Rush Hour

Three girls in our house (Older Daughter, Middle Daughter, and Friend Visiting for Sleepover) have been avidly playing "Rush Hour", a game that I find quite challenging myself.

It is essentially a little problem solving logic puzzle, and I remember doing such puzzles when being tested for a free flow education environment my public school offered called "Challenge". I was nervous going to my school on a Saturday morning for the entrance exam (ironic because once admitted to "Challenge", there were no grades, just a free form classroom environment). In fact, I thought my dad was dropping me off at the front gate, and so I undid my seatbelt and opened the door, only to be pitched out onto the tarmac as he swung left into the parking spot he was aiming towards.

Anyway, that was the last IQ test I took, and I guess the somersault out of the car must've helped the result. In "Challenge", a teacher was perplexed by my friends and I seeking out world domination in a scenario he set up as sort of a pre-computer version of Sim City. We had grown up on the board game "Risk" after all...

Back to Rush Hour. My brother-in-law was the first to tackle the "Grand Master" level, and said that his trick was to reason backwards. By this he meant that he looked where the little car had to go in the puzzle, and what needed to happen to get it there. (He's a successful consultant, unsurprisingly).

But reasoning backwards is also a good way to consider the Christian life. The apostles do this (e.g., Paul (Colossians 3), Peter (1 Pet 1:3-13), John (1 John 2:15-17) and James (James 4:13-16)) consistently -- urge us to consider our end destination, and take the steps going backward from that to see what choices we make today.

This is not only faithful but wise. It is the secure future of a Christian that encourages him or her in the pressure faced today. Rather than being pie in the sky thinking, it turns out that reasoning backwards from eternity makes for a very practical framework for decisions. Even for patience in the midst of rush hour...


Some words from "Before the Throne of God Above" (click the title for a musical link) by Charitie Bancroft:

Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.


One in Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood,
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!

A moment to consider the blog

I set out to record some thoughts on this blog. Especially those thoughts that consider life today in the perspective of eternity.

Just as I am wondering if this is a good use of time, a technical aspect of the blog world came my way with food for thought. The blogging system tells me that 230 different people have looked at ChristChurchCurate in February. It doesn't tell me who they are, but where they live, and how they got to the blog.

The way most people got here was by searching my name, Christ Church NYC and the following phrases: "Richard Wilbur Barred Owl" and "Burgermeister Meisterburger". I find that wonderful.

So, I'll keep this going a few more months and then check in again. Until then, hello to the readers, mainly New Yorkers, but also to whoever you are in Singapore, England, Germany, Brazil, the United Arab Emirates and Japan!

Come to think of it, that's kind of a picture of heaven: every tribe, tongue and nation will be gathered around the throne of God (singing, not surfing the internet).



A moment of self-reflection: click on the title of this post to see a few seconds on the death of newspapers, to which I am no doubt contributing, reading only the newspaper on the weekends and getting news from the internet the rest of the week...

Sheep Health Classes aka The Reformed Pastor

There's been considerable interest in the Anglican church I serve (Christ Church NYC) among students in colleges and seminaries, and in the past week the Rector and I have been interviewed by a few such eager folks. They are interested in an Anglican church in Manhattan, as well as our work among Wall Street folks, and so forth. It may have something to do with the fact we are a fairly young church but one that doesn't use postmodern lingo. While we are an intentionally missional Anglican expression of being church, we pretty much avoid that kind of language.

I found one interview encouraging, with a delightful woman from Westminster Seminary yesterday asking me about the discipleship challenges presented by the context of Manhattan. I was saying how our structures have a long way to go, but in fact I hope we never offer tons and tons of programs on weekday evenings, believing that this inevitably just draws people into a Christian ghetto and makes family life harder. I also shared that I meet up with men and also go around to visit families one evening a week.

This aspect of "pastoral visiting" was impressed on me through personal experience, and also through an Anglican bishop, Wallace Benn, who encouraged ministers to "visit their parish" along the lines of the puritan Richard Baxter, who wrote The Reformed Pastor.

Baxter wrote this on visiting families:

"Go occasionally among them, when they are likely to be most at leisure, and ask the master of the family whether he prays with them, and reads the Scripture, or what he doth? Labor to convince such as neglect this, of their sin; and if you have opportunity, pray with them before you go, and give them an example of what you would have them do."


A good friend of mine has struggled with the issue of family worship. Struggled both in the sense of doing it, but also as to whether Baxter was right to call the neglect of it sinful. Do you have any experience of this? My own is that praying and reading the Bible with my wife and children is pretty much a layup in terms of getting value for time spent. But I do find it hard to do myself, with the giant television given to us there in the room to take my attention! When the Authoress takes the initiative, I feel acutely that I should have done so but am thankful she has, or humbled if Number One Son crawls into my lap as he did last night clutching a Bible story.

Even so, I am not sure I am convinced that the Bible commands family worship, even if it assumes it takes place given the role of the father in Judaism. Regardless, whenever we have this pattern in our home, it is like oil running down Aaron's beard.

For the younger end of the age range, the Jesus Storybook Bible has been a great recent find with our kids.

Whaddya think?

The church I serve, through the amazing ability of a fellow minister of the Gospel who has techno skills, is revamping the design of our website (to bring it out of the 1990's). Along with that, we have a new office address in the past few months, and so have the opportunity to bring our stationery up to date.

You may be asking: "What's this mundane office/address stuff have to do with me?"

Good question. Here's the issue--- What do you think of this logo? What does it say to you, if anything. Maybe "fingerpainting"!

Do tell.

On Solitude

"Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself." Franz Kafka.

Is Kafka right? I am not a writer but am married to one who is also a voracious reader, like her mother, and like her oldest daughter (jury is out on other kids so far).

It seems that writers, even when introspective, are reflecting the world around them, particularly their human interactions. Is one truly in the descending into oneself when the experiences of life and other people have shaped that abyss? Maybe.

I was thinking about this as I prep a sermon for Sunday evening on Mark 1, in which Jesus cleanses a leper (come on Sunday to learn why I say "cleanse" instead of "heal"...). Just prior to this cleansing, an act of wonderful compassion, Jesus was alone in a desolate place praying.

And Jesus is noted for going off by himself whenever the crowds pressed in on him. In this case, he leaves a successful gig in Capernaum and moves on to other towns. He states his mission was to preach the Gospel.

But back to his solitude. He wasn't really alone. He was praying, that is, experiencing communion with the Father. So I think in this sense Jesus was never really alone in these times of "solitude". The only real solitude he ever experienced was on the Cross, when he bore the sin of the world, and cried out in a loud voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?". The ultimate agony for God's eternal Son was separation from the Father.

It would seem true to say that a Christian, who by definition experiences constant fellowship with God (by means of the Holy Spirit), is never really alone.

Don't get me wrong: Solitude is good, for reflection, and prayer to the Father just as Jesus sought out himself. And simply to think.

But it must be a qualitatively different experience than what Kafka describes -- the abyss of himself.

I do like to be off by myself sometimes, particularly doing something physical like rowing (years ago now), working on something outside, running, or downhill skiing (again, doesn't happen much). And I know that giving little bits of solitude to the Authoress is a great gift indeed.

We are not made to be alone, it turns out. Those who know Christ will be among countless others around the throne of God for eternity -- Comfort to many experiencing loneliness in this city of several million. And comfort to me as I write this in a room alone, awaiting a colleague to open the door to our office having forgotten my keys...

Barred Owl

Back to Richard Wilbur, and the thin volume of more recent poems that sits atop my bookshelf, "Mayflies".

This was the first poem I heard Wilbur read:

"A Barred Owl" by Richard Wilbur

The warping night-air having brought the boom
Of an owl's voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking of us, if rightly listened to,
"Who cooks for you?" and then "Who cooks for you?"

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,
Can also thus domesticate a fear,
And send a small child back to sleep at night
Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight
Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw
Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.


Two observations:

1. There is a beauty here in the means a parent has to console a child. In the urban setting of Manhattan, when a child was frightened by the enormous sound of a truck's horn at night, I said we could imagine it was a ship's horn at night in the fog and a story about that ship and where it was sailing brought consolation and sleep.

2. As I look at Wilbur's poetry against his mentor Robert Frost, I think that both are masters of observing the beauty and personality of natural things. Frost is probably more in tune with introspection as he relates to natural beauty, while Wilbur brings the realm of natural beauty to bear in human relationships. I'm not sure, but I think that Wilbur is sort of better with people as I read his poems.

If I were to draw a line from Frost's beliefs to his poetry, it is that he did not experience the love of God personally. He stated he feared but did not know God in a 1947 letter to a friend: "My fear of God has settled down into a deep and inward fear that my best offering may not prove acceptable in his sight."

In interviews Wilbur has identified himself as a Christian but not as one who writes poetry on matters of doctrine (much) as did, for example, TS Eliot in his later work. But it is interesting that the affection that Wilbur has for the material world is often linked with the depth of human relationships amidst the beauty of the world.

I don't say Frost or Wilbur couldn't have written another way, but they do notice different things from the same New England landscapes. It makes me wonder if the different worldviews, thoughts on eternity, and views of God by these two connected poets is significant to that.

What do you think? Any Frost fans out there?

Psychology of Whit Stillman

Today I read an article from a 1998 Psychology Today interview of filmmaker Whit Stillman.

Do you know his films? In short, he has preppy people as the characters in his films, those who are generally parodied in films like Caddyshack and so forth. The films contain great conversations and a witty look-in on a subculture. But the great insight is that these people are human beings and so subject to the fears and hopes of every other person.

This plays out for them through the problem of the American dream. By problem I mean this:
Those who start at the top have very little chance of moving up -- so in a way, to succeed is to simply maintain one's position (financially, in the social pecking order, whatever). It's more likely that preppy people (true preppies, I mean, whose families are in the social register and all that -- and I am not one) will go down -- that is, fail to meet the great deeds of their forebears.

The world has changed and it is too competitive for even the well connected to assume their position is secure -- there are no fewer easy ways into the best schools and so on. (Maybe another posting on how the standards of success have thus subtly shifted is in order, but not today). For now, you may want to read this interview and click on the title of this post to see the clip of the film. And here's one taste for you:

JOSH

If you examine "fables" closely--Aesop, for instance--there's often something a little contrived about them, a little dishonest. Take "The Tortoise and the Hare." Okay, the tortoise won one race. But--do you think that hare is really going to lose any more races to turtles? Not on your life. By limiting the fable to an absurdly small frame--one race--a bogus lesson is learned--and then for centuries taught young people the world over.

ALICE

I liked that tortoise...

JOSH

So do I--"Virtue rewarded" and all that. But if you were a betting person, would you say that "turtle won against the hare--in future races, I'm backing him." No. It'd be absurd. That race was almost certainly a fluke. Afterwards, the tortoise is still a tortoise, the hare still...a hare.

(the interview: www.psychologytoday.com/articles/index.php?term=19980501-000023&page=1)

Silver Lining to the Slump?

The church is people, not buildings, but the people still need a place to meet.

Looking at some real estate for the next congregation that Christ Church NYC wants to plant, we saw some very well located space in Manhattan. There was serious conversation about paying $10 per square foot for it.

That's not missing a zero. Elsewhere in the city, rents can begin at $100/sq ft.

So the massive blowout for companies here might make it possible for the church to offer more for folks who have been laid off! I can't decide if this is ironic, wonderful or sad, or all three.

But I think I've been spending too much time looking at office space, space for the church to meet, etc. The last time I looked at the descriptions of the New Jerusalem in Rev 21, I thought, wow, Grade A space!

Strength in Weakness

At some Bible studies this week, I'll be leading discussions on Judges 6-8, the account of Gideon. Like every hero in the Old Testament, you can't really follow his life as a model of faith in an unqualified way. There are great moments of trust in God, and boldness, but the man didn't really finish well. His family was a terrible mess, and that played out at the end of his life and into the next generation. The wealth he accumulated from his great early success proved to be a snare for him, and others, too.

Yet overall Gideon is a great example of faith -- because God's power was shown through Gideon's weakness. So we learn from his triumphs as well as being warned by his falls. And more importantly, we get an early glimpse of how God operates.

As Paul wrote later, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

Last chance to try for the book -- my blog tells me many people have looked at the quotation, but no one has felt bold enough to give a guess! Read up on Gideon and get inspired for boldness...

Free Book

Theological Quiz: Name the Reformer

Who wrote this (and try to answer without help from Google!) in a debate on the nature of the Christian life and ministry?

No one should at the same time say yes and no about the same thing, unless he be an utter ignoramus or a desperate scoffer.

That is what my Antinomians, too, are doing today, who are preaching beautifully and (as I cannot but think) with real sincerity about Christ's grace, about the forgiveness of sin and whatever else can be said about the doctrine of redemption. But they flee as if it were the very devil the consequence that they should tell the people about the third article, of sanctification, that is, of the new life in Christ. They think one should not frighten or trouble the people, but rather always preach comfortingly about grace and the forgiveness of sins in Christ, and under no circumstances use these or similar words, "Listen! You want to be a Christian and at the same time remain an adulterer, a whoremonger, a drunken swine, arrogant, covetous, a usurer, envious, vindictive, malicious, etc.!" Instead they say, "Listen! Though you are an adulterer, a whoremonger, a miser, or other kind of sinner, if you but believe, you are saved, and you need not fear the law. Christ has fulfilled it all!"

Tell me, my dear man, is that not granting the premise and denying the conclusion? It is, indeed, taking away Christ and bringing him to naught at the same time he is most beautifully proclaimed! And it is saying yes and no to the same thing. For there is no such Christ that died for sinners who do not, after the forgiveness of sins, desist from sins and lead a new life. Thus they preach Christ nicely with Nestorian and Eutychian logic that Christ is and yet is not Christ. They may be fine Easter preachers, but they are very poor Pentecost preachers, for they do not preach "about the sanctification by the Holy Spirit," but solely about the redemption of Jesus Christ, although Christ (whom they extoll so highly, and rightly so) is Christ, that is, he has purchased redemption from sin and death so that the Holy Spirit might transform us out of the old Adam into new men-we die unto sin and live unto righteousness, beginning and growing here on earth and perfecting it beyond, as St. Paul teaches (Rm 6- 7). Christ did not earn only "grace," for us, but also "the gift of the Holy Spirit," so that we might have not only forgiveness of, but also cessation of, sin. Now he who does not abstain from sin, but persists in his evil life, must have a different Christ, that of the Antinomians; the real Christ is not there, even if all the angels would cry, "Christ! Christ!" He must be damned with this, his new Christ.


The first correct guess wins a book! Jeremiah Burroughs' (1599-1546) "Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment"-- As a hint, Burroughs quotes this Reformer in his book.

The honor system on not using internet help in place...take a guess and see how you do!

In amazement at all She does

With thanks to Mark Meynell, who posted it on his blog, click on the title of this post to view an amazing video ("Her Morning Elegance). It shows something, not sure what it means entirely, but it is attractive to me for two reasons:

1. I've always been fascinated with the prospect of stop-motion photography. How life in motion is really made up of singular moments. One can see some embarrassing videos linked to my facebook profile for proof of this interest...

2. The Authoress has been caring for ill children this week, finished a few thousand words on her next book, visited a dear friend who was hurting, ran the household, made homemade coffeecake this morning, and a myriad of other things in addition to showering me and the children with love and companionship. In short, she seems to do these many things well. And it amazes me because I can only get frustrated when pulled in different directions, while she handles it gracefully and graciously.

So I'm thankful.

For all she does, but more for who she is, and Who she loves (who gave her to me, if you follow).

Marking the stages of life

I recently turned 38 and had a nice birthday with all the trimmings. In our home that means home-made birthday cards from my kids declaring their love, a steak dinner and the foods I enjoy by the amazing Authoress and a new Johnny Cash CD. I am thankful!

I notice that many feel sadness as they mark their increasing age. I did one year, in my early 20's, I think. My theory is that being bummed out by turning a particular age shows a lack of satisfaction with life at that time rather than with the age itself.

Anyway, rather than with numbers, life events seem to mark the life stages. And right now, I am very excited about the prospect of improving my family's dental coverage as orthodontics looms on the horizon. So whether 38 years old is a marker, or the beginning of middle age, or whatever it might be, the big idea for me is that I will soon be entering the "Father Paying For Braces" stage of life...for years to come!

I always want to bring these life observations back to the eternal. So here is one purely for speculation and silliness: Jesus ate after his resurrection. And there will be eating in heaven, I take, given that there is a fruit tree in the middle of the New Jerusalem, and the whole thing is likened to a great banquet. What will teeth be like? Any thoughts? Pearly whites only within the Pearly Gates, maybe...

Incidentally, Jesus was resurrected on the Festival of First Fruits, i.e., the first Easter Sunday. The Apostle Paul thus calls his resurrection the first fruits of the resurrection for all in Christ. Did you know that? Neat.

On His Blindness

The Authoress is going to write a book "on demand", to fit in with a series of other books her publisher is coordinating. The main character of this book is an RAF pilot who will, over the course of the story, lose his sight and become completely blind. On hearing the idea, I mentioned with some excitement that the Authoress could work into the story a reference to one of her favourite poems, John Milton's "On Blindness". I realised that I had not read it in a very long time, and did so.

It took awhile for this Bear of Very Little Brain to work out quite what Milton meant. But I think I have it. What do you think Milton intends as he reflects on his own blindness? And what is your favourite line? In the hubbub of our modern lives, the Authoress selects "they also serve who stand and wait."

John Milton. 1608–1674

318. On His Blindness

WHEN I consider how my light is spent
E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present	5
My true account, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts, who best	10
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.

A Man Who Dislikes Beer

With my sister and her delightful daughter visiting us briefly, we came up with "Alice's Tea Cup" as a quick morning experience that would be rather nice for a little girl visiting Manhattan.

It was neat to see my niece (one of thirteen, and nine nephews) swing up not only a fine china teacup, but also a mug (filled with hot cocoa) nearly as big as her head. I enjoyed the scone with cream and jam, and reflected on why the pleasures Alice's Tea Cup offers are thought to be especially for women.

I like beer. I like cigars. I like single malt scotch (The Cragganmore, if you're buying...). I like watching sports, mostly live rather than on tv. But I really don't like doing any of those things when men are doing them to be self-consciously manly. It evaporates my enjoyment of those things entirely. There is even an odd Christian subculture of doing supposedly manly things like this and it comes off as posing -- what the surfers I met in La Jolla, California described derisively of those who surfed for show rather than the simple pleasure of it.

So I admire more a man I know who, in the days when Mad Men was set, went into a tough bar and ordered a glass of milk. Because he doesn't like beer, and doesn't care what the other guys at the bar thought of him.

That's manly.

Of course, this leads me to consider my own vanity. I'd rather have a suntan than not, and the adage "you can tell a lot about a man from his shoes" has probably affected my footwear choices once or twice. I do plenty of things to appear cultured, intelligent, sound (in my settings, having the right views on theology) and am not worried about appearing macho, so maybe a post about each of those is in order. But until then, I'll have a milk, please.

Richer Wine and Marriage

A friend and former colleague used to work in London, and said that he had to convey the truth of Christianity to those whose lives, they felt, were going quite nicely. He called it a "Theology of Claret" (which means a nice red wine, a Bordeaux).

There were two parts to this, matching the aims of Gospel preaching: "to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."

The task of bringing to mind the goodness of God is one aspect, that life lived with Him is different than life without Him. It will include sorrow and persecution (that's a promise from Jesus), but it is also life that "may richer, fuller be" as the hymn goes.

The other task is to tackle what I must this weekend, which is the preaching of the Law of God such that it brings conviction of the hidden sin to those who are outwardly moral, even or especially those within the Church visible.

But as to the first, that Jesus stated his purpose was to bring life, and life to the full, I turn once again to Richard Wilbur, who gave this toast as his son's wedding:

St. John tells how, at Cana's wedding feast,
The water-pots poured wine in such amount
That by his sober count
There were a hundred gallons at the least.

It made no earthly sense, unless to show
How whatsoever love elects to bless
Brims to a sweet excess
That can without depletion overflow.

Which is to say that what love sees is true;
That this world's fullness is not made but found.
Life hungers to abound
And pour its plenty out for such as you.

Now, if your loves will lend an ear to mine,
I toast you both, good son and dear new daughter.
May you not lack for water,
And may that water smack of Cana's wine. 

Do Christians seem to possess joy, or go around with faces downcast?

I think that heaven relates to both of these aspects, because it will be a great banquet, the joy of the ultimate wedding feast. It will also be the place where (as Daughter Number Two will sing lustily) "sickness, sorrow, pain and death are felt and feared no more".

Philosophy, Time & Poetry

Greek primordial deity Χρόνος (Chronos) strikes the hours on this pocket watch.


Time is a tricky thing to grasp. Intellectually, I mean. It seems to be easily measured in objective terms, but hard to nail down philosophically. (Do keep in mind that I am ignorant of quantum physics, which questions whether time exists at all). Because the present is, as St Augustine, described, following Greek philosophers of nearly a thousand years earlier, on the knife-edge between the past and present. He wrote "in te, anime meus, tempora metior" (in you, my mind, I measure time). He meant that the present was something that could not be grasped, and that his mind measured his impression of any moment: "I do not measure the things themselves whose passage occasioned the impression; it is the impression that I measure when I measure times. This therefore is either what times are, or I do not measure them" (as quoted in Augustine and the limits of virtue by James Wetzel, Cambridge Univ Press).

There are objective means of measuring time, of course, such as the movement of planets, or today, the movement of electrons. But this knowledge does not change that our perception affects our experience of time.

My father-in-law has written about the nature of exponential versus linear change, and uses our perception of time as an example:

Consider a very simple example – our perception of time. “A second is a second is a second”, we say. So time must be “linear”, that is, it is not accelerating. A second when we are 65 is the same as a second when we are 5. There is no acceleration there.

If that is true, then why do we feel that time is moving faster as we get older? “I can’t believe another year has gone by”, we say, as we get older. Have you ever heard a child say that? Most of us pass that off as “one of those funny things in life”.

When I am 5, one year is one year, but it is 20% of my life. When I am 50, one year is still one year, but now it is only 2% of my life. So, for me, at age 50, time has sped up. Time itself may not have sped up, but, time, for me, is accelerating.

source: http://29thday.org/book/chapter.php?chapter=1

That interests me because it accepts the objective nature of time but shows how it is inherent to our nature (as beings who live in time) to perceive the passage of time differently over the course of our lives. This shows itself in many ways, such as the clarity of my memory of certain events, or the existence of dozens of musical albums from adolesence but few since then.

What benefit is there to realizing the passage of time is "felt" differently over the course of our lives? I suppose that as we age, we get the slightest glimpse of what it is to have eternity as our experience. To have plans come to fruition over centuries rather than years, or quarters as the financial markets demand.

The Bible recognizes that God's eternal nature gives him a different view of time than his limited creatures, so Psalm 90:

For a thousand years in your sight
are but as yesterday when it is past,
or as a watch in the night.

What do you think, dear reader? How has your experience of time changed over the years? Had you in mind what your life would be in 2010? What poet captures the subjective experience of time best? Do tell.

Philosophy, Time & Poetry

Time is a tricky thing to grasp.

Intellectually, I mean. It is easily measured in objective terms, but hard to nail down philosophically. A simple example is how tricky it is to define the present, because time, as the hymn says, "like an ever rolling stream bears all its sons away". That is, it moves forward so that there is, in a sense, never any "now" that can be pinpointed.

Experientially, time is trickier still.

A philosophy professor of mine noted how time "slows down" when an athlete is in the zone. That's an experience most athletes have experienced, how the intensity of the sport (particularly competition) puts a focus on that time. I think I remember the six minutes of rowing races more than the sixty hours of practice that preceded those.

People remember their wedding day, the birth of a child, intense experiences of joy as well as grief (particularly violence) in a special way. So while we know time is linear, we don't quite experience that way. Wasn't it Poe who called sleep "little slices of death"?

Another poet, the subject of recent postings, has some great insights to offer. Again, here is Richard Wilbur, this time in the recent issue of the New Yorker magazine, a subscription of which my most excellent sister gave as a welcome to Manhattan gift:

Anterooms

by Richard Wilbur (New Yorker, January 5, 2009)

Out of the snowdrift

Which covered it, this pillared

Sundial starts to lift,

Able now at last

To let its frozen hours

Melt into the past

In bright, ticking drops.

Time so often hastens by,

Time so often stops—

Still, it strains belief

How an instant can dilate,

Or long years be brief.

Dreams, which interweave

All our times and tenses, are

What we can believe:

Dark they are, yet plain,

Coming to us now as if

Through a cobwebbed pane

Where, before our eyes,

All the living and the dead

Meet without surprise.

What has your experience been -- has an instant ever dilated for you? Or long years been brief?

Maybe we'll look again at this poem from another angle. But what he says about time has a lot of truth. On the theme of heaven and infinite time (or eternity beyond linear time), I have always been amazed to ponder the last verse of Amazing Grace: "When we've been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise, then when we first begun."

Yesterday, Today and Forever the same...

It never ceases to amaze me how the Bible interacts with current events. That is, a long-planned out series of scripture studies seems to be just the right passage for what is happening in the news. The first rector I served under spoke of "God's Word interpreting God's world", and that's been my experience.

In the autumn, a series of discussions were planned on the Wisdom literature in the Bible, and it happened that Proverbs on the subject of wealth, identity and justice in society were lined up right with the market crash. This week, a series on the book of Judges began with troops moving into Gaza as today's news describes, too.

It proved helpful to discuss how the descriptions of Israel in the Old Testament relate today, and particularly how they do not relate in a direct manner to modern nation states (of Israel, America or (in days of Empire) Great Britain) but rather to the Church, primarily.

Turns out the book is really about the faithfulness of God to a faithless people. There's nothing new under the sun...


(In a slightly incongruous video linkage, click the title of this post to listen to Bruce Cockburn's Lord of the Starfields)

In the winter, looking to summer

The change of seasons is a marvelous thing.

I think it was CS Lewis who noted that humans inhabit time with both a linear and cyclical experience. We grow up and get old, but each year brings a rhythm of the seasons and, in my experience along with Lewis, the cycle of the church year. Now we are in Epiphany, and on Sunday I will be preaching on Matthew 2, when the magi came to Bethlehem to pay homage to the newborn king.

(Theological aside: the seasons seem to me to be part of the Creator's goodness to us, and I wonder if the new creation will have them.)

As someone resident in the Northern Hemisphere, Epiphany is also tied up with winter and snow in my mind. And that of Number One Son as well, who was answering a number of Brain Teaser questions on the car ride home from Canada on New Year's Day. He got almost all of the questions right (for the grade ahead, his proud father noted to himself), but answered the question, "what are the four seasons?" with "Spring, Summer, Fall and Snow".

He could be forgiven for mixing up snow and winter, as we were visiting our family in a remote section of Ontario, where it was minus five degrees (Fahrenheit) on our departure, with snow and ice abounding. The ice was thick on the lake, where Number One Son had skated for the first time, and where a couple of wolves were spotted the previous morning. And as we drove away, I encouraged to the children to look over the lake realizing we might next see it in the summer when the colors will be blue and green, rather than white and gray it was in its frozen state. We drove down the driveway talking about how all the colors would change, and the things we looked forward to in the summer. One of those was picking raspberries and making them into jam. I sat around too much this vacation, except when clearing some trees that were felled in a storm, and so hope for a more active visit come summer.

But staying with Richard Wilbur for awhile longer, here is a poem that was published in the New Yorker five years ago that pretty much captures the children's hopes for the summer when we return to visit grandparents. We had wild raspberry jam from last summer on toast this morning, as there was not yet any milk or eggs for breakfast, having returned late last night from the five hundred mile drive...

Blackberries for Amelia
By Richard Wilbur
Fringing the woods, the stone walls, and the lanes,
Old thickets everywhere have come alive,
Their new leaves reaching out in fans of five
From tangles overarched by this year's canes.

They have their flowers, too, it being June,
And here or there in brambled dark-and-light
Are small, five-petalled blooms of chalky white,
As random-clustered and as loosely strewn

As the far stars, of which we are now told
That ever faster do they bolt away,
And that a night may come in which, some say,
We shall have only blackness to behold.

I have no time for any change so great,
But I shall see the August weather spur
Berries to ripen where the flowers were --
Dark berries, savage-sweet and worth the wait --

And there will come the moment to be quick
And save some from the birds,and I shall need
Two pails, old clothes in which to stain and bleed,
And a grandchild to talk with while we pick.

Originally published in the New Yorker, July 7, 2003



But maybe we'll go back in the spring to make maple syrup...

Richard Wilbur

I have mentioned in a previous post how much I dislike the animated version of Wilbur the Pig. Here is a Wilbur I like very much, the wonderful poet Richard Wilbur. A couple of stanzas of his hymn/poem printed below will be printed on our service bulletin at Christ Church on January 4th. Wilbur does a good job, as Rembrandt does in his Adoration of the Shepherds (National Gallery, London) using with the light and the beams in the stable, showing how the shadow of the Cross is over the manger. To you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord!


A stable-lamp is lighted
Whose glow shall wake the sky;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And straw like gold shall shine;
A barn shall harbor heaven,
A stall become a shrine.

Yet He shall be forsaken,
And yielded up to die;
The sky shall groan and darken,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
For stony hearts of men:
God's blood upon the spearhead,
God's love refused again.

Richard Wilbur (1921-), A Stable-lamp Is Lighted, stanzas 1&3


Merry Christmas to all!

(click on the title of this post to hear Sufjan Stevens singing "O Come O Come Emmanuel")

Believe! And Yoda.

On Fifth Avenue this past week or two, I have seen many examples of the "Holiday" shopping bags from Macy's department store. My first reaction was that this was the typical consumerism of Christmas -- that humans just needed to believe in anything and so be better people by "having faith", no matter what the content of that faith.

But that's not what the campaign is all about, actually. It is a revival of the story of an eight year old girl named Virginia who wrote to the editor of the New York Sun asking if there was a Santa Claus (her friends said there was not). The editor's letter (available by clicking on the title link of this post) was to say that Santa does exist, along with various warmhearted statements relating to Christmas.

This reminded me of the conversation that the Authoress or I have periodically about the topic of Santa. We tell our children this: "Yes, Santa is real. He is another name for a wonderful Christian man named Nicholas who lived hundreds of years ago, and who looked after the needs of some young girls by giving them presents secretly. Today we remember him and have fun by pretending he gives us presents on Christmas." And we've found our kids register that and then get pumped up for Santa at Christmas, including the television specials...

What follows in the reaction is some form or another of condemnation, but there you have it!

Click on the title of this post to see Donald Trump and Martha Stewart, among others, reassuring us of the goodness of the season in Macy's rather admirable and touching campaign promising to raise funds for charity as long as we believe in Santa (and shop at Macy's...)

On the continuing thread of Christmas carols, I have long thought this line from Hark the Herald Angels Sing reflects Yoda's syntax. Try saying it in a Yoda voice and see if you agree....

Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings.

A Circuit Breaker

I work with Aussies, and one of them used the phrase "circuit breaker" in conversation the other day. I know what that is in electricity, and in the context realised that this is roughly the same as "short circuit" in American usage. It meant to change the terms of the debate, to ask a new question. This is what the Gospel does, and on Sunday I was reminded of an example of it in history.

At the Christ Church service of Lessons & Carols, we had the children to the front of the church building to light the Advent wreath. "Silent Night" was sung as the kids went to their programs downstairs. Some friends in the church are a wonderful German family, and the dad sang "Stille Nacht" to his young son while the rest of us sang "Silent Night".

How lovely, I thought, he's singing it in the German translation. Then I caught myself. Of course, it's a German carol, not an English one! An Austrian priest wrote it around 1818 and it was translated into English about 35-40 years later. I was singing the translation, not him.

There is the wonderful account of war weary troops on Christmas Eve during World War I stopping fighting, exchanging greetings, playing football/soccer, and singing "Silent Night" together in German and English. A rather good film, "Joyeux Noel", portrays Scots, Germans and French enjoying a Christmas Eve truce.

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight;
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!

Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love’s pure light;
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.

In the midst of the killing machine of the trenches, of suspicion and even in the midst of men doing their duty, it was the singing of "Stille Nacht" that provided a circuit breaker. Jesus himself often did this when conversing with those who were trying to pin him down (e.g., "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's" or "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone").

But the very coming of Jesus is the ultimate circuit breaker in history, the dawn of redeeming grace.

So, the French film "Joyeux Noel" goes on our Netflix queue (click on title post to see an excerpt). Any carols in other languages that move you? Or any other circuit breaker moments you can relate? Do tell.

Advent Carol

"People Get Ready", as sung by U2 in 1987. That's the link with this post. Incidentally, I saw them in concert in Philadelphia in 1987 (thanks, Greg, for scoring tickets!). It was the Joshua Tree tour, and Bono was late to the stage because he busted his arm somehow. He thrilled some guy in the audience by having him come on stage to play People Get Ready. I think Bruce Springsteen came out the next night to play that song. I love the sound of both Bono and the Boss, but together it's like two of my favourite things that just don't mix -- like egg salad and peanut butter.

Anyway, the point is that "People Get Ready", probably best sung by Curtis Mayfield with a close second by Rod Stewart and Jeff Beck, is congruent with Advent. And the best Christmas carols also flag up the theme of Advent -- Christ came (humbly, as a baby) and Christ coming again (in glory).

"O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" expresses this hope:

O come, Thou Key of David, come
And open wide our heavenly home
Make safe the way that leads on high
And close the path to misery

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee O Israel

There are such wonderful allusions to the whole of scripture in that carol -- do you have a favourite verse? Or another Advent themed carol you enjoy? Or a Rod Stewart song that you love?

I Used to Row

I started rowing when I was sixteen, and in earnest in college, then quietly for about five years, then in earnest again in graduate school, then not much in the subsequent years.

For many years, I could describe myself as a rower because I had recently been doing just that.

No longer!

Moving to NYC has been wonderful, but rowing is not really possible here, even when surrounded by rivers on the island of Manhattan. A "road not taken" in life has been boarding school or college chaplaincy, probably in the UK, which likely would have involved quite a bit of time in boats.

Frank Sinatra did it his way; in terms of regrets, he had a few. In England, I often heard people say, "I have no regrets". I hear it in North America, too, but less. I regret not having been able (or found a way) to row for more years than I have. Maybe the opportunity will come again.

I first was intrigued by rowing as a boy when, sitting on the dock of my grandfather's house on Squam Lake in New Hampshire for the sunrise, saw a single sculler (in a fine polished wooden shell and wooden sculls, no less) slowly moving by. The effect of the sun dancing off of the water dripping from the blades as the perfectly balanced sculler moved through the water was magical. In reality, competitive rowing involves a huge amount of absolute agony as speed is generated. That has its own excitement, but it was the beauty of the sport that first grabbed me. And not only the sight of it, but also the sound of it - the swoosh and pop of the oar moving through the water to the release.

So in this little series on Christmas carols, how does rowing relate? For a short time, I had a bit of glory from success in rowing. Now my kids drink milk from old trophy mugs and a portrait of my Cambridge boat props up something in the hallway. Most other photos, shirts and such are in a box somewhere. And if I was in a boat, I would go as fast as the Tellytubby in the photo! But for a time, there was the glory of victory. And I lay it aside through circumstance and, if my self-description is any measure, grudgingly. Not so for the second person of the Trinity, who laid aside his glory mildly:


Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die:
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn King!


After having viewed the video linked to the title of this post, I'm thinking maybe I'll get on the water again...

Cosmic and Personal

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns!
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love.

At Christ Church on Sunday, we celebrated Lessons & Carols, and this was our final carol to conclude the service. It was noted how the carol describes the cosmic, universal significance of Jesus: that the King is worshipped by all Creation, even rocks, hills and plains; that He has dealt with the sin of the world (far as the curse is found) and that He is the Word made flesh who dwelt among us ('grace and truth' -- have a look at John 1.14, or listen for it at your Christmas Eve service). The extent of His reign is total, over all nations, indeed over all Creation, and thus all heaven and nature sings for joy at His coming.

And yet.

And yet the world is comprised of individual people. As Margaret Thatcher said to the dismay of many in Britain in 1987: "There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families." Joy to the World encourages the whole world to receive Jesus as King, and then makes it quite personal: Let every heart prepare Him room.

Which line do you find most striking?

Christmas Menace

Have you ever noticed that carolers threaten those they visit in this one?

We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Good tidings we bring to you and your kin;

Good tidings for Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding;

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding;

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer: Refrain

We won't go until we get some;

We won't go until we get some;

We won't go until we get some, so bring some out here

Once in Royal David's City

Christmas Carols are a wonder to me. They are such a great example of truth and beauty gathered together in worship of God, while giving joy to people.

The beauty and joy of singing these in worship comes together in this season, particularly in the Service of Nine Lessons & Carols started at King's College, Cambridge a century ago, and celebrated at Christ Church yesterday. The good theology of carols is somewhat overlooked, and so for the next few days, I hope to post on a number of Christmas carols that have special meaning for me, and convey wonderful truth.

Sometimes I am asked, "when did you decide you wanted to be ordained?". That question can be asked with curiosity, hostility or admiration, depending on a person's response to the Gospel, to me, or to clergy or a church in their own past. But my answer is this: As a child, I wasn't really sure exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. But ordained ministry was not a negative idea for me as it is for many people, because I had such good models in the ministers at my home church. Particularly the men like Dan Sullivan and Laurie Thompson, and even Joe Hess who was a bit cranky but all of them were both gentle and strong Christian men and clergymen in my earliest years.

So there wasn't as much to "get over" in terms of thinking about being an Anglican clergyman for me as others experience. Neither did I have a sentimental view that all I ever wanted to do was full-time ministry. But in the end, sentiment played a big part in how God grabbed my attention. I was ushering at Trinity College's Lessons & Carols my senior year, and had a profound sense that I should be in leadership in the Church. The singing of Once in Royal David's City (click on title post to listen) stood out to me. The last verse captured what I thought (and still think) about ministry -- introducing Jesus Christ to people so that they may long to spend eternity with Him:

Not in that poor lowly stable
with the oxen standing by
we shall see him, but in heaven,
set at God's right hand on high:
there his children gather round
bright like stars, with glory crowned.

Burgermeister Meisterburger

It's time for the Christmas specials!

"Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" was on the other night, and has some surprisingly warm allusions Jesus being born on Christmas rather than just the gift for children stuff. I forgot that the central story is a worn out and rather evil old wizard who, on meeting Kris Kringle, is changed to a good man. He's the one who gives Kris the flying reindeer and all the trimmings of the job. For some reason, Kris has a pet penguin as his accomplice in his early days. These were spent defying the law of the Burgermeister Meisterburger, who leads a paramilitary police force (and the only one sporting a German accent) to snuff out toys.

What is striking is that the goodness of Kris Kringle's motivations is accompanied by a massive behavioural modification programme -- the naughty and nice list, to see who gets toys. I grew up with this in the background, but it's pretty hard hitting in the show -- be good or you won't get loved by Santa! I've heard that in Austria, children really are at risk of getting coal in their stockings if they've misbehaved, while their brother or sister might get gifts. Can anyone confirm?

In any case, the Christmas specials are a blast. These puppet ones are the best, with such characters as Yukon Cornelius ("Bumbles Bounce!"), Herbie the Elf ("I want to be a dentist"), the SnowMiser and HeatMiser ("Whatever I touch, turns to snow in my clutch, I'm too much") and many more.

I like the animated ones too. Charlie Brown is tops. Frosty I could do without. I always wanted him to melt, just like I rather wanted Wilbur the Pig to be made into bacon after a few minutes of his whingeing on "Charlotte's Web". When Linus reads Luke 2 in the Charlie Brown Christmas special, it's a great moment.

What about you? What are your favourite Christmas specials?

Gold

I left a post on the site of a thoughtful guy I met at church recently, on the topic of value we assign to objects. The topic of his post was how much is paid for art, and what the inherent value of art might be. I wrote this:

Do material things (besides people) have inherent value? I think so. A thing of beauty should be valued in the sense of being esteemed, and a useful thing should be valued in the sense of not wasting it (such as food). But I am not sure about the use of the word "value" as an absolute category when describing the means to purchase something. Currency is something of a phantom, a little unreal.

A member of my extended family is ready for a total collapse of the economy, having a fair amount tucked away in specie (precious metal coins). In fact, I think he might actually long for a complete economic meltdown so that he can tender these coins!

Earnest Shackleton, whose ship was trapped in ice and led his men over land in their South Pole expedition, commanded the men to leave aside anything that wouldn't keep them alive. He added to the great heap of things to be left the gold sovereigns in his possession. But he picked up a volume of Browning, saying 'I throw away trash [gold sovereigns] and am rewarded with golden inspirations'.

Makes you want to read Browning, doesn't it?

I am the Greatest!

I've been praying for a friend whose son is terribly ill, though recovering, and thinking about times when my children have suffered. While what my kids have endured has not approached his experience, and the emergencies were of shorter duration, the fact is that the suffering of a child is of a different quality than other human suffering.

God the Father is not immune to the suffering of a child, of course, and in the strangest solution to the suffering and sorrow in the world, sent His Son to be born as a baby who would, in due time, suffer death, even death on a cross (cf Philippians 2). So while Muhammad Ali was probably the greatest boxer, the image on Esquire magazine in the third photo shows him in weakness (in the pose of St. Sebastian, who died for his faith in Christ). Then he is more like the Greatest than he is picking the round he will knock out his opponent. But the greatest in the eyes of the Creator is the second photo, of a little child.


Matthew 18.1-6
At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea."

I am not going through what my friend is going through. I do trust that God is neither immune from the sorrow of this situation, nor absent from this family in this trial which He has brought to them. The purpose for that is as yet unknown.

Does suffering perplex you? It does me, and yet it doesn't, knowing God is in charge. Sometimes makes me angry, or confused, certainly. What about you?

On a much lighter note, click the title of this post to see a cartoon of Muhammad Ali as an astronaut cartoon hero.

Denny Crane...Denny Crane...Hi, Denny Crane

Braggadocious, misogynistic, outrageous and generally over the top. That's Denny Crane on Boston Legal. A man who walks in a room and simply repeats his name, "Denny Crane", as if that's all that needs to be said. Continuing the tv theme, Boston Legal is a show that I like, though the lewdness of it distracts from the greatness and interest of the show, which is William Shatner's character --- a successful man dealing with his diminished capacities as age catches him. Alongside this is a wonderful friendship between two men, Denny Crane and Alan Shore (Shatner and Spader). Returning to the theme of eternal hope, Denny Crane asks about what our bodies will be like in heaven. I was grateful that another blog posted the conversation:

Denny Crane, asks, “Do you think in heaven I’ll have Mad Cow?”

(Mad Cow is his code word for his Alzheimer’s).

Spader pauses to take a drink, then says, “Denny, I think in heaven you will be as you were in the prime of your life.”

Denny Crane nods in contemplation. “Then I’ll be just as I am now,” he says and raises his drink to Spader.

That bravado of Denny's is a very transparent papering over of his insecurity. Yet it is so grotesquely transparent that it becomes endearing. The truth is Denny longs for his youth, when he had full command of his faculties, and when he was respected and feared rather than something of a buffoon. But his ego will not allow him to admit anything but that he is greater with each passing year.

The comforting truth, if a bit sobering, is that while age is a mark of honour and should be respected, our capacities do diminish. Fifty is the new forty, forty is the new thirty, etc. tell us that we aren't getting older. But we are. Age isn't just in your mind. We really get old. And creaky. And this makes me long for the resurrection, so that I won't be just as I am now.

How about you? Are you with Denny Crane on this one?

Meat and Bones

I saw an episode of the television series Mad Men. The plot seemed thin, the driving theme appeared to be a rejoicing in the time when women's liberation had not yet taken hold, but when sexual mores had begun to loosen. The beatnik rather than the hippie era. I don't have all the backstories, but a number of the characters drew my interest, while others were fairly shallow and unappealing. Many of my friends love it.

What I did like was how people looked! The Authoress (n.b.: my wife) and I were in a diner the other day, before our appointed hour to visit some lovely friends from our church who were recently blessed with a baby. The diner had a 1940's/50's theme to it, and showed a picture of Miss America contestants from about 1953. The Authoress mentioned how the idea of beauty changes with each generation, and how those women would all be considered overweight today.

Too bad.

This is bad for women who starve themselves to look tiny. It's bad for men who seem to want women to look like girls, perhaps thereby recalling their own youth? It's bad for men, too, who need to be too slender as well -- what if I really do need to live for awhile without sufficient food -- I'll be glad for the extra I'm carrying around then!

So I was delighted to see people a bit soft around the edges. Normal, to my eyes. Maybe the plague of obesity our culture has today is a reaction to the ideal of beauty being so far from what is possible for most to obtain.

The woman who reviews television shows at the New York Sun has this to say:

Meat is important, too on them. The "Mad Men" women have some meat on their bones, an extra 10 pounds they'd be working like crazy to get rid of today. A little roundness made their skin look young and their legs look nice. In the show, at least, everyone also always seems to be eating meat steaks sizzling with fat or home-cooked roast beef, and no one is talking about cholesterol. Not even the doctors. Of course, they're weren't talking about the rampant alcoholism, either. But still. It would be nice to eat more steak.

But I digress. I guess I've lost the point, too. Certainly the Bible hails inner beauty, but does not reject the idea of men or women having physical beauty. It rejoices in beauty. I'm guessing if the resurrection does mean our bodies are transformed but recognizably us, the result will be closer to Mad Men type of bodies than those we idealise today.

Your view? In this stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas, are we better off with a few more pounds? In the photos, do Don & Betty have more wisdom about bodies than the folks of today?

BBC America

 To get any channels at all where we live, cable television is required, the first time I've ever had it.  And along with cable comes BBC America.  

Joy inexpressible.

Mainly I enjoy older comedy troupes and duos, period dramas... British science fiction even seems more thoughtful.  But along with these genre is the auto show called Top Gear.  Essentially, the show involves three men driving super cars and saying how wonderful they are, and then also thinking of crazy things to do with regular cars.  It's fantastic stuff.  Click on the link to see their football/soccer match.

A truly marvelous episode is the race between the presenters to the North Pole, one by dog sled, one by pickup truck.  

Are you a fan?

The god of Fifth Avenue

Walking down Fifth Avenue, at 50th Street one is struck by the face-off of St Patrick's Cathedral and the statue of Atlas at Rockefeller Center. While the statue is based on the Greek mythology of Atlas holding the sky/the world upon his shoulders, in the context of the architecture of Rockefeller Center, it really celebrates modernism and the power of Man. This is shown by the central place of Prometheus (who stole fire from the gods for humanity) as well as the many mosaics and reliefs celebrating the human spirit and things like "commerce", "industry", "transport" and so on.

Many have noted before that there is something of a squaring off of divine versus human. But in December, Consumption is king. It is impossible to move around at the intersection of Fifth & 50th because of holiday shoppers. And on the day after Thanksgiving, retail sales were up this year, in the midst of the most severe economic downturn for decades. I am not going to my regular office nearby there today, because of the lighting of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center making for hoardes of crowds. This is no bah humbug -- I love Christmas and love it in NYC. This is merely to point out that the old battle between cathedrals to God or cathedrals to Man have been bypassed, at least for the month of December at Fifth & 50th. The new god is StuffToBuyOnCredit and instead of cathedrals, he has many small churches (Tiffany's, Saks', Macy's, etc.) where his worshippers flock in droves.

On a lighter note, the video link is John Denver singing Silver Bells.