Is Riverbend (Baghdad Burning) still alive?

The blog Baghdad Burning has been silent since early August. It provided the most eloquent window into the life of Iraq's Sunni arabs, humanizing a people who otherwise seem so far away, and who the media might portray as so unlike the every day people you would meet here. Through her eyes, you could see the everyday sameness of Iraqi life to our own - a world of affectionate neighbours, kindly uncles and cousins. But you can't help but grieve for her as her world degraded into the worst of Dante's hells, as uncles, friends, and other aquaintances were killed.

And now she herself has been quiet for so long. I can only pray she is alive and somehow surviving all of this.

Paris in space

Paris Hilton, otherwise known as that person who is famous for being famous, apparently plans to pay $200,000 to Richard Branson in order to be sent into space.

The thought occurs to me... if the rest of us raise $200,000, I wonder if we could pay Mr. Branson to leave her in space? ;-)

Irina's law school inspired musings

A brief editorial note: this wasn't meant to be a post at all, but a comment. It disappeared on me last night, when I made a comment, and reappeared here as a post this morning. At any rate, since it is here, I've edited it to make more sense as a blog post.

The original post is here:

http://sicat222.blogspot.com/2006/09/bloody-murder.html

Deuteronomy 19 is a fascinating exploration of how people of this long ago time developed a different sensibility regarding manslaughter. It recognizes both the lack of intent of the perpretrator, and the righteous anger of the victims family and friends. Although we respond to distinctive kinds of killings very differently today, you have to admire Deuteronomy's great subtlety as a quasi-legal text.

Many have speculated that Deuteronomy is pseudepigraphically from Moses, and is actually mostly the (inspired of course) writing of King Josiah in the middle iron age. If that is so, it is a book that shows the King of Judah to be Godly, progressive, and humane for the otherwise barbaric world he lived in - surrounded by unjust and harsh kingdoms such as Babylon.

Clapton

We went to see Clapton tonight. I will always remember this as one of the highlights of my life. Robert Cray opened for him, and then played with him on "Old Love." The last time I saw too guitarists this good on the same bill was Dire Straits and Stevie Ray Vaughan in 1985; but they didn't play together.

They reproduced several songs from Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs almost perfectly - maybe even better than the originals.Some highlights - he hit the perfect tender note on "Wonderful Tonight", and of course the piano break at the end of Layla. And a great version of "Nobody knows you when you're down and out." It was all highlight really. Mind blowing.

When I was a boy, I had maybe five musical heroes. I've seen three now. Two were Hendrix and the Beatles, which are not possible... so I am now a fully requited concert goer. :-)

The Family

I believe this is the first ever picture of all of us... all three generations. It was taken at a Klondike-themed party my brother in law put on this weekend.

"You're good on the phone..."

For some reason, I got the list of the church communications team volunteers,  for the purpose of inviting them all to church to be blessed on Tuesday. So I told the editor of our parish newspaper that I would call them all. Now I'm not much of a phone enthusiast. In fact, I'd be more likely to describe myself as a "fall off a cliff" enthusiast before I ever staked such a claim. But the list came to me, and I knew it would be easier.

When we got home tonight, I got on the phone and started dialing as my wife sat to do her Sudoku. After a few calls, she said, "I don't know why you're afraid of the phone. You're good on the phone..."

"I've heard the messages I've left," I said. "I sound like an idiot. I repeat myself and sound awkward."

"We all do that."

I called a couple of more people, and left a rambling message on one woman's answering machine.

"You see?" I said, "I must have repeated myself  a half dozen times."

"That's always good... I always go to write the message down and then they hang up."

So maybe my rambling is like an executive summary. Maybe rambling isn't so bad.

Root canal

Before work yesterday, I trundled onto a bus headed for Billings Bridge, where my dentist works. I was both dreading and looking forward to this. I had been in agonizing pain for six weeks, so as odd as it may seem for someone to say they are looking forward to a root canal, I mostly was.

I got there before the doors opened. Another fellow was waiting there, and he looked at me as though I didn't belong there. You can't talk me out of being here, I thought to myself. I've often been late to the dentist, but since my dentist switched to this practice, I've been early every time. It is just an easier location for me to get to.

It was not my dentist I was here to see today, though. They have a specialist for that, and that was who I was seeing. So I was a little nervous. Before he began, he took a picture that was broadcast onto a ceiling mounted television in front of me - a picture of my tooth as it looked from the inside of my mouth. A round red hole took up nearly the entire bottom of my tooth. How the heck did he miss it? I wondered about the first dentist I had approached with my pain (not my regular dentist, but that is a long story.)

When he was done, but before the temporary filling went in, he took another picture. Half my tooth, and all of its insides, had been amputated. They aren't kidding when they call it a root canal.

I got to work with my nose numb and the left side of my face not working at all. I impersonated Jean Chretien for everyone, and I guess I nailed it. They all laughed. When the freezing came out I was free of pain - free for the first time since the end of July.

That's not so today. Thanks to the swelling, it hurts - a dull, persistent ache. It is preferable to the stabbing pain from before, but it is a little bit of a come down. It was nice not to hurt for a while. :-)

Ahmadinejab uses Windows

I went - just out of curiosity - to check out his blog, since I heard he was a blogger now. Of course, I cannot read Farsi, so I didn't get very far.

But his "autobiography" link is a missing page, and the 404 Error that comes up bears the signature of Microsoft's Asp.NET technology, version 1.1. So it seems that while the President of Iran may not be a fan of George Bush II, he is apparently a fan of William Gates III. ;-)

So...

In the plus column:

• I have a date with the dentist in two days. I'll be rid of this awful toothache, I hope.
• My bike is fixed. I have my freedom back!
• I'm blogging with Windows Live Writer and I just love it.
• My granddaughter is visiting me at work tomorrow, and I can show her off!
• I've been responding to ads regarding bands who need musicians. And (part of) my church folk group may be on the cusp of doing some work outside the church walls. I'm finally getting off my duff and making music part of my life again.

In the minus column:

• Did I mention I have a date with the dentist in two days? ;-)

Speaking of my granddaughter, she's getting contemptibly cute. She pushes herself up on all fours now, like she wants to crawl. She has that look that says, "Yes! I'm up.... umm... now what?" She can get up on all fours, you see, but hasn't figured out how to coordinate that into forward momentum. That should be fun to watch. And the older she gets, the more she looks like my daughter. She looks like a clone. I've even taken to calling her "Mini-You" to my daughter.

My Avatar

A great piece on theological controversies from the Bangkok Post

Nazri Bahrawi makes a great point, pointing out that the approach Christians took to the Da Vinci Code is a much better model for religious protest than the current reaction in the Muslim world against the comments of Benedict XVI. He writes:

Ironically, Muslims can perhaps take credence from the Christians who also faced an equally damaging controversy with the launch of Dan Brown's bestseller The Da Vinci Code, which alleges that Jesus Christ was only a mortal, that he married Mary Magdelene who later conceived his child.

Although the book's thesis challenged the very foundation of the Christian faith, the world did not witness widespread pandemonium in the form of bombings or death threats to the author. In comparison, reactions from the Pope's comments resulted in violence like the attacks on churches in the West Bank, and possibly the killing of an Italian nun in Mogadishu, Somalia.

Not that Mr Brown's book lacked strong disagreements from the Christian community. But instead of brute force, the world saw a flurry of books, forums and documentaries by Christians that countered point by point what its practitioners hailed as fallacies about their faith.

Such measured, intellectual neutralism against controversies arguably works far better than taking to the streets and burning effigies of Western symbolism, as Muslims did.

He goes on to point out that the Pope's speech, in which he spoke in favour of the western tradition of welding Greek rationalism to religious faith, has counterparts in Islam; Abdullah Badawi, Prime Minister of Malaysia, made a similar argument for Islam last year.

The rest of the article is here.

Nerd

Phillip recently asked Yahoo's Avatars site if they could add a llama (as a pet that you could choose to add to your background.) In their response they mentioned that they are adding accessories and clothing. So I decided to go check out what they had. When I saw some of the additions, I knew I had to make a change.

So I am now a guitar playing dude standing on the bridge of a spaceship. As my daughter always says with disgust, "You're such a nerd!"

That's not mine, baby.... that sort of thing's not my bag, baby!

You have to read it to believe it... I won't even get into it. I mean, if you've seen Austin Powers, you'll get what I mean. ;-)

"Popegate": An Asian commentary that gets it

Samir Kahlil does a little better at explaining the papal comments than I did. Worth a read... but the jist of it is the same. The Pope might have unwisely quoted a brusque Byzantine Emperor, but he was making a much larger point unrelated to the quote itself.

http://www.asianews.it/view.php?l=en&art=7224

Did the Pope draw a cartoon?

I'm not sure when Christianity learned to accept criticism, but it did. Anti-Christian polemics come fast and easy these days, and other than getting stirred up by the occassional broadside (such as the Da Vinci code), it has learned to cope quite well with criticism.

Islam does not yet seem able to to share this thicker skin, however. The other day, the Pope quoted some 14th century emperor regarding Jihad. His remarks were these:

In the seventh conversation ("diálesis" -- controversy) edited by professor Khoury, the emperor touches on the theme of the jihad (holy war). The emperor must have known that sura 2:256 reads: "There is no compulsion in religion." It is one of the suras of the early period, when Mohammed was still powerless and under [threat]. But naturally the emperor also knew the instructions, developed later and recorded in the Koran, concerning holy war.

Without descending to details, such as the difference in treatment accorded to those who have the "Book" and the "infidels," he turns to his interlocutor somewhat brusquely with the central question on the relationship between religion and violence in general, in these words: "Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached."

Now various clerics and legislators in the Islamic world are jumping up and down like the Pope was a Danish cartoonist. But it isn't as though what Emperor Paleologus said was entirely without a point. In the middle ages, it cannot be denied that the Saracens, Moors, and Arabs interpreted Jihad as permitting a rather ardent form of proselytization - the invasion of other countries, such as the transformation of Spain into Andalusia. And one cannot further deny that the terrorist movements that threaten us today are inspired by that medieval quest for a pan-global caliphate. Note that the Pope is not criticizing all Muslims who ever lived, here. He elaborates:

The emperor goes on to explain in detail the reasons why spreading the faith through violence is something unreasonable. Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. "God is not pleased by blood, and not acting reasonably ("syn logo") is contrary to God's nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats.... To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death...."

The decisive statement in this argument against violent conversion is this: Not to act in accordance with reason is contrary to God's nature. The editor, Theodore Khoury, observes: For the emperor, as a Byzantine shaped by Greek philosophy, this statement is self-evident. But for Muslim teaching, God is absolutely transcendent. His will is not bound up with any of our categories, even that of rationality. Here Khoury quotes a work of the noted French Islamist R. Arnaldez, who points out that Ibn Hazn went so far as to state that God is not bound even by his own word, and that nothing would oblige him to reveal the truth to us. Were it God's will, we would even have to practice idolatry.

As far as understanding of God and thus the concrete practice of religion is concerned, we find ourselves faced with a dilemma which nowadays challenges us directly. Is the conviction that acting unreasonably contradicts God's nature merely a Greek idea, or is it always and intrinsically true?

So the Pope is not fulminating against even jihad, the way his many critics in the Muslim world suggest. He is criticizing a strong vein of thought in a great deal of Islamic exegesis, one that suggests that God is so inscrutable that his law does not have to make sense. The Pope is daring to argue that divine instruction does need to make sense! The horror! Heaven forbid that Islam change any of its theological currents to accept such a view...

Given that the image problem Islam has right now comes from a small band of violent renegades who believe they can just make up their own interpretation of Islam's doctrines (such as that of Jihad), on the contrary, I would think the world of Islam would be welcoming a dialogue with the Pope. He's not seeking to exchange platitudes, but have a real dialogue about how to meet God and understand him. We wouldn't want that now, would we?

Learn to love the world

According to the Washington Post, Kimveer Gill was a blogger, a young man who wrote he "hated the world." Writing in an angry nihilist tone, one entry clearly foreshadowed what it was he would do:

The disgusting human creatures scream in panic and run in all directions, taking with them the lies and deceptions. The Death Night gazes at the humans with an empty stare, as they knock each other down in a mad dash to safety. He wishes to slaughter them as they flee. . .

While he may have had enough intuition to predict how his dark plans might unfold, his video-game, Columbine, and Matrix outlook robbed him of the more important intuition: life isn't a lie and it isn't a deception. It is instead what you make of it. It does not need to be a dark hell. The world is full of light and life, if you know where to find it. A darkened heart might observe that destructive forces are all around. Even the universe is full of nuclear violence; but that violence lights up the stars, and sends life-giving elements into the clouds of stellar dust, giving birth to infinite worlds of wonder.

So it is with the human heart. You can respond to misery in life by lashing out at it. Or you can respond to misery with charity and genuine human warmth. For there is nothing more powerful in creation than the human heart - a power which has defeated bullets and swords, a power that quite literally can move mountains and make a tree of a mustard seed. That will be the true legacy here, just as it was with Columbine. Good people will reach out in compassion and charity. They always do, and it never ceases to amaze.

For me, it is that I will let linger.

And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never overtaken it. (John 1:5)

Why students?

Why students? I just don't get it. Not that an incident like this latest Montreal massacre is ever comprehensible - it isn't.

But students are at the very dawn of their adult life. Dawson College is a CEGEP, which is more like a senior high school than University. The kids being shot at were just beginning the journey, with most of their lives ahead of them. The young woman who died was only eighteen years of age - younger than my eldest daughter.

Why do evil people always target the most promising among us? Why do they always want to rob those who haven't had their chance yet?

Echoes of l'ecole polytechnique

On one of Canada's blackest days, a man named Marc Lepine walked into L'ecole Polytechnique and shot fourteen women dead, inspired by his hatred of women.

Today's shooting was a scary echo of both that incident and Columbine. Thank God, it appears nobody other than the shooter died this time.

Neanderthals hang on

I was reading today that in Spain, the Neanderthals hung on about 4,000 years longer than previously thought. But it was another article linked into this one that caught my eye. This one on National Geographic about how tooth growth evidence suggests that the Neanderthals had a long childhood just as we do.

This contrasts with an earlier finding that Neanderthals must have matured younger, since their wisdom teeth came in at about fifteen.

And as these contradictions floated before me, I thought up a possible explanation as to why slow growing Neanderthals might have gotten their wisdom teeth at such an early age. (Presumptious for a layman, I know but bear with me.) Neanderthals had larger mouths than we do. Perhaps it is simply that they could fit adult molars into these mouths at a younger age, and so that is when their adult molars came in!

What do you think?

An open letter to Osama Bin Laden

Five years ago today on the western calendar, the skies were blue and a warm sunny day was just getting under way. You intended to darken the skies that day, and for a short time you did. But today, just as it was that day, the skies are blue and the morning has heralded a warm sunny day. Perhaps the fact that God has seen fit to deliver today exactly the kind of day you interrupted five years ago is his way of demonstrating how impotent you really are.

I know you intended to make us live in fear that day. You certainly brought grief and anguish – there are many people in New York and elsewhere who miss the touch of hands they can no longer hold, and smiles they can no longer see except in the comfort of their memories. And certainly you, Osama, have experienced the fear you sought to bring. I read yesterday that you will not even wear a watch, for fear that the CIA can track you with it. What a miserable life you must live that you have to fear wearing a wrist watch!

But I want you to know that I do not live in fear of you, or people who make cause with you. Statistically, I really have no reason to fear you – for if statistics do mean anything, I have more reason to cower from a deer grazing by the road then I ever would from you. But I do not wish to tell you of statistics.

I began a spiritual journey that year that has only deepened with the passing of time. I know you know something of spiritual journeys from the CNN special that described your early life. But your spiritual journey led you to the philosophy some of your acolytes portrayed with these words: “You love life, we love death.”

You are right to suggest that I love life. For God created life – he created life when he uttered the words, “Let the water teem with an abundance of living creatures, and on the earth let birds fly beneath the dome of the sky.” The mere fact that life exists at all owes itself to the sacred act of God's love, the great artist expressing his heart's desire in the form of living flesh. God saw all that he had wrought and said that it was good.

I do not fear death – certainly not death at your hands – but you are right to say I love life. While you have been busy embracing death, I have been busy embracing life. I know your interpretation of Islam forbids most singing, but in the words of one of our singers (Tim McGraw), “I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter, and I gave forgiveness I’d been denying.” I have laughed. I have cried. And I have loved, silently, without saying a word at all. I have sung my heart out to God on Sunday nights, and he has listened to me, and I have been in his tender arms.

But you – you will never know God, even though it was in trying to find God that you began your transformation.

It is as you say, you love death. Your heart – when it is not full of fear of being found by the CIA – is filled with thoughts of hurting people, as though you were Ozymandias toiling in the desert to erect a pillar that might stand and impress wanderers of the distant future. But your legacy, a treasure you cherish, is a thing that moths consume and rust destroys. You will never enjoy your seventy two raisins in heaven. You will never meet God. Instead, you will only know the prison of anger and fear you have created for yourself.

It is almost enough to make a person hope that they never find you, although they probably will someday. Your pitiful and miserable existence must be more punishment than most men can possibly endure. Your life is bereft of tenderness and gentleness. You have become full of the very fear you sought to create.

Ultimately, all I want to say to you is that I do not share your fear, nor do I share your hate and anger. You sought to make a great statement. But in the lives of so many like me, your great statement vanished like a puff of smoke from a pipe. You have become a fearful figure of ridicule. To be honest, all I feel for you is pity.

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

(“Ozymandias,” by Percy Shelley)

Things that right themselves

Sometimes I think the real new year starts in September. So much seems to renew itself - such as my own spirits, for instance.

If I could find one moment to symbolize this, I think it would be last night at about seven forty five. Our church folk group (or choir if you prefer) assembles downstairs about fifteen minutes before the opening hymn begins. During the summer, a lot of people stop coming to sing, and this summer was worse than usual. Often I would show up and it would be me as the sole accompanist, with only two singers.

When I went down, one singer after another streamed in, some I had not seen in many months. By the time we went up to sing, we were a dozen strong, and when it came time to sing "How Great Thou Art", we sang it like I haven't heard it in a long time.

So I went downstairs after mass (yesterday happened to be the "breakfast of possibilities," the day designated for volunteer signup), and re-signed up for everything I already did. It seemed fitting somehow. Everything has come around again.

Things change

Her alarm was set for six. Mine for six thirty. By the time I got up, she was dressed, packed, had made herself breakfast and lunch, and she was ready to go. So much for my theory. But tonight, she still wanted me to walk her upstairs when she went to bed... you know, monsters in the upstairs hallway and whatnot. There are still threads that tie back to the time when she was ever so little, though not so many as a parent would like. Still, you gratefully accept what remains, for she is always that little girl to me, no matter how grown up she gets.

In truth, I likely wasn't up at six this morning because I am not sleeping any more. I have terrible dental pain, and have since about halfway through the vacation. It gets unbearable at night if I lie down, and I can't sleep standing or sitting up. It has been weeks since I've had more than a sporadic good night's sleep. The first dentist I saw couldn't find anything (either that, or he didn't try very hard to find anything.) Then I went to the doctor in case it was medical. He seemed to think it was some kind of swollen nerve, but it isn't - a week of anti-inflammatories later, and I'm still suffering. I have another dentist appointment tomorrow - this time with the clinic where my longtime dentist moved. Wish me luck. I've been living in pain for weeks, and would be happy to catch a break from it.

Back to school

The youngest is back to school in the morning. She's bigger this year, and probably doesn't need my help getting ready any more. But I will be making her lunch, packing it into her bag, and getting her breakfast... because I can, and because she'll still let me. This will not last forever, but it will last at least until tomorrow. And the day after that. And so I do it while I can.

Carpe diem.

Fun at the music store

I've been teaching my nephew how to play guitar for a few months. Earlier this week, one of his friends bought a $1500 guitar. For whatever (fortunate) reason, this inspired him to give his old electric guitar to my nephew. Of course, having an electric means having an amplifier.

So I arranged to meet at Long and McQuade, a music store near me, to help him shop. I went down the guitar aisle, and saw a beautifully finished telecaster. The guitar technician told me, "It is called a Telecaster Highway One. It is cheaper than other American made Fenders, because it doesn't have that hard lacquered finish."

Cheaper! I thought. On this red beauty, you could see the grain of the wood, and the semi-gloss finish made it look like a real wood guitar. I knew that this guitar would be easier to dent and chip, but that just gives a guitar character. So I went up to the counter and said, "He's looking for an amp, and I want to try that telecaster. Do you think we could kill both birds with one stone?"

They hooked us up to a Vox amp that looked nice. I started playing this telecaster... but as a stratocaster adapted guitar player, I was hitting a few bum notes - an embarassing thing to do in front of other musicians. I couldn't help it; the neck on a telecaster is much thinner. But I found my groove, and started finger picking out some nifty blues riffs that made this guitar sing. Ientirely forgot I brought my nephew along.

"Here! Try it," I said.

"No, no, I just want to hear it," He said. I think he was worried about showing off his nascent guitar skills in a room full of skilled musicians. I could relate...

"How would it sound in headphones?" He asked.

"I don't know... but I'm sure they'd lend you a pair."

He went and fetched a pair, while I played Dire Straits "Telegraph Road" melody parts onto this telecaster I had fallen deeply in love with. The headphone volume was really low, since the quarter inch jack was more for line output than headphones. So we had the tech switch us over to a Line 6 amp with a proper headphone jack.

"It is second hand," the tech said, "so it is only a hundred and eighty. But it has six months warranty on it, so I imagine it has hardly been used."

On the front panel were some sound presets - Clean, Cruncy, Metal, and Insane. My nephew plugged in the headphones and hit Insane. "

Here... have some fun," I smirked.

As he heard his chords buzz and shimmer harder than Hendrix , Creed, or Nickelback, he smiled like a small boy. He bought the amp, we headed for my house, I dragged my stratocasters up from the basement, and we jammed away like teenage boys who've just started their first band after discovering the volume knobs.

As summer winds to an end

I find myself to be in a state of some peace, but in a place of emotional dullness as well. But that might be all the painkillers I am taking for a wicked toothache.

I spoke to my niece about baptizing her daughter. The father wants to let the child "find her own religion" later, but I agreed with my niece when we spoke about it. Religion is a dialog with God, and in some sense certainly that dialog is not fixed in childhood.

But dialog needs language, and if you never learn to speak the language of God, how do you learn to have dialog with him? I told my niece that I felt faith gives a person the abilities and skills needed to discern the meaning of life (which is not forty two, in my opinion.) How do you learn to travel through life's passages without the language and poetry of the rites that accompany it? What would a funeral mean to you, or a wedding?  Leaving a child to "find their own religion" is like leaving them to find their own language. They may learn other languages later in life, but doing so certainly is not easier for them if they are mute!