Wolf Spider Quandery

Why is it that wolf spiders will scamper across an entire room as if they are trying to avoid you and then stop, just seconds from the safety of a crack or crevice, and wait, and wait, and wait. Are they staring back at you with eight beady eyes? Are they daring you to chase them? But then when you approach them and even stomp the floor next to them they stay right where they are in devilish defiance. Oh well, perhaps we shall never know, but that is why one of them is stuck to the bottom of my sock.

A Remarkably Timely Comic Book From 1985

The following scans are from Biblical Economics in Comics (1985) by Vic Lockman. Click on the image so you can see it full size.

Great Idea for the Next Time I Teach History

From Yahoo.com:

Teacher sorry for binding girls in slavery lesson

By JIM FITZGERALD, Associated Press Writer Jim Fitzgerald, Associated Press Writer

WHITE PLAINS, N.Y. – A white social studies teacher attempted to enliven a seventh-grade discussion of slavery by binding the hands and feet of two black girls, prompting outrage from one girl's mother and the local chapter of the NAACP. After the mother complained to Haverstraw Middle School, the superintendent said he was having "conversations with our staff on how to deliver effective lessons."

"If a student was upset, then it was a bad idea," said Superintendent Brian Monahan of the North Rockland School District in New York City's northern suburbs.

The teacher apologized to the mother who complained and her 13-year-old daughter during a meeting Thursday that also included a representative of the local NAACP. But the mother, Christine Shand of Haverstraw, said Friday she thinks the teacher should be removed from the class.

"I think the teacher should have gotten some discipline," Shand said. "I know if that was me, I would be uncomfortable going back to that class. Why should my daughter have to switch?"

Monahan refused to say what, if any, measures were taken against the teacher, Eileen Bernstein, who was still working on Friday. The school district said she was not available for comment.

"We encourage our teachers to deliver the curriculum in a variety of ways, to go beyond just reading the textbook," the superintendent said. "We don't want to discourage creativity. But this obviously went wrong because the student was upset."

On Nov. 18, Bernstein was discussing the conditions under which African captives were taken to America in slave ships. She bound the two students' hands and feet with tape and had them crawl under a desk to simulate the experience, Monahan and Shand said. Monahan said the girls were not the only blacks in the class.

Gabrielle Shand burst into tears at home, her mother said.

"There are other ways to demonstrate slavery," Christine Shand said Friday. "It doesn't matter the color of the kids, it's just not right to tie them up. My daughter is still upset, still embarrassed. She didn't go to school today."

Wilbur Aldridge, director of the local chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, said the history demonstration, first reported in The Journal News, "went wrong when she started to do that binding."

"I don't care what color, no one should be put in the position of having their hands and feet bound," he said.

Aldridge said he feared that the teacher still "didn't get it" after their meeting. He said the teacher apologized "because Gabrielle was upset, not because she admitted she did something wrong."

Shand said she had not decided whether to take any further action, including filing a lawsuit.

A Pilgrim Reality Check

Although allready three days after Thanksgiving, Pilgrims are still on the mind. I hope you enjoy the following commentary containing some things I learned while teaching US history at Logos School last year. I must credit Nathaniel Philbrick's "Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War."


A PILGRIM REALITY CHECK:
Lessons From the Pilgrims for our Current Economic and Political Affairs

Forty-five billion here, seven-hundred billion there. There isn’t any business the government won’t bailout if it’s big enough. And with the size of the figures floating around, it’s enough to make everyone dizzy. Compassionate conservatives are gushing with taxpayer money, only to be outdone by the bleeding hearts, who are, well, hemorrhaging cash. What is needed this Thanksgiving is a Pilgrim reality check. When the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth late in the year with winter coming on and no shelter, did they get a special housing bailout? And when the Pilgrims started to run out of food that first winter, was their a food bailout? No. And some of them died you say. True, but their trials certainly put our in perspective.

As my pastor, Doug Wilson, is fond of saying, when the Pilgrims came to New England, there were no jobs, just a lot of work to be done. And today, even if you lose your job or your business or your clients, there’s still a lot of work to be done, but it requires learning, the hardest work of all, learning a new profession or way of doing business or perhaps just learning to work for someone new. Certainly, we all need to learn to live within our means. We rode the bull for a long time. We stayed on, focused, and the crowd went wild, but now that we’re off, we’re going to feel the bruises. And we’re going to have to learn how to walk again. And, despite what the politicians would have us believe, this isn’t the time for wheelchairs. Of course the politicians would also have us believe that our current dilemma is really much too complicated to speak of in these terms. But is that really true? Perhaps all of our contemporary anxieties, the economy, politics and homeland security, could use a dose of Pilgrim reality. After all, they dealt with the same basic human needs that we do.

William Bradford put it elegantly, saying that when the Pilgrims landed for the first time at Provincetown Harbor, “They had now no friends to welcome them nor inns to entertain or refresh their weather-beaten bodies; no houses or much less towns to repair to, to seek for succor.” On the contrary, they had every worldly reason to fear, arriving so far north at the onset of winter, with dwindling supplies and without having even chosen a place for their settlement. Yet, when they beheld the “hideous and desolate wilderness” of the cape, as Bradford described it, they fell on their knees and thanked God. Of course they thanked Him for their survival of the journey that was past. But what better time to thank God than when they now needed Him the most, contemplating the great journey of taming the land that lay before them? Thus the Pilgrims’ economic reality consisted merely of the land, their own hands, the Indians, and the grace of God. Those last two being often one and the same.

And more than the fear of deprivation, the Pilgrims also dealt with political uncertainty. We tend to think that the separatist congregation members (the Pilgrims) were the only passengers on the Mayflower, but in fact they were just 41 of the 102 on board. And when they reached the shores of America, encountering strong winds and shoals, which prevented them from moving south to their intended destination, some among the non-Separatists (the “strangers,” as they were called) realized that their governing charter under the London Company was no longer valid and so they threatened to strike out on their own, to scatter in the time of greatest need for mutual protection and cooperation. Therefore, in the face of this weakening unity, the Pilgrim leaders drafted the Mayflower Compact, reaffirming the colonist’s unity under God and under their king, enlisting the strangers support, and fostering good will not only by their own leadership, but by their mutual submission in accordance with the Compact. For the Pilgrims, as for their nation building descendents 150 years later, it was join or die.

But furthermore there was the fear of not knowing what lay beyond the dark veil of the forest. Having entered Provincetown Harbor on a Saturday, November 11th, 1620, the next day, being Sunday, they did not embark, but held meetings and prayer. Then there was wash to do on Monday and other chores, such as fixing the shallop, the small boat for taking everyone ashore. But by Tuesday, Miles Standish couldn’t wait any longer and lead on an exploration party onto the cape. After only half a day walking down the beach they spied half a dozen Indians walking toward them, who then fled into the woods. They followed them into the forest for several days, discovering an Indian grave, in which they found a bow and arrow, and later they found a great stash of corn. And still later they discovered some sawed planks and a ship’s kettle and the remains of a blonde-haired sailor. What thoughts for their future must these discoveries inevitably brought to mind?

It is commonly thought that the Pilgrims faced no danger from the Indians when landing at Plymouth due to the plague that had recently decimated the great tribes. However the Pilgrims knew better than we of their danger from the Indians that remained, because the history of relations had not been pleasant. In 1611, the Englishman Edward Harlow abducted close to half a dozen Indians and killed at least as many. He abducted one Epenow, who later escaped with the help his tribe. And in 1614 another Englishman, Thomas Hunt took dozens of Indians captive, attempting to sell them in Spain for 20 pounds each. And just that previous summer in 1620, one Thomas Dermer was exploring the New England Coast where almost everywhere he went he was under attack, because that very spring an English ship had arrived at Narraganset Bay, invited a bunch of Indians aboard, and slew them in cold blood.

Arriving amid this regretful situation, anything could happen, and as the Pilgrims numbers dwindled that first winter with the Indians watching all around, they must have wondered what would happen as soon as they reached their weakest point. Though his tribe had but a tiny fraction of its former glory, Massasoit could still gather at least 60 braves. Thus, the Pilgrims’ reality was that they had to make every effort to “live peaceably with all men” if they wanted to survive, not without maintaining the appearance of strength to their best ability; but to maintain peace was life itself and to be sought at the cost of feeding and entertaining their “savage” neighbors on more than one occasion when they would have rather kept to themselves.

Are there not multiple lessons for us today in the Pilgrims’ venture, which was in the end incredibly successful: the establishment of a community in which they and their descendents could serve the Lord in freedom in such a bounteous land? Today, on the coasts of the 21st century, we are witnessing financial storms which prevent many of us from reaching our intended destination. But these are the least of our worries. Within our evangelical ship there are strangers, fellow Christians who do not share a vision for a faithful church in America, who walk without a common purpose, and who need our leadership. Also, there is a new chief in the area with a funny name and many young warriors, whom we have not always treated well. It is not with him that we must fight directly and certainly not on his terms. But we must fight our own errant hearts to maintain gratitude and unity amongst ourselves. And we must likewise fall on our knees and thank God for how far he has taken us and how far we have yet to go. We must ask him to grow the His covenant people in the new wilderness of America.

Conversation with a Buddhist

I went to Dallas for some training for my new job and on the way back I saw this lady walking around in the airport with only a quarter inch of gray hair and what looked like a hospital gown. I immediately thought she was a cancer patient. But then later when I boarded the plane and found myself sitting next to her, I learned that she was a Buddhist monastic, living with about 10 others in a monastery in Newport, Washington, just north of Spokane. It was actually she who struck up the conversation. I was a shy at first, thinking she might possibly have Aids and it would be embarrassing for me to ask her about her haircut and garb, but as soon as she introduced herself we talked for the entire one-and-one-half hour flight.

I asked her how she came to be a Buddhist and she said that she was a history major in college like me. She was drawn to Buddhism because its teaching made sense and helped her. Then, after she was already a Buddhist, she became deeply concerned about her own integrity. For example, she would complain about the lies of government and big business, while thinking her own little white lies wouldn’t hurt anyone. So finally she decided to seek self control through the discipline of the monastery, which in fact helped her, she said. And I could tell that she now had peaceful soul. She had walked and smiled, when I had seen her earlier, like someone at rest, resigned to her condition, not fighting the world. And given her shaved head and simple frock, her lack of care for material things couldn’t be more obvious. Yet, she wasn’t afraid to ask me about my new job and whether I thought it was honest. I liked her immediately.

I told her about the Trinity and how worshiping the Triune God allows people to live in both unity and diversity. We talked about Islam and gender roles and the role of politics in believer’s life and the history of evangelicalism in America. And we talked about Buddhism’s cyclical view of history and I asked her how such a world with no creator had any meaning. In fact it was I that most often set the course of the conversation, while she would question me at times and object gracefully at others. It occurred to me that she was probably doing what Buddhists do, which is to avoid confrontation and rather probe for weakness. She asked me how I could think of men and women in such “stereotypical” roles, but when I didn’t balk at the term, but continued to explain marriage as I had heard Doug Wilson do so many times and also continued to tell her my own experiences (not with marriage of course!), so as to remain vulnerable, we eventually began to get along quite well—me and Thubten Chodron, as she was called. The tension with which we started the conversation vanished. Yet I didn’t ask her any personal questions, because I wanted to respect her age, but toward the end of the conversation she told me that her last name had been Wilson. And she also said something very strange and telling. She said that she used to wonder why she had a body, why she should be white and born in America, why these hands and this color hair, etc. She had wanted rather to identify with the entire human race. I responded by saying that I believed God placed us in families and ethnic groups and nations for a reason and that these were something to glory in, but that our identity has countless levels. One may in one context be proud of his identity as a Wilson or a Becktell and an American and also be proud of his identity as a Westerner or a son of Adam or a creature for that matter. Everyone in fact is much more diverse, biologically speaking than we realize. Each one of us has eight great grandparents and sixteen great, great grandparents and so on.

The plane began to land and so I told her what a pleasure it was to meet her and asked if she had a Facebook. She did not, because she was worried that such means of communication would inhibit true face to face relationships. It occurred to me that living in a monastery, humming in tune with the universe might limit true face to face relationships as well, but I thought better of it. She probably has developed a number of close relationships with her peers and students.

As she left I wondered to myself and to God, whether I had been a good witness. It almost bothered me that we had gotten along so well. We shared so many of the same values, peace, simplicity and taking responsibility, and yet she believed not in God, but in “humankind,” as she would say, and humankind’s own humanity to man, our ability to recognize and alleviate the pain of others. It occurred to me that the only way I might influence her, so far along in her pursuit of “enlightenment,” was for my God to vindicate me. I had told her what I could. It was not for me to press home some uncomfortable point to a kind woman, much older than myself. There are sometimes when a Christian meets his equal in terms of someone who loves peace and wants to do what’s right and who seems self-satisfied. And perhaps only the passage of time and the manifest blessing of God on our lives can influence these.

The Florida Gang

Here we all are at St. Paul's Presbyterian Church in Orlando. This is hands down the strongest team of pest control salesmen from Moscow, Idaho, ever assembled, except perhaps for that yahoo in the middle whose pest control career may have finally met its end (praise be to God) in Florida's sultry suburban sprawl.


And by far the biggest highlight of our trip, besides walking neighborhoods nine hours a day in the sun with a heat index of 180 degrees, was meeting the West family. Mr. Andrew West works with Campus Crusade for Christ, training other staff members to raise support for their ministries. His wife Kelley helps him to raise really energetic and cheerful daughters and one seriously cool son. Thanks again, to Mrs. West especially, for your tremendous hospitality!

Ted Kooser, Career Choices, and Northerness

This is Ted Kooser, the recent Poet Laureate of the United States, serving two terms from 2004-2006. I had heard about him a while back when I was at NSA. In fact, I think that Aaron Wrench told me about him. Aaron is always interviewing some interesting celebrity and I think Aaron even asked Kooser to write him a recommendation to get into the creative writing MFA at U of I. So Ted Kooser stuck in my mind back then and I heard him again recently on NPR. Kooser writes poems that are both understandable, which I like, and poetic at the same time--Imagine that. Here's a quote in which he explains how he wants to be considerate to the "strangers of poetry," which I must admit that I mostly am:

"Every stranger's tolerance for poetry is compromised by much more important demands on his or her time. Therefore, I try to honor my reader's patience and generosity by presenting what I have to say as clearly and succinctly as possible .... Also, I try not to insult the reader's good sense by talking down; I don't see anything to gain by alluding to intellectual experiences that the reader may not have had. I do what I can to avoid being rude or offensive; most strangers, understandably, have a very low tolerance for displays of pique or anger or hysteria. Being harangued by a poet rarely endears a reader. I am also extremely wary of over cleverness; there is a definite limit to how much intellectual showing off a stranger can tolerate." - Midwest Quarterly, 1999

Another thing about Kooser that piqued my interest is that he worked in insurance for many, many years, I think until he retired, first as a salesman and then as the vice president of a company. And he was still able after all of that mind-numbing sales and administrative work to be creative. My passion is studying and interpreting history, but I often feel that my skills as a reader, teacher, writer and public speaker are not such as to earn me much of a living or allow me much time to give to a future family while earning it, therefore I take comfort that history and perhaps even some success in writing or teaching may be waiting for me when I retire from a more regular sort of job.

Here is just one poem of Kooser’s, which I pulled off his website, tedkooser.com, entitled "Flying at Night:"

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.

That poem is about what C.S Lewis called "northerness," the consciousness of great spaces or distances, the stars above and the earth beneath, even great caverns in the earth beneath and the molten core of the earth and the space on the other side and the fact that the earth is suspended in space. It's enough to give one vertigo. I wish that I would spend more time thinking about such things than I do. It puts career choices in perspective, a very healthy sort of thought. But of course, unless we are going to be ungrateful existentialists, the thought cannot stop there. The conclusion of such thoughts is that God is great. God can span all of those distances between his thumb and pinky.

The Importance of Chant

I went to disputatio today at NSA to hear Dr. David R. Erb--from Trinity Church in Kirkland Washington, a Reformed evangelical church--who is candidating for being NSA's new music professor and choir director. My first concern was whether there would be enough work at Christ Church for Mark Reagan to stay in town. Fortunately, there will be. If Erb is hired then Mark will focus on training the congregation. And if I know Mark, he will probably use the lighter workload to further pursue his education.

Anyway, this Erb guy seems like a good sport. He even came out to play at NSA basketball game. Erb spoke about chants, something very foreign to the vast majority of contemporary American churches, yet something integral to the Christian tradition. American church music today, stylistically speaking, is a no-man’s-land. It has no distinguishable features to relate it to the great tradition of western sacred music or even the music of the early church. However, one thing that all sacred music has had in common through the centuries, whether that of the early Christian synagogues or that of the medieval churches and monasteries, is chant. Chanting the psalms more directly connects the congregation with scripture than do most “praise choruses” and liturgical chants allow the service to proceed by singing, which is more glorious than just speaking. Erb began his talk by quoting Zephania 3:14-17.

(14)Sing, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel; be glad and rejoice with all the heart, O daughter of Jerusalem. (15)The LORD hath taken away thy judgments, he hath cast out thine enemy: the king of Israel, even the LORD, is in the midst of thee: thou shalt not see evil any more. (16)In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not: and to Zion, Let not thine hands be slack. (17)The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.

God not only commands us to sing, but He himself sings about us. Thus, singing is extremely important for those who would be followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. Historically, Christian services were often entirely composed of singing. The creeds were sung. Scripture as well was chanted, not merely read, and even sermons were chanted. Martyn Loyd-Jones was the last of the Scottish sermon chanters.

Erb would like to see a revival of chant, not in the same way it was sung during the Middle Ages, but new renditions of the Psalms, which may be half sung and half chanted. We need to draw on the chants when putting the Psalms to music and knowing them will also make the music of the masters (Bach and Mozart and Durufle, etc.) much more relevant and understandible.

This is certainly not a perfect summary of what Dr. Erb said; nevertheless, I thought he was compelling. My guess is that they'll probably hire him.

First Logos Snow Day in 12 Years!

Hans and Noai Leidenfrost invited everyone to a sledding party on Robbinson Hill, but the ride to the bottom was so bumpy that Jeremiah L. and others began to build this fort. From left to right: Jeff M., Ben N., Noai L.


I have to admit that I felt somewhat guilty working on this fort when everyone else in town was laboring to get their houses and cars free from the mounds of snow! But hey, to everything there is a season.


Here is the fort as far as we were able to complete it on Thursday afternoon. The photo is grainy because I had to increase the contrast. The left wall is taller than I am (6'3"). Hopefully someone will finish the project. Way to go Jeremiah Leidenfrost for starting this fort!

18 Inches of Snow - Whump!

This is the view from the front of my small apartment complex. It's one of the most interesting places I've ever lived because all of the apartments are studios. Since everyone lives alone, we're all much more prone to make friends with each other than if we all had roomates. One particular guy named Matt is very, very cool, one of the most friendly people I've ever met. He enjoys watching the Simpsons whenever he's not sleeping and he always has his door open, so you can stop by and watch with him whenever you want. He and his buddies (about 5 of them) live here and give the place a dormatory atmospher. Anyway, these are my friends cars here after the snow. As you can see they haven't tried to dig them out and it's already been a day since it snowed.


Could it be that they were preoccupied with something else. Hey, what's that big, white lump there, about 30 yards away?


Wow! It's a fort! This is the coolest studio apartment complex ever! (Ouch, my tongue just got stuck in my cheek.)


As you can tell by the level of light in this interior photo, the snow and chickenwire ceiling on this igloo is not very thick. Fortunately, they built this column in the center to help hold it up.

Voting With the Gut

I just heard Stephen Colbert (a Comedy Central news show host) speaking at the White House Press Correspondent's dinner with George Bush in attendance. It’s amazing that a guy can speak the way he did just 10 feet away from the leader of the most powerful nation on earth—stinging satire of what George Bush is all about! It’s a testament both to the greatness of our freedom of speech and the greatness of our contempt for authority in these times. That being said, I happened to agree with some of what he was saying. He makes fun of how stupid and uninformed the average American can be as they support political candidates. He said satirically that he identifies with the president; they both make decisions from the gut. He said, “did you know that there are more nerve endings in your gut than in your head?” How does he know? His gut told him.

Anyway, my gut told me that I needed to make another blog post. My last one was starting to embarrass me. That’s the only reason I make new blog posts now, when the old one becomes so old that it’s unbearable even to its proud creator. Why have a blog then? Well, I suppose I enjoy having a presence online even if it’s only a tiny, stagnant, watering hole in the middle of a desert. Occasionally people stumble upon my blog, though they may refrain from drinking after glancing at the date stamp. Dried algae colors the ground around my pool. But the blog does let people know that I occasionally think something. About once every three months to a year I will think something. The rest of the time my mind is of course completely blank. My gut, on the other hand, is always working.

In addition to six strips of very thick, Winco Foods bacon, my gut today was mulling over that great crusader Ron Paul. Actually what happened was that Peter Roise, a local supporter of Ron Paul in Moscow, called me up to let me know that the Washington caucus is occurring on February 9th. And, as I am one of those few people that hop on the new Palouse superhighway over to Pullman every night, he thought I should know about this.

Now I’ve liked Ron Paul ever since I heard about him. I voted for Allan Keys who had some of the same ideas back in 2000. It’s a shame that the conservative talk show hosts are against him. I heard one host say that half the time Paul sounds crazy and the other half of the time he sounds like Daffy Duck. But originally I when I learned about Paul, I thought, this guy could never be elected, so I became rather taken with Huckabee instead.

There was one YouTube interview in which Tim Russert asked Huckabee about a statement in his book about homosexuals. It seems that Huckabee had lumped Homosexuals into a list with pedophiles in a single sentence in his book. I don’t remember his exact words to Russert, but he didn’t back down. He said there was a difference between pedophilia and homosexuality, but that they are both sin from a Christian perspective. And he also said that when Christians speak about sin they are referring to “missing the mark.” His point being that Christians, like himself, don’t make a distinction between the sinners in the world and the sinless people, we’re all sinners. He seemed to represent the faith well and that’s why I thought he would be a good president. I mean, not that the presidents primary job is to witness to people, but give me a brake! I'm an evangelical here! If we didn't have a Christian president, then I might actually have to look to my Pastor for spiritual leadership. I just had that gut feeling about Huckabee. “There’s just something about him” and he plays the bass guitar.

However, since receiving the phone call from Peter and thinking that perhaps Ron Paul is in this for the long haul, having raised more money than Huckabee, I logged onto Paul's website and watched his January 27 video about how the campaign was going and I have to tell you that that was the first time that Paul spoke to me in the gut. He was so honest in the way he evaluated the success of his campaign. He said that he had no plans of leaving the race until his support died out and that as long as his supporters were enthusiastic, he was in it for the long haul. He had several young people around him in his office as he delivered this message, representing the thousands of young supporters that will listen to it online. He encouraged his idealistic followers, but didn’t lie to them. He said he didn’t know the future. It was great. I was touched. I became a Ron Paul supporter in my gut and not just my head! (Am I jerking any tears out there?)

There’s no question that Ron Paul is the stellar candidate, a real, live, honest politician. A new species, if there ever was one. He has risen out of the primordial goo of politics, not to mention the primordial goo of my blog, and proven evolution true for the first time. Now if we all could just prove the Revolution true! Go Ron Paul!

I like Mike

Okay, so I know that the ability to play the bass guitar is not necessary for being president, but I just like Mike Huckabee! In fact, I've been on a political binge (I don't consider politics to be normal healthy fair) for the past couple of days, as people have been voting in Iowa. I've listened to all of the youtube clips and other media that you can find on the candidate's websites and, although Ron Paul is the favorite of many of my respected friends, he just seems too shrill to ever be elected president. I've been to a Ralph Nader ralley before and listening to Ron Paul reminds me of being at a Nader ralley.

Huckabee on the other hand is so likeable! Huckabee reminded me of a certain feeling I had as a kid when watching TV at election time, the feeling of excitement that I really, really like a certain candidate and that I think he really could win. That's the feeling that I had listening to Huckabee and I think its all because he's an unashamed Christian.

I love the way he spoke on Meet the Press, defending a quote in his book about homosexuality. Click on the link above.