up the messes of human life: “What once was hurt / What once was friction / What left the mark / No longer stings / Because Grace makes beauty / Out of ugly things.”
So, how does one navigate a theology that simultaneous celebrates divine promises with one that recognizes (as we must recognize) that the fulfillment of such promises is often delayed or absent? Bono’s answer is simply to wait, to seek, and to persist. “If you walk away, I will follow,” Bono proclaims, betraying an attitude persistent, even stubbornness, in awaiting a forever-not-yet-arrival of a redeeming Messiah. Even if you still haven’t found what you’re looking for, there is spirituality in the quest itself.
The latest album sums up the spirituality of questioning, the acknowledgement of forever deferred redemption, and the value of persistent waiting. In the last song, “Yahweh,” Bono calls out for help in transforming himself into something better (“Take these hands / Teach them what to carry”), and then slurs the divine name to sound very much like a repeated chant of “Yeah I’ll wait.”
Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before the Child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?
Monday, January 30, 2006
Behind the Curtain
I have now been on the other side of the student/faculty divide for about four months. I am continually amazed at how unorganized higher education can be. At least in the circles I swim in, organizational tasks are the last thing anyone wants to do – time is better spent with students, reading, or writing. I certainly didn’t become a professor to ruminate over bureaucratic minutia, and nobody else did either. This does breed some surprising ways of doing things. Or perhaps shocking is a better word.
When I was applying to graduate schools, for example, I obsessed over my “statement of purpose.” This is a document that explains an applicant's future plans and research interests. I had this picture of graduate student selection committees poring over every word of my statement, ready to reject me at the slightest hint of naivety. I wrote it and rewrote it, taking hours of my time (and Ellie’s time, too). In the first meeting where the graduate admissions were discussed here at OSU, however, I was interested to find out that hardly anyone had even glanced at the application materials, let alone studied them with any care. I certainly hadn’t. The process simply consisted of a quick check of the “numbers” and a quick skimming of the statement of purpose, if even that. And all this was done by only a few members of the committee. (The letters of recommendation seem to be joke that no one really takes seriously -- they all seem to say the same thing). These applications, which many applicants had obsessed over for hours, were given only 30 seconds consideration. And remember these can be life changing decisions!
When I was applying to graduate schools, for example, I obsessed over my “statement of purpose.” This is a document that explains an applicant's future plans and research interests. I had this picture of graduate student selection committees poring over every word of my statement, ready to reject me at the slightest hint of naivety. I wrote it and rewrote it, taking hours of my time (and Ellie’s time, too). In the first meeting where the graduate admissions were discussed here at OSU, however, I was interested to find out that hardly anyone had even glanced at the application materials, let alone studied them with any care. I certainly hadn’t. The process simply consisted of a quick check of the “numbers” and a quick skimming of the statement of purpose, if even that. And all this was done by only a few members of the committee. (The letters of recommendation seem to be joke that no one really takes seriously -- they all seem to say the same thing). These applications, which many applicants had obsessed over for hours, were given only 30 seconds consideration. And remember these can be life changing decisions!
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Judas Iscariot: A bad rap?
An interesting article about Judas Isacriot. Apparently, the NT evidence that he delibertly "betrayed" Jesus is quite scanty.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Goodbye, Omnipotence
It’s happened. I knew it would someday, and yet it’s come on so slowly I almost didn’t notice it. My child has developed a mind of her own.
I’ve bragged to friends and relatives about how sweet and obedient my daughter is, basically since she was born. Whenever I left her with others for a while, I came back invariably to reports of how good she’d been, how well she’d played with other children, how she knew the answers to all the questions.
But she’s had a lot of upheaval in her life this past year—a new home, new state, new friends, new nursery classes, new baby—and somehow amid these changes, my perfect little girl has turned into a terror. Or maybe she’s just become an average child.
I saw the change in her eyes a few days ago when I asked her to do something, I don’t even remember what it was, something trivial like put on her coat or turn off the TV. She looked straight at me and said, “No.” Now, I’m not claiming that she’d never said no before. She did, and fairly frequently. The difference, as I said, was in her eyes. Somehow mirrored back in those baby blues was her clear understanding that she really didn’t have to do what I asked. In that moment, she had gained power: I knew she had it; she knew she had it; she knew I knew she had it.
It’s unsettling—almost horrifying, really—to realize that she knows she has the power to choose. I guess choosing is what life’s all about, and I just must come to grips with it. But it opens up whole new, frightening possibilities I hadn’t really considered. She might choose to do things that hurt herself or her family or others. She might choose to run away or reject what we teach her. She might choose badly.
Up till now, it’s been easy for me to see her as an extension of myself. I’ve just assumed she’ll be like me and choose things that I would choose for her. My beliefs seem naïve and comical, looking back on them, but as she is my first child, they have existed unchallenged up to this point.
So now, I suppose she and I must negotiate the boundaries of this new relationship. We both know now that I’m not omnipotent. I sure miss the illusion.
Ellie
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