I just finished Pope Benedict's book Jesus of Nazareth with several friends with whom I meet weekly to discuss our communal reading. My friends and I could be described as evangelical Christians, though I often chafe at the designation. I have to say that Benedict's book is one of the best I have read on the subject of Jesus. In his introduction, he clarifies that he is not writing ex cathedra but as one writes about a friend or lover. The book is personal, pastoral, and - here is what he accomplishes that I have seen in only few Protestant authors - simultaneously grounded in Church history, generous theology and exegetical method.
I have recommended Jesus of Nazareth to several (evangelical) friends. It is amusing that it is not unusual for some to pose serious suspicions that the Pope is 'holding back his real views' or seems to be 'accommodating Protestants' when he speaks of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, salvation by grace and the subject of election. Nothing could be further from the truth. Benedict's book is sincere, unself-conscious, and unapologetic.
Regardless of one's experience with the Christian faith, the Church (in whatever form), or with Jesus Christ Himself, this book refreshes the spirit and enlightens the mind with respect to its Subject. Those accustomed to Protestant writers will find no argument with Benedict, and, instead, will find many insights from a new, yet orthodox, perspective. Not having read many Catholic writers (except the essayist Chesterton and the poet Hopkins), I cannot speak for those in a Catholic audience, but would surmise that one will find much that is familiar, engaging, and edifying.
I restrained myself from summarizing the book's content. I did not want to misstate his arguments or do violence to his eloquence (a particular treat). Another friend of mine recommended the book to me saying "the introduction alone is worth the price of the book". He was right. Anyone with the least bit of curiosity in Jesus owes it to himself to read the introduction at least. My bet is that he will want to finish the volume. Can't wait for part two.
More later.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Hello World
Fellow technologists will recognize the title of this blog entry as the quintessential first attempt at anything related to learning a tool or medium. Already from the perspective of the second sentence, I can see I will have to learn four things. First, there is this tool, which is not much different than most simple text editors I have used over the years. But discovering its features will be part of this new experience. I can change the size of the font or its type. I can express myself boldly, softly, or colorfully. (Experimenting, of course, is part and parcel of the Hello World ritual.) This learning curve should be short and shallow, depending on how many widgets and wonderknobs will interest me enough to use.
Second, when I write for pleasure (poetry, punditry and personal correspondence) or work (specifications and guides), I prefer paper. The physical act of writing with either pencil or pen is part of the experience of expression, and, I think, affects what I have to say. Using my digits independent of one another (though still connected to a single thought through the central nervous systems) upon a keyboard offers different tactile feedback than a single hand cradling a writing stick and moving across the lines of a page. Even visual feedback morphs from wriggly loops and lines that comprise my handwriting on flat, plain scrip to a fonted characters marching across a screen cluttered with color graphics, links to far-off places and other words not my own.
On another level, I am learning the medium of the ersatz blogosphere. Is it really a sphere? Or is it a wormhole than takes you into another dimension of reality, applying unnerving pressures, distorting what it conducts? Is it a mobius strip that only turns upon itself, never consumed, never ending, and never going anywhere? If the medium is the message, the topology will communicate more than the words I write. I expect this to take a little longer to learn well.
Finally, I am exploring communications with an audience that is faceless, voiceless, and transient. A dumb, deaf and blind barker who talks by text to an ephemeral crowd (that may not ever exist) and awaits response like a hopeful cosmologist searching for intelligible (if not intelligent) life. This may be the most challenging to master. The question will be whether I have the patience to become an effective and entertaining writer for this kind of audience.
And the name? Well, it's a tip of the hat to one of my favorite musical passages - the second movement of Beethoven's seventh symphony.
Enough for now. More later.
Second, when I write for pleasure (poetry, punditry and personal correspondence) or work (specifications and guides), I prefer paper. The physical act of writing with either pencil or pen is part of the experience of expression, and, I think, affects what I have to say. Using my digits independent of one another (though still connected to a single thought through the central nervous systems) upon a keyboard offers different tactile feedback than a single hand cradling a writing stick and moving across the lines of a page. Even visual feedback morphs from wriggly loops and lines that comprise my handwriting on flat, plain scrip to a fonted characters marching across a screen cluttered with color graphics, links to far-off places and other words not my own.
On another level, I am learning the medium of the ersatz blogosphere. Is it really a sphere? Or is it a wormhole than takes you into another dimension of reality, applying unnerving pressures, distorting what it conducts? Is it a mobius strip that only turns upon itself, never consumed, never ending, and never going anywhere? If the medium is the message, the topology will communicate more than the words I write. I expect this to take a little longer to learn well.
Finally, I am exploring communications with an audience that is faceless, voiceless, and transient. A dumb, deaf and blind barker who talks by text to an ephemeral crowd (that may not ever exist) and awaits response like a hopeful cosmologist searching for intelligible (if not intelligent) life. This may be the most challenging to master. The question will be whether I have the patience to become an effective and entertaining writer for this kind of audience.
And the name? Well, it's a tip of the hat to one of my favorite musical passages - the second movement of Beethoven's seventh symphony.
Enough for now. More later.
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