Brutally Honest

Human rights: Canadian bloggers sued

Posted by guest blogger:  Leslie.  Submitted as evidence of the effects of years of socialist governing.

Ever since I heard Kate McMillan, Kathy Shaidle as well as Ezra Levant and Free Dominion were being sued by Richard Warman I've been thinking about the leader of the Progressive Element, The Head, whose main minion said this:

"Why you fool, it's the educated reader who can be gulled.  All our difficulty comes with the others.  When did you meet a workman who believes the papers?  He takes it for granted that they're all propaganda and skips the leading articles.  He buys his paper for the football results and the little paragraphs about girls falling out of windows and corpses found in Mayfair flats.  He is our problem.  We have to recondition him. But the educated public, the people who read the highbrow weeklies, don't need reconditioning.  They're all right already.  They'll believe anything." (C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength, 1945)

The Head, you see, was a scientist who had, through careful planning, dodged the inevitability of death and survived the guillotine when his followers, The Progressives, dusted off his disembodied melon and mounted it with a connection of tubes filled with precise concoctions of life-giving fluids.  And it was from there he lead, that severed head, and to where he said the people sped.  Because you don't need reality to get an idea, um, rolling. Or up off the ground. Never mind that The Head was armless and legless.  The Progressives granted him importance, so he needed to be dealt with.

Upon reading the newspapers today, we are living out C.S. Lewis' sci-fi prophecies. Only in Canada, I'm not sure where The Head is actually housed these days.  But I see his minions everywhere. As Mark Steyn puts is:

Incidentally, if you examine the philosophical underpinnings of Canada's "human rights" "jurisprudence," you're struck by a consistent contempt not just for freedom of expression and the presumption of innocence but also for property rights: it's no surprise that a body that takes unto itself the power to regulate the content of privately owned magazines also assumes with nary a thought that it has the right to hijack its neighbours' computer systems when it needs to construct a false identity.

This is Canadian reality today: government regulation of magazine content, hijacked computer systems and false identities.

As Oz Guiness puts it, Without absolute truth there is only manipulation.

If this is news to you, please avail yourself of a special one-time only Alice the Camel Canadian Current Events Human Rights Primer.  Or ACCCEHRP for short. Read your way through and catch a glimpse of The Head's minions before they catch a glimpse of you:

Mark Steyn will get you started --  "Serial litigant and Stormfront member Richard Warman launched a blizzard of lawsuits today, against The National Post and the backbone of the northern blogosphere - Ezra Levant, Kate McMillan, Kathy Shaidle and Free Dominion."

Ezra Levant thoroughly explains -- "It’s impossible to criticize section 13 without criticizing Warman, because without Warman, section 13 would have been defunct years ago – almost no-one else in this country of 33 million people uses it."

Macleans -- Richard Warman says he's fighting hate

Free Mark Steyn -- Great stuff up there.  Keep checking it. Study up and then dig out your wallet.   Paypal buttons aplenty.

• Kate McMillan of Small Dead Animals
• Kathy Shaidle of Five Feet of Fury
• Ezra Levant
• FreeDominion.ca

Regular people are racking up irregular legal bills simply by doing regular things.

c/p: Alice the Camel

More Fallout From America's Occupation of Iraq

"This is so unusual, and I don't know whether or not it's a lesson from God," Karim said.

ht: Captain Capitalism

Posted by guest blogger, Leslie.

Hers the Kingdom of Heaven

Amy Pickard, has spent the last 6 years in a coma doing nothing but digesting what is poured into her to keep her alive. 6 years ago she was 17.

Treasure in jars of clay.

Guest post by Leslie

Your Will Be Done

Posted by guest blogger, Leslie, on this All Hallow's Eve.

What lies beyond death? Considering what a prominent place this question has held in both myth and literature throughout the ages, it is easily a point of human fascination. Hell, in particular, has literally and figuratively captivated the imagination of human history. The Greeks feared Hades, Dante pondered the circular depths of his Inferno and evil Norsemen expected to wade through venomous rivers of Náströnd. Suffice to say, the concept of Hell is not primarily a Christian one. Civilizations across time have felt the burden of accusation and have crafted into their stories ways of doling out punishment to heap justice on the deserving and vindicate the plight of the victim.

Many of our traditional, western, tent-revival, rattling-chain perceptions of Hell are based on nothing related to the Bible. For instance, Satan is often crowned ruler over Hell and those cast into it. Once rejected by St. Peter, Satan is invited to have his way with you. This is a lie. Jesus let it slip in a story he told, “Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” Apparently the Christ of the Christians claims the devil is not only accused, he’s already condemned.

On the other hand, the post-modern, scientific world has enthusiastically denounced the existence of Hell or any form of afterlife for that matter. In an ironic twist of divine comedy, this widespread rejection of the possibility of eternal torment seems to have compelled people to concoct for themselves a living Hell right here on Earth, embracing Chaos and the Trauma that holds its hand. One way or another it seems there is no escape for the accused. Infliction comes. If not from outside sources, then from within. If the heat of the flames does not reach us it is as though we are driven to search in hopes of dangling our toes over the edge that we may partake in that punishment we crave deep down.

How those flames lick at our toes. We torture ourselves with ideals of perfection. The ethereal standard that whispers relentlessly in our ear entices us to work at getting ahead. More professional development courses to climb the ladder of job perfection. More dieting, and a little botox to create visual perfection. More exercise to prove the body invincible. More learning, life-long learning, because knowledge is power and power is the only way a person can be in control of their circumstances well enough to place themselves in a context of perfection.

All of it is a means of ferreting out our inadequacy and casting it to the flames. Who needs the threat of Hell to fear us into submission when we do a masterful job of it on our own?

C.S. Lewis once said, There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says, in the end, 'Thy will be done.' As our relationships suffer at the hands of our advancing worklife, chemicals numb our railing joints after winning the marathon, our minds tire and tanning beds scorch us with skin cancer, we bask in the delicious fulfillment of our goals.

In the midst of it all The Angry God lays his cards on the table and reveals his will: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

How often I choose the flames.

c/p & c/p

Ancient Torture, Modern Health Care, Afghanistan

Guest Post by Leslie from Canada

As an aside, I really like this post. A lot.

Both an epiphany and a paradigm shift occured while laying face down on a physio table this afternoon. Last week, when in the same position I was a candidate for regular feel-good treatment options. This week, no dice. Today, the same-old-same-olds were sent packing only to usher in the new regime.

The verdict for my shortened, flaring muscles? IMS It's all the rage:

A trained therapist inserts very fine needles (like those used in acupuncture) into the shortened muscle at the points where it is tight. The needles change the electrical potential of the muscle, and cause micro-injuries that stimulate blood circulation and healing. The needles cause almost no pain when inserted into normal muscle. They cause painful cramping when they are inserted into a shortened muscle; but after the muscle cramps, it relaxes. With weekly treatments over several weeks, the initial pain is followed by long-term relief for many [so not all - A] patients.

C.S. Lewis once said, "Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; BUT THOSE WHO TORMENT US FOR OUR OWN GOOD WILL TORMENT US WITHOUT END [!], for they do so with the approval of their consciences."

So, as it was described to me this afternoon, during each session I could expect upwards of 30 needles inserted into the hardest part of each muscle knot along both sides of my spine from stem to stern. Once inserted, the therapist will twist the needle to amplify its presence and maximize the after-effects. "Neat!" I thought. "Then I can pretend I'm a damsel in distress captured and tortured by some ancient barbaric people group." Only in theory I'll willingly call the clinic, drive myself there and pay $100 a session for the priviledge of getting stabbed in the back. Which led me to think about pacifism.

pac-i-fism: 1 : opposition to war or violence as a means of settling disputes; specifically : refusal to bear arms on moral or religious grounds 2 : an attitude or policy of nonresistance

So the options are:

a) WAGE WAR: I pay a man to stab me in the back and literally twist the knife with the expectation that peace will reign in my spine. Or,

b) MISSION OF PEACE: I oppose the violence and take the line of least resistance with the assurance that I will continue this life of intramuscular oppression.

What should I do?

WWTD?

c/p: Alice the Camel

Man vs. Self-Made Man

Guest post written by Leslie.

My grandfather would be 104 years old if he were alive today. He was a man with a sense of humor and a driven work ethic. In his younger days he often helped neighbouring pioneers prove up their land. During the settlement of the west in Canada, land was given out with the expectation that a certain percentage of it would be quickly plowed and cleared. Only horses and hands back then. I can still remember him pulling himself up the step ladder of the harvest combine by his cane. Rung by rung he’d hoist himself up while we held our breath until he made it into the seat of the cab. Not bad for a man in his eighties. He lived to be 94. 

He was quite vocal about the personalities that would appear on the TV set. “Video Hits” with Samantha Taylor would come on in the afternoons and be assured the idols who were worshiped at my junior high school were lost on my grandfather.  I wasn’t hip then like I am now (ha!) but tried to do my teenage duty and blend in and spent a bit of time trying to reconcile teenage idol worship with the disdain of my grandfather.

What I realize now is that he saw those singers as real people. 

Generally, we don’t. Humans seem to switch over to an entertainment brain that makes allowances for the behaviour of artistes in the biz, allowances that would never be granted to the lady in the grocery store or the guy beside you on the bus or your friend for that matter. Take Elvis, for instance. The King and all his bling would have been a dweeby weirdo if he’d been a shiny shirted neighbour living next to you. Really. Picture your neighbour in a later-Elvis get up. See what I mean? Cognitive dissonance. Thank you. Thank you very much.

When my grandfather saw the “stars” dancing and shrieking on Video Hits, he didn’t think about the virtue of their clothing styles or the quality of their music. He looked at them and thought: What a stupid, empty way to make a living. They have no pride.

And he'd shut of the TV set and made his way to the car and drove out to the combine where he’d drag himself up to take in another season’s crop. Completely different mindsets.

So, it is with this in mind that I read Norah Vincent’s Self-Made Man: One Woman's Year Disguised as a Man. Chuck Colson highlighted this once NYT bestseller two March’s ago. Only now have I gotten to it.  

Basically, Norah Vincent, herself a lesbian, dresses as a man for a year and learns that white heteronormative men in bowling leagues are not racist or homophobic and do have feelings; that prowling women have unreasonable dating expectations; and that ultimately women are different than men. Surprise!

My question is how did I know all this without one iota of cross dressing?

And, more importantly, what did I gain from plowing through this book?

Dumb and dumber.

Libertas Painus

At one time, someone mused that the purpose of pain was to point to the presence of a soul.  Perhaps this is true, although deep within the confines of my own soul I suspect there is more than one purpose.  Still, if it is the truth then evidences of the soul are indeed everywhere.  so prolific are symptoms diagnosing this base element of human existence!  In some senses it proves to be a unifying thread interwoven amongst all members of the human race.  Who has not at one time shared these ancient words with David?    

How long, O Lord?
Will you forget me forever?    
How long will you hide your face from me?    
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?    
How long will my enemy triumph over me? Psalm 13

Of course tolerance thresholds differ, making it ultimately impossible to gauge pain with any kind of absolute standard of measure.  People on one side of the world weep over the loss of a home so meager it would leave others weeping if they found themselves forced to live in it.  At the same time a customer feels annoying hunger pangs when a restaurant order has been misplaced, a child elsewhere sifts the dirt that is the kitchen floor in hope of finding a stray kernel of wheat to toss into a distended belly.  Loneliness badgers those in the most crowded halls.  Amazingly, it is all pain.  It is contradictory.

For some, their pain causes them to inflict still more pain on those around them. And then, there are those whose pain drives them to serve others.  It is difficult to manage.

It can be both physical and emotional.  Ironically, both types prompted the gods of science to wage war against it using a heavy artillery of chemical warfare.  After pain quietly sneaks past homeland security and infiltrates every possible avenue of the human it is attacking, anti-inflammatories, anti-depressants and anti-psychotics are deployed in an attempt to restore order and bring freedom to the oppressed.  The trouble is, pills never remove the problem.  They only help the civilian ignore it for a while longer.  It is difficult, if not impossible to eradicate.

In light of this impossibility, I find myself wondering about this passion we all have to free ourselves from pain -- libertas painus.  Surely, if this earthly life is all there is, then it seems logical to flee from pain; it isn't any fun.  Still, libertas painus would make children in grade five giggle.  Maybe their instincts are good.  Green Day affectionately hopes that when we all look back, we will find we've had the time of our life.  Such kind sentiments are surely well intended and definitely make for a great graduation-memory slide show, but when offered to a tsunami survivor or someone who has been repeatedly gang-raped in the Sudan, it seems a little...trite.

The functionality of pain is hard to ignore.  Whether physical or emotional, it all sounds an alarm that something needs to be acknowledged and confronted.  It tells you everything from it being time to take your hand out of the fire to it being time to reconcile with a brother or sister.  Without the ability to sense it, people quickly lose limbs or find themselves isolated.  What would we do without pain?  We would miss it if it was gone.

This pain we all experience is like a cosmic message repeatedly telling us to change what we are doing.  But instead of listening and changing, I find myself repeatedly climbing a mountain to meet yet another apothecaric guru who sits atop it and dispenses the appropriately coloured pill, which has been carefully designed to squelch the noise of the alarm.  The same alarm I would miss if it was gone because it is telling me to change what I'm doing for my own benefit.  Is it the fault of the doctor that I run like a lemming to him in my search for answers?  How can he have all the answers? What finite human would have a satisfying solution for the muck that lurks within me? There is only one who knows, and for some reason he's the one I always forget to ask.

So, how do I free myself from libertas painus and be at peace with it all? When I look back at the end of my life, and see the many things I cannot do here on Earth, will regret overcome me? No.  My hope is in God. I look forward, at him whose undeniable presence suggests to me that there is more to look forward to than merely the events of this short life.  More that will take place in the New Heaven where all things are diametrically opposed to this old world with which we are most familiar.  Where the need for musicians will soar.  Where doctors will joyously find their skills obsolete.  Where love will always be sincere and the tears will be wiped from our eyes.  Where everyone will dance.    

Praise the Lord.    
Praise God in his sanctuary;      
praise him in his mighty heavens.    
Praise him for his acts of power;      
praise him for his surpassing greatness.    
Praise him with the sound of the trumpet.      
praise him with the harp & lyre,      
praise him with tambourine & dancing,      
praise him with the strings and flute,      
praise him with the clash of cymbals,      
praise him with resounding cymbals.    

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.    
Praise the Lord. Psalm 150

Someday, we will all dance.

[Written a long time ago by Leslie and cross posted to Alice the Camel]

Wisdom, and hope...

... for you list makers out there... you know who you are and Alice the Camel offers solace.

When everything is holy...

Leslie here: During the month of May, Mark at The Lotus ran a series on the Emerging Church movement, Rick expressed an interest in it and since then we've been emailing back and forth a bit, tossing around ideas. I'm not sure I have much to add, but as I read over Mark's words and watched his selected YouTube clips a few thoughts and some Bible verses came to mind. What follows are quotes from The Lotus' Series and my verbaceous hoo haa:

Volume 1:

My view of truth is that Truth is God's fingerprints in the universe. Therefore, in all things we can find some truth, but in no single thing can we find all truth. Emerging Church movements recognize this and are approaching faith more humbly. We believe in Truth, but with the understanding that we know only in part...as through a mirror, dimly, but one day we will know fully...and be fully known.

I find different permutations and combinations of this idea comes up quite a bit in postmodern circles.  If there is no truth, obviously we can't know it.  And if there is, then we acknowledge that it's out there, but we can't know it. The Bible, if you acknowledge the words beyond the red letters as a a valid source, promises that "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness." (2 Peter)  By knowing Jesus, we can know all we need to know.  He claimed to be the Truth.  To press beyond that is the foundations of human pride.  John Piper talks about this type of can't know relativism as pride wearing humble clothes. 

Volume 2:

We believe that the Church needs to wake from her slumber of complacency to a faith that Jesus died to give: A faith that tranforms our lives such that we reflect the love of God in all that we say and do.

I would really love someone to define the Church's "slumber of complacency".  This too is a recurrent theme, which as near as I can tell, simply refers to a past lack of emphasis on social justice issues. We are not reflecting the love of God unless we are lobbying the government for social spending. If we combine this with Volume 1's idea where we can barely know the Truth, it leaves me wondering, wake up to what?  I guess what I'm saying is I'm growing weary of the constant insults to Christ's church. Maybe if I lobbied more I'd understand.

Volume 3:

I found Driscoll's You-Tube video very interesting. Who knew there is an actual definitional difference between the terms "Emergent" and "Emerging"?  Not me.  I just thought Mike Todd hated the term 'emerging' because it sounded goofy, but it's just not liberal enough for him.  Sooner or later it all adds up.

Volume 4:

On YouTube there was a video discussion going on about the Emerging Church movement. One older gentleman (trust me, I am using that word VERY loosely) was calling Emerging Church "stupid, heretical, and unorthodox."

The fangs that often accompany the "Emergent" Church movement make me tired.  I didn't watch the entire Vol 4 video and I purposely didn't read the 'older gentleman's' full comment, but I do think it wouldn't hurt for EC folks to recognize that the fangs make an impact on other Christians. I empathize with this man's frustration. They have a lot of bridge building to do if they could whip up a collective desire for a bridge or acknowledge the chasm the radical fangers are helping form within the Church itself.

I believe Jesus is more powerful than I. How many times has that got me labelled a heretic or a fundamentalist by professing Christians? And not in the nice way either.  :)  It turns me off and sends me back to listen to John Piper's humble clothes podcast.

Volume 5: 

Words are so confining...

This represents what I feel is a disturbing, postmodern theme. "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God." (#) We trivialize words.  Something to think about.

Volume 6:

May God show us the way to faith together. I pray to God that I never become the center of church or Sunday mornings...for then my life's purpose has failed. I pray that everyone sees my weakness and my inadequacies. I pray they see I am just a broken man. My prayer is that we bring our faith in God together, and together, we celebrate the God who loves us all. May we truly experience God.

This is beautiful. I want to make it perfectly clear that the issues I have brought up are more about issues I have with the general conversation rather than The Lotus' specific points. It is easy to forget with emerging/emergent discussions is that everyone holds to their own variant.  It requires constant and diligent sifting; a sifting that is impossible without a foundational knowledge of truths about God and man.

Paul in Romans says this:

Forget about deciding what's right for each other.  Here's what you need to be concerned about:  that you don't get in the way of someone else, making life more difficult than it already is.  I'm convinced -- Jesus convinced me! -- that everything as it is in itself is holy.  We, of course, by the way we treat it or talk about it, can contaminate it.

This is the intersection where the good of postmodern philosophy meets the bad. Overall, it's the human contamination potential that gets forgotten.

First things first

Leslie here:  I've attached links to my Canadian examples for background, but my main point is the quote about Bonhoeffer, which crosses any border quite nicely...

No matter how many ways I look at it, I cannot understand why socialism rests comfortably amidst Christianity. That is to say, while socialism is self-confident enough to make itself comfortable anywhere, I don't see how Christianity can offer it a lounge chair without defying some of its most foundational concepts such as the freedom of human will and the existence of a God who wishes to interact with humanity. The state is not God and freedom is not the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

It can be tricky to discuss. Participating in democratic governmental affairs is not to be discouraged. More to the point, social programs often appear to focus on goals very similar to many directives in Scripture: feed the poor, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, care for the sick. Tommy Douglas, who "makes Canada cool", was a preacher. That was no coincidence.

Still, it just doesn't sit right with me. There's something that feels very unChristian about social programs and the lobbying that births them.

In the afterword of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's book Meditating on the Word, John Vannorsdall of the Lutheran Theological Seminary speaks to the conflict that is present in what would otherwise be a good fit:

Frau Julie Bonhoeffer at the age of ninety-one walked through a cordon of brownshirts to buy strawberries from a Jewish merchant. Her grandson, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, died for his defiance of the Nazis...both acts, by themselves are ambiguous. The aged and the aristocratic have a way of dealing with the riff-raff, and Dietrich was not a social activist in the contemporary sense. What comes through these pages is a piety which does not start with social action and which does not assume that defiance of evil is divinely motivated. Here we begin and end with an ear bent to hear the Word of God. We begin with an ultimate devotion the outcome of which is sometimes cordons crossed or prison and death.

So, here's my thought. There is a rhythm to life. Sometimes it's not the ingredients that are wrong but the order.

What's first?

____

Background on Bonhoeffer:

CHI -- "...Julie said she was not going to be told she couldn't go inside because the owner was Jewish, so she walked right in...They didn't dare take this elderly woman..."


Christian History -- "...Now he signed up with the German secret service (to serve as a double agent—while traveling to church conferences over Europe, he was supposed to be collecting information about the places he visited, but he was, instead, trying to help Jews escape Nazi oppression)..."

Both acts, on their own, are ambiguous.

c/p Alice the Camel

Al Maseeh Qam! Haqqan Qam!

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so they could embalm him. Very early on Sunday morning, as the sun rose, they went to the tomb. They worried out loud to each other, "Who will roll back the stone from the tomb for us?"

Then they looked up, saw that it had been rolled back—it was a huge stone—and walked right in. They saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed all in white. They were completely taken aback, astonished.

He said, "Don't be afraid. I know you're looking for Jesus the Nazarene, the One they nailed on the cross. He's been raised up; he's here no longer. You can see for yourselves that the place is empty. Now—on your way. Tell his disciples and Peter that he is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You'll see him there, exactly as he said."

They got out as fast as they could, beside themselves, their heads swimming. Stunned, they said nothing to anyone.

After rising from the dead, Jesus appeared early on Sunday morning to Mary Magdalene, whom he had delivered from seven demons.(Mark 16)

The story goes on from there.

Related:  Discussion of the historical credibility of Christ's resurrection at Thinking Christian, in fact, there's quite a bit over there.

At Magic Statistics, Easter Day.  He also posts by far the coolest list I've seen in a long time.  It shows how to say, Christ is Risen, He's Risen Indeed in a bunch of different languages.

- Leslie

Good Friday: Pilate's conundrum

Pilate believed Jesus. Believed Jesus was the Son of God. Yet what could he do, but issue the order?

"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.

Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."

[...]

As soon as the chief priests and their officials saw him, they shouted, "Crucify! Crucify!"

But Pilate answered, "You take him and crucify him. As for me, I find no basis for a charge against him."

The Jews insisted, "We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God."

When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, and he went back inside the palace. "Where do you come from?" he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. "Do you refuse to speak to me?" Pilate said. "Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?"

Jesus answered, "You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin."

From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jews kept shouting, "If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar."

[...]

"Here is your king," Pilate said to the Jews.

But they shouted, "Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!"

"Shall I crucify your king?" Pilate asked.

"We have no king but Caesar," the chief priests answered.

Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.

[...]

Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek.

The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, "Do not write 'The King of the Jews,' but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews."

Pilate answered, "What I have written, I have written. (John 18, 19)

I've been thinking a lot about the conundrum of humanity these days and Pilate is the embodiment. Christ came to die. He offered himself up as the atoning sacrificial lamb that would fulfill the Jewish law, which required the offering of a regular sacrifice to cover the sins of the people. Christ came once and for all. As outlined in the law, the High Priests brought him to the slaughter, and all that was needed was someone to sign the papers, so to speak.

And God called Pilate.

To face the impending riots and potential accusations of disloyalty to Caesar and let the Son of God live would have stood in the way of God's mighty plan. To crucify him, on the other hand, was to kill the Son of God.

What a position to be in.

Where Straight meets Crooked. Pilate looked into the face of the ugly conundrum we all pretend isn't there: when placed next to the Holy God, we cannot stand. A desperate situation at first glance, until you realize that the Creator of the Universe rendered himself vulnerable to a race of beings constantly plagued by a desire for power. The kind of power that is only safe in the hands a being with selfless purposes. Only safe in the arms of God.

(Nothing says it better than this video.)

We are all Pilate. Each living the conundrum of humanity in our own way.

And as he hung on that altar, brought by the priests and betrayed by his followers, Christ said once and for all, "Forgive them Father for they know not what they do."

One Holy Sacrifice.

- Leslie (c/p)

Road to De-Mask Us

Coming to you complete with Van Morrison and dailykos to tie it all together. Gagdad Bob has a big, interesting brain. Here's to the sun on your face:

The first and last step on the spiritual path is "repentence," which actually comes from the Greek metanoia which is simply to "turn around." Instead of turning our back to the central sun, we look around and see it face-to-face. Instead of running away from it, or struggling against it, we embrace it, like flowers that naturally orient themselves to the sun and open up in its presence.

c/p

-Leslie

Adoption, lies, liberty

Started thinking about the benefits of adoption the other day.  Over the years I've spent observing humans, I've happened across a surprising number of youngsters, coincidentally all boys, who have no idea they've been adopted.

The people who love them most, for whatever reason, have framed their entire existence in a lie.

Lies are instruments of power. The liar creates a reality which, using a vehicle of trust, alters another's perception. They choose the tune while the lied-to is oblivious to the marionette strings that make him dance. What is it about humans that are driven to lies? They tell them; they fall for them; they even keep them close by in case there is any truth to them.

Adoption is a beautiful concept. A baby is wanted. Not only wanted, but sought after. In many ways, the chase that accompanies adoption demonstrates a connection every bit as beautiful as a regular biological mother-father-child connection. Maybe even more so. Which is why I've never understood why some parents choose to turn their beloveds into marionettes. Probably they've been lied to too.

You see, adoption is an ancient concept. It is recorded in an ancient book that claims the truth is we are all wanted. Not only wanted, but sought after.  Our inheritance awaits. Francis Thompson, a recovered opium addict, he knew.

Every lie is a prison bar.  Truth is the key that unlocks the love and sets us free.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.*

- Leslie

Alice the Camel also adopted this post.

Leslie is Alice the Camel

It's the new year and I've decided to toss up another blog again.  Alice the Camel

Since unveiling Alice, I've heard rumblings from past Insomniac readers that this one's a little different.  I guess that makes sense, seeing as it's a camel that's calling the shots over there. 

Here's the first official post.  There are earlier posts too, which are a product of me fiddling around figuring out Blogger.  I'm trying to bring to light the ignored genre of  torrid camel love poetry, I explain my own role with Alice, and I offer some advice which I'll probably have to heed sooner or later.

So, welcome and....ta da!!

Leslie

Yea though they walk through the valley

This morning, thanks to QC, I saw this picture of Sgt John Gebhardt for the first time:

"Insurgents" shot this Iraqi girl in the head after shooting her parents and all her siblings in front of her.  Sgt. Gebhardt was reportedly the only one who could calm her down.  More on him at Air Force Link.

In David Warren's piece "At Last", he says this of Saddam Hussein's recent execution:

I am trying to be coldly hard-headed about this. For I’ve argued repeatedly, that war is war, and that we can’t afford to be sentimental, or meek. Indeed, it is immoral to be so, for lives are in the balance as we pause to reflect on how holy we are.

Here at Brutally Honest, there have been some pretty interesting discussions centering around Saddam's death and war and peace.  In keeping with that I'd like to submit this picture, the story that goes with it and David Warren's article as a basis to ask this question:

What is it that makes this man's arms feel so safe?

-Leslie

You Too can rejoice!!

Off in the quiet distance a dog barked, water tripled like life from a thorny Bush, while somewhere Bono sang a love song...

H/T

Cup holders save lives

I've spoken about the egregiousness of seat belts before.  When seat belt laws were coming into Alberta, common dinner table conversation went something like this:

You belt them in and they'll feel so safe they'll just drive stupider.

Stupider's a word in many countries and for those where it's not, it should be.  I digress.  When's the last time you have seen a stupid driver?  I think it's safe to say people drive stupider than before.  At any rate, I learn something new every day, and tonight as I'm reading Greg Mankiw's Blog, I have learned two things. 

First, there is an actual label to this phenomenon.  The Peltzman Effect can be neatly summed up in the above common Albertan dinner table lament.  The commoner is reluctant to label things and therefore their wisdom is often passed over.  I call this the "You've Got To Name It To Claim It Effect".

But the second thing I found out is equally interesting.  Apparently people are starting to wonder if bike helmets put you more at risk:

For years, cyclists who ride on city streets have cherished an unusual superstition: if they wear a helmet, they are more likely to get hit by a car. [...]

Walker decided to find out — putting his own neck on the line. He rigged his bicycle with an ultrasonic sensor that could detect how close each car was that passed him. Then he hit the roads, alternately riding with a helmet and without for two months, until he had been passed by 2,500 cars. Examining the data, he found that when he wore his helmet, motorists passed by 8.5 centimeters (3.35 inches) closer than when his head was bare. He had increased his risk of an accident by donning safety gear.(NYTs)

Eventually science catches up with the truth. 

Cup holders, on the other hand, are safety devices meriting legislation.  My '88 4Runner was born before cup holders were invented and sometimes my take-out carmel macchiato can become a weapon of mass destruction.  People don't realize the safety hazzard of a car with no cup holders. 

A tall wedges in my coin compartment, but no vente for me.

Which clearly increases my risk of falling asleep at the wheel!!

Cup holders save lives.

-Leslie

Bloody conservatives

On a farm there are times when the family dog will hunt down a prize of sorts and bring it triumphantly to the front porch or lawn for God and all the world to see. Things like a calf that didn't survive birthing, or better yet...the placenta!! Or a dead squirrel.  Being of a different species and having a mind full of entirely different priorities, he wags his tail loyally because he has just brought you the crown jewels.   We pat him on the head because we know he's loving us the best way he knows how.  And after the shine has worn off the trophy, we clean up the remains.  The neighbours' porches are similarly adorned and smile at the ordeal.  People who wander in from other lands look askance.

And so for you tonight dear reader, this gem found at Dust My Broom, which I lovingly think of as my dead prairie chicken on the Brutally Honest front porch.  Some will appreciate the beauty of the prize; some will think it a smelly, dead bird. You decide.

Thomas Sowell, Charleston Daily:

One of the most pervasive political visions of our time is the vision of liberals as compassionate and conservatives as less caring. It is liberals who advocate "forgiveness" of loans to Third World countries, a "living wage" for the poor and a "safety net" for all.

But these are all government policies -- not individual acts of compassion -- and the actual empirical consequences of such policies are of remarkably little interest to those who advocate them. Depending on what those consequences are, there may be good reasons to oppose them, so being for or against these policies may tell us nothing about who is compassionate or caring and who is not.

A new book, titled "Who Really Cares" by Arthur C. Brooks examines the actual behavior of liberals and conservatives when it comes to donating their own time, money, or blood for the benefit of others.

It is remarkable that beliefs on this subject should have become conventional, if not set in concrete, for decades before anyone bothered to check these beliefs against facts.

What are those facts?

People who identify themselves as conservatives donate money to charity more often than people who identify themselves as liberals. They donate more money and a higher percentage of their incomes.

It is not that conservatives have more money. Liberal families average 6 percent higher incomes than conservative families.

[...]

This is my favourite part...

Conservatives not only donate more money to charity than liberals do, conservatives volunteer more time as well. More conservatives than liberals also donate blood.

According to Professor Brooks: "If liberals and moderates gave blood at the same rate as conservatives, the blood supply of the United States would jump about 45 percent."

Professor Brooks admits that the facts he uncovered were the opposite of what he expected to find -- so much so that he went back and checked these facts again, to make sure there was no mistake.

Love me, love my chicken.

-Leslie

What would you do for $25,000?

Captain Capitalism is speaking my language as he tells all about the life of a substitute kindergarten teacher:

“OK guys, you want to play a game?”

Their eyes shot wide open, all of them, “oh yea yea!!!! We want to play a game WE WANT TO PLAY A GAME!!!!”

Using cunning reverse psychology I said,

“Oh, wait, I don’t know. On second thought it really is more of a FIRST GRADER game. Never mind, we can’t play the FIRST GRADER game.”

That alone had them eating out of my hand. Practically jumping out of their seats, borderline some of them going into cardiac arrest,

“oh oh oh!!!!! Oohhh!!! We want to play the first grader game!!!!! PLEEEEASSEEE!!!! Let us play the first grader game.”

“Wellll, I don’t know. I could get in trouble…you have to promise not to tell the teacher when she comes back.”

“OH OH!!! WE PROMISE WE PROMISE!!!!!!! WE PROMISE!!!!”

“OK, well raise you’re right hand.”

Which I didn’t foresee would be a problem with half the students.

“No, no your RIGHT hand. OK, repeat after me;

“I”

“I”

“Promise”

“Promise”

“Not to tell anybody”

“Not to tell anybody”

“We played the first grader game”

“We played the first grader game.”

Once I had their oath, I was pretty sure I’d be able to clean the room and have them in full gear and on the bus in time.

Oh yeah baby.  The whole thing is like a day in the life of Leslie.  The stories I could tell. 

My all time favourite saying over the years has been:  Please do not lick the TV when you come into my classroom.  I also had a plastic TV cart crumple and drop a huge screen TV a hairs width from the end of a cherubic grade 2 child's nose.  Walking through the boot room once after the recess bell, a little girl obliviously swung her ski pants around, lassoed me around the knees and dropped me like a tree at the feet of the principal.  A shining moment.  We laughed.  My eyes smarted. 

I took a junior high class wall climbing and even climbed to the top myself.  Paid for it the next day, but worth it.

Made 4 consecutive classes of teenagers do Tai Bo in spite of how goofy they felt.  Had to move the boys to the front row.  While making my way through the crowd to crack the whip the routine changed while I wasn't paying attention and a boy seriously smoked me in the arm.  We laughed.  My eyes smarted.

I even sub for band, which I love.  Funnily enough the band teacher often has a meeting the day the grade 5s get their instruments for the first time.  Those darn meetings'll getcha every time! Go figure.

While finishing up my teaching degree 4 years ago I prayed, "Dear God, anything but subbing."  On the whole though it has been a pretty wonderful lifestyle for me.  I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my Darwin Awards book and Uncle John's Bathroom Reader for Kids and my Koosh ball. Never leave home without them.  And, I never go shopping without seeing a kid I know and like.  Life is unbelievably precious.  The good is in the mayhem if you can remember to look for it.

So check out the rest of the Captain's post, You Suck At Suicide Bombing, and ask yourself, what is worth $25,000?

-Leslie

Rorschach Jack

Linda's jack'o lantern inspired me and realizing I can't match her knife wielding skills, I decided to go another route.  Having a gimmick can always overshadow having no talent.

So, chip chop, and on this day, Rorschach Jack emerged. Look deeply into his eyes and tell me what you see.  His eyes might reveal where my mind is since 13 inches of snow recently landed on us all at once.

Regardless, this evening I will test the neighbours' state of mind.  Mwa ha ha ha.

Happy Halloween
Leslie

Paradox of Time

Seeing as Rick needs a bit of time to catch up on things while he was away...

James Felt, S.J. in Making Sense of Your Freedom checks out the philosophy of time and it's a smidge mind bending.

There are two kinds of time:  clock time and lived time.

1. Clock time is a human construct, divided into infinitely equal parts.  The whole concept is objective and exclusive in the sense that any given minute stops and a new one starts with each tick of the hand.  Once they're over they're over and can't be relived.

2.  Lived time on the other hand is not a human construct and exists as an inclusive or subjective blending of past, present and future.  For instance, if you heard me begin speaking a sentence you would be listening with the futuristic expectation I would finish that sentence, and you'd be keeping in mind each word I said in the immediate past so that when I get to the end of the sentence you interpret my thought in the present.

Mwa ha ha ha.

There is not a definite property line of lived time, so the past-present-future connection applies to everything including, say the link between your ancestors and your present and future family.  All connected to you this minute as you go about your day.

Because we live this connection to past, present and future in clock time where every second ends with finality, our very existence is paradoxical. Sort of like treasure kept in jars of clay.

Standing at the intersection of clock and lived time is one who transcends both:

Christ died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.

Cross posted: The Insomniac

James Felt, S.J. in Making Sense of Your Freedom checks out the philosophy of time and it's a smidge mind bending.

There are two kinds of time:  clock time and lived time.

1. Clock time is a human construct, divided into infinitely equal parts.  The whole concept is objective and exclusive in the sense that any given minute stops and a new one starts with each tick of the hand.  Once they're over they're over and can't be relived.

2.  Lived time on the other hand is not a human construct and exists as an inclusive or subjective blending of past, present and future.  For instance, if you heard me begin speaking a sentence you would be listening with the futuristic expectation I would finish that sentence, and you'd be keeping in mind each word I said in the immediate past so that when I get to the end of the sentence you interpret my thought in the present.

Mwa ha ha ha.

There is not a definite property line of lived time, so the past-present-future connection applies to everything including, say the link between your ancestors and your present and future family.  All connected to you this minute as you go about your day.

Because we live this connection to past, present and future in clock time where every second ends with finality, our very existence is paradoxical. Sort of like treasure kept in jars of clay.

Standing at the intersection of clock and lived time is one who transcends both:

Christ died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.

Cross posted: The Insomniac

Pope Benedict on Social Issues

Pope Benedict said other things in Germany recently:

"The Catholic Church in Germany is outstanding for its social activities, for its readiness to help wherever help is needed," he said.  He went on to explain how bishops from developing countries are pleased with the assistance of German Catholics.  However, he recalled African bishops saying, "If I come to Germany and present social projects, suddenly every door opens. But if I come with a plan for evangelization, I meet with reservations." 

The Pope interpreted the statement saying, "Clearly some people have the idea that social projects should be urgently undertaken, while anything dealing with God or even the Catholic faith is of limited and lesser importance."

Rather, said the Pope, "evangelization itself should be foremost, that the God of Jesus Christ must be known, believed in and loved, and that hearts must be converted if progress is to be made on social issues and reconciliation is to begin, and if -- for example -- AIDS is to be combated by realistically facing its deeper causes and the sick are to be given the loving care they need." 

He summed up the point stating, "Social issues and the Gospel are inseparable."

For ages it was always to add social issues to the Gospel, and now he's reminding the church to add the Gospel to its social issues.

- Leslie

Traitors to Rock 'n Roll

Consider the words of Alice Cooper:

Alice enjoyed a brief flurry of blogosphere glory last year, after standing up to one of Australia’s smarmiest television personalities. Glib puppet Andrew Denton was easily flustered when Alice could back up his support for the war in Iraq. Denton made some typically wrong assumptions about the rock star—not that Alice was offended.

“I revel in that kind of thing,” says Alice. “It angers me so much when I realize that people are jumping on some anti-Bush bandwagon. I’ve been misquoted lately on that. Some people are claiming that I said certain rockers were traitors to America. I think they’re traitors to rock ’n roll. (ht: Relapsed Catholic)

Alienating the true spirit of rock 'n roll is something I've discussed before.  Something to think about.

The "While He Was Out" blogroll roundup

While Rick's not looking I thought it might be fun to dig around in his cupboards blogroll while he was gone.  There's some good stuff in there.

Smash over at Indepundit reports good news from Baghdad:

A senior member of al-Qaida in Iraq was killed during an operation in Baghdad this week carrying letters for Osama bin Laden and the new leader of the terrorist group’s Iraqi offshoot, an Interior Ministry official said Thursday.

In a separate announcement, the top U.S. military spokesman in Iraq said U.S. forces had arrested a senior al-Qaida terrorist and personal associate of the group’s new leader, Abu Ayyoub al-Masri.

Abu Jaafar al-Liby, who was either the second or third most important figure in al-Qaida in Iraq, was killed by police during an operation three days ago, Interior Ministry spokesman Brig. Abdul-Karim Khalaf told The Associated Press.(MSNBC)

A roundtable over at The Democratic Strategist analyzes the disconnect that exists between the Dems and the middle class. Zach over at In The Agora pulls out this quote:

Well that gets to our critique: conservatives believe the wealthy are the engine of the economy; we believe the middle class is the engine of the economy.

And then he starts asking questions. What is the engine of the American economy?

All that economics talk makes me think brutally honest commentor, Zossima, who is back blogging again.  I thought he quit, but I just discovered he's still at it which makes me dreadfully out of the loop.  Seeing as Rick is off galavanting I'll direct you to a post of Zossima's over at Forgetting Ourselves that would, if given the chance, quite possibly keep Rick and Zossima busy until the new millenium. 

On a more heart wrenching note, Michelle Malkin reports on the ugly reality of child slavery in Dubai.  Children as young as 2 are kidnapped.

All that from the top half of his blogroll.  Working my way down to the bottom of the list...

Leslie

Pay a visit...

... to Leslie and send her good birthday wishes.

Resurrect the Cry

Even though the context of this is Canadian, I hope the concept transcends borders. -- Leslie

As a rule I've never been much of a subscriber to Christian pop culture.  I've never owned a WWJD bracelet and most of the pop music kind of gags me.  That's not to say it's bad.  For some it's really great.  But for me, once you slap a slogan on something it's time to go.

So it was with a bit of a skeptical eye that I read this piece at LifeSite:

A Christian youth rally in Ottawa, organized by a group of Vancouver-based Evangelicals, attracted a crowd of nearly 5000 young people this weekend. The crowd danced to modern Christian rock music and heard speeches on the sanctity of life and the family, prayed for MP’s and spoke of reclaiming Canada for Christ.

Called Siege 4 My Canada, one of the group’s organizers, Faytine Kryskow – a singer and youth ministry leader with her own non-denominational Christian ministry – was quoted by the Canadian Press saying that the daylong prayer session was part of a growing movement to "see morality restored in Canada."

So Skepty Skepterson trots off to further fortify her sloganophobia at the Siege website.  It's just not my style.  But the concept -- the concept is one that has interested me for years.

It's Time To Resurrect the Cry To Him

One of the biggest mistakes made by people of the church today is to feel driven to fix the world's problems with human effort.  The Israelites never did this.  Whenever they drove themselves off the rails they knew exactly where to go.  They cried out for mercy and received.  I sometimes wonder if this is a defining quality of God's chosen ones.

Now, while it is vital for people to get involved in the shaping of a nation, it seems to me that followers of The Book are commanded to start their participation with worship and prayer.  It makes sense really, if we we are created beings then it would follow that the natural order of things would flow most freely when in communion with the creator. 

All that to say I've always been kind of fascinated with the freedom and peace that comes from crying out Kyrie Eleison.  Lord Have Mercy. Christ Have Mercy.  While I'm not much for the loud froo-fraa type worship event, it seems to me that resurrecting this cry on the steps of the legislature could not help but please The One who quietly waits to rain down mercy in ways greater than we can ask or imagine. 

It almost seems to me that it would be nearly impossible not to feel the presence of God while praying Kyrie Eleison on legislative grounds.  God would show up for that with his sleeves rolled up. He's got big arms.

I don't know.  Last time I visited our provincial legislature I was in grade 6.  Never been to Ottawa.

See what I mean?

...Leslie