A while back, a friend loaned me this CD by Tony Rice titled Church Street Blues (pictured).
First, it's fantastic. Powerful in its simplicity. It is easy to see why Alison Krauss claims him as an influence.
Second, Rice is influential enough in his circle, but is not nearly as well known as he ought to be... not for his sake, but for the sake of our ailing culture. Go and buy everything you can find by Tony Rice and share it with your friends. By his CDs by the gross and drop them from a helicopter over population centers.
Now, the song that has been stuck in my head for days is Rice's version of The Pride of Man. Written by actor/singer/sonwriter Hamilton Camp, it has been covered by several artists, but has never been done better (IMO) than Rice does it. However, I can't find his version on the web, so I'm posting a recording by Gordon Lightfoot, which is also very good and similar to the one by Rice.
The lyrics, especially as Rice sings them with such unadorned clarity, are chilling. Especially now, for some reason. The poetic biblical imagery calls to mind some Tolkien-esque vision of great cities in ruin, and of black clouds blocking out the sun, of sudden calamity that was none the less long in coming.
The Pride of Man - by Hamilton Camp
The song also reminds me that it can be nigh on impossible to fruitfully preach The Good News to a culture that has forgotten The Bad News to which the gospel is the cure. How do people with no concept of sin understand that the forgiveness of our sin - freedom from sin - is the most important thing there is, or can be? The culture at large, in the West, is like the alcoholic who, when confronted, angrily slurs that he has no problem with his drinking, it's everyone else who has a problem with it. If everyone would leave him (or her) alone and stop nagging, everything would be fine.
The Pride of Man is a powerful presentation of The Bad News... man's rejection of communion with his Creator and his subsequent slavery... slavery to his pride and his passions.
I have been in a discussion on another forum about In Vitro Fetilization (IVF) and other artificial methods of conception or reproduction (like surrogacy), and something occurred to me; as I was articulating the teaching of the Church and the reasoning behind it, I became aware that some people would probably criticize my thoughts as being a "slippery slope" argument.
What I maintained was that once we leave off natural reproduction (through good old coitus) in favor of unnatural reproduction methods (like IVF or surrogacy), we leave ourselves vulnerable and unable to offer any kind of reasoned and logical objection to any manner of technological jiggery-pokery, like human cloning or gene manipulation or even one day growing babies in neat rows of tanks to spare mothers the trouble and risk of pregnancy.
And I believe that is a valid point. A "slippery slope" argument may be used badly or used well, and I believe that, in this case, the slope is really very, very slippery.
Or, more correctly, I don't believe it is a slippery slope at all, but something more like a blind leap off a cliff. Once natural conception is abandoned, anything must be allowed, and the only objection we will be able to muster will be "Yuck!... no one wants babies grown in tanks! That's just weird!".
And it is weird, and it seems weird... now. But if we have no solid, immovable moral principle on which to oppose it, it will happen eventually. If enough people want it (it doesn't require anything like a majority), someone will devise a way to do it. Most people, at this point in history, find the idea of Fetus Factory Farming to be repugnant, but give it time. If the only thing that keeps us from factory farming infants is The "Yuck!" Factor, that obstacle will be removed eventually, just as it has been removed for homosexuality or abortion.
Abandon natural conception as the obvious, bright moral line we must not cross, and there simply are no other lines that are not arbitrary and based on human will and even whimsy. Passing "beyond" natural conception is not a slippery slope, it is a headlong plunge off a cliff, with no branches to grab on the way down, like in the movies. Accept the God-given limitations of nature, or accept anything and everything.
The same is true, of course, of defining when a new human life begins. From a cold and dispassionate scientific viewpoint, a new human life must be said to begin at conception, when a new, discreet, living human organism comes into being. It has a new genetic code, and it is most definitely not part of the mother's body (as evidenced by the fact that it could be removed from the mother's uterus any time before implantation and be placed in some other woman's body and grow just as well).
One minute there is an egg and a sperm, and the next minute there is a new, discreet human organism... a human being by definition.
Pass "beyond" this very natural and scientific definition to more nuanced and poetic definitions, and you find again that there is no other definition of "human being" that is not arbitrary and whimsical. It's when the fetus reaches a certain size, or a certain stage of brain development, or when the blood begins to circulate, or when the fetus can feel "pain"... these things are all completely arbitrary. The best that could be hoped for would be that we would all arbitrarily agree to the same arbitrary standard... a political reality, but not a logical or scientific one.
If followed to their logical conclusions, such definitions of "full" humanity would lead us to accept that small people are less human than large ones, or that the mentally handicapped are less human than smarter people, or that we are not fully human when we are under anaesthesia, or when we are drunk. People with poor circulation would be that much less human.
There is no slippery slope, here, there is the dry, scientific reality of conception... and there is everything else on the way to going "splat". There are dozens and dozens of milestones in the development of a fetus, any one of which could be chosen arbitrarily as the definition of the beginning of a new "fully" human life, but they are all nonsense, chosen for convenience rather than from any logical or scientific process. What in the world does "fully human" mean? It could be argued until the sun goes cold, with no right or wrong answer.
So, the next time someone calls this sort of reasoning a "slippery slope", I will remember to point out that there is no slope at all... only a sheer drop. It would be little comfort if I and a friend both fell from a cliff and he were to turn to me and say, "Oh, don't worry about hitting the ground yet... this is a very high cliff and we won't reach the bottom for several seconds, now.".
I ran across this article at Reuters, decrying the lack of women on corporate boards.
I commented and asked whether anyone thought it possible that one reason there aren't as many women on corporate boards is that women as a whole just are not as interested in being on corporate boards.
I know I'm not interested, and I'm a guy. It takes a certain kind of person to even desire such a thing, let alone make the sacrifices required to actually get there. I doubt there are many artists on corporate boards, either, but I don't see it as, you know, a crisis. I don't think we need to research the various causes of this mysterious lack of artists in corporate boardrooms. I don't see the need to agitate and lobby for boardroom parity for artists.
There may still be some kind of "glass ceiling" effect to consider for women, but it would have to be significantly thinner and more fragile than it was twenty or even ten years ago, I would think. There are tons of women working in corporate offices. More women than men finish college now.
Not only have I never had the slightest desire to sit on a corporate board, I have no desire to be in a corporate boardroom for any reason. It sounds unbearably tedious, and the supposed prestige of such a position holds no appeal for me at all. It could never be worth all the hassle, work and stress.
Of course, it may be terribly backward of me to suggest that men and women might have fundamentally different kinds of desires. Women, in order to show everyone just how great womanhood really is, are supposed to behave just like men, now (and not just men, but the most aggressive and obnoxious kind of men). Figure that one out.
And of course, men are supposed to behave more like women, too... crying at movies, and such. My problem is, I cry at all the wrong movies; Arthur...The Shootist... Planes, Trains & Automobiles... movies women don't even want to see.
There is one aspect of the Reuters story that I find interesting, that is that this statistical study they are talking about maintains that corporations with more women on their boards, while they are slightly better managed on the whole, perform slightly less well financially than corporations with fewer women on their boards.
The writer of the article, Diana Furchtgott-Roth, doesn't like the sound of this and takes some pains to deconstruct the study and question its methodology and reliability on that point.
Which I find odd. Is it that strange to think that prudent, steady, ethical management might cost a bit more than doing things the easy way and cutting corners? If it affects the bottom line a little, isn't it worth it? A company that is more responsible and ethical will have a better chance of sticking around over the long term, I would guess. That would be worth sacrificing a couple of percentage points, in my mind. But there seems to be a myth afoot which says that good management = profits, and that if it's not good for the balance sheet, it can't be good for the company. This view dismisses entirely the importance of intangibles in any human enterprise.
If the increased presence of women on corporate boards tends to result in slightly better managed companies with slightly lower profits (I have no idea if this is really true), I don't see why this is a problem or why it would need vigorous denying. It's just one way of saying that, even in the life of a corporation, there are some considerations that might be worth more than the almighty dollar.
Home archeology!
I was spouting off last week about the idea that men - husbands and fathers in particular - ought to step up and embrace their roles as provider, protector, bug killer, fixer and reacher-of-things-from-the-top-shelf.
Not that women can't or shouldn't do all these things. You may be one of those who is tempted to write something like, "Look, my husband is an unbelievable weenie when it comes to spiders", or, "He couldn't build a sand castle without printed instructions and an assistant". Perhaps you feel led to point out, "I'm a single mom, and I regularly do all these things very well, thank you".
If that is you, please understand that I speak only in the most general terms. One of my heroes, G.K. Chesterton, never seemed to be the rough-and-ready type. His work was at a writing desk, and I never heard of him being a great personal fan of physical labor. I'm certain he understood its importance, but he didn't appear to be very excited about even getting out of bed.
But broadly speaking, men are the nail pounders and bug killers. I used to wonder why I was called on to kill bugs, when the weight advantage of any adult human over an insect is going to make the sex of the bug slayer absolutely moot. But it came to me all at once, and from then on I understood. Protection of the family from any harm from outside is the man's job, from time immemorial, so dealing with home invaders - even tiny ones - is his department.
Myself, I am somewhere in the middle of the scale of manly knowledge and skills. I have had a number of jobs that required not just hard physical labor, but some smattering of mechanical know-how and common sense, as well. I've driven a bulldozer. I'm comfortable with power tools... but I'm no general contractor. I'm just of the opinion that men ought to step up a bit more in the manly skills department, especially at home.
So, it's rather poetic that I have this week been called on to back up my sermonizing by taking on a project the like of which my wife really doubts I'll finish.
See, for a while we thought we might be selling our current house, and so we started to prepare for that by fixing things up and talking to a realtor. In doing so, we came across the original seller's disclosure statement from when we bought the house. There was one item that we had seen and noted, but then had forgotten as irrelevant, which stood out to us now in a different way.
There, scrawled at the bottom of the statement, was the briefest of notes, but one that was laden with import, like "Victory in Europe" or "The Eagle Has Landed". It said;
"Pool buried in back yard".
We took note of this when we moved in years ago, but promptly put out of our heads any idea of ever doing anything about it. I mean, they went to all the trouble to bury the thing, and pools are a pain, in need of constant cleaning and maintenance, chemicals, etc... we were not gluttons for such punishment. Better to let sleeping pools lie.
But then, a few weeks ago, we went to Martha's cousin's house in Oklahoma for a family reunion, and had the greatest time relaxing around their pool. They had taken some trouble with the landscaping and design, and have kept it up well. It was like a little paradise for the kids. The great thing is, when you have a pool on such occasions, you don't really need to plan anything else for the kids to do. They have water to play in, and that will keep them well and happily occupied until they are exhausted. It's like a miracle. The adults could actually visit the whole time, as long as they kept one eye on the pool and didn't mind little pauses for things like drinks and sunblock.
At some time during the afternoon, we made the commitment to have the reunion at our place next year, and so the pool buried in the yard, and buried in the back of my mind, began to emerge into consciousness. I knew pretty well where the pool was, and began even then to form a plan. It will take a lot of hand labor, as a backhoe might damage the pool beyond all usefulness, but I think it might be done.
I jumped into it yesterday, with only a shovel, a hoe and a pair of work gloves. It was glorious. I mean, this is what I did when I was eight and went out to play in the yard. At that age, simply the act of digging was a powerful imaginative experience. In the words of the Old Man in A Christmas Story, "My God, there could be anything in there!". When I was eight I thought there might possibly be precious stones or gold, or that I might strike the remains of a dinosaur or a ship... or (in my more James Bond influenced moments) the body of a Soviet spy, buried in our back yard by the CIA (who would think to look there?).
It was easy digging, at first, as there is about eight inches of topsoil. I dug a series of exploratory trenches, looking for the edge of the pool. The plan was (and is) to find the edge and then follow it all the way around to get an idea of the size of the thing. Then I'll figure out how to dig out the fill dirt and clean it up. It will no doubt need some kind of resurfacing, and perhaps some repair, if it's cracked or something.
I found the edge of the pool in the first hour. The topsoil was easy to move, but I can already tell the thing is packed with of good-old Arkansas fill dirt, consisting of red clay and rocks the size of my fist. Lots of work ahead. The thing is, this will call for months of patient, steady work, with no payoff until the very end. There are two emotional high points to the entire process, and I hit one yesterday. The other won't happen for months.
As a young man, I might have been blind-sided by the inevitable waning of my enthusiasm, but now I'm anticipating it, planning on it, seeing it in my mind. There are months of drudgery ahead, and only disciplined imagination (hope) will bring me through to the end. This is the kind of wisdom that can come with age, if people pay attention, and one reason I don't mind getting older.
I was much better able to dig as a younger guy, but I can tell you already how that would have progressed; I would have dug like mad for a couple of days, wearing myself out, and then likely dropped the project, once the glow of the original discovery had faded into the red clay. After that, it would have only been a matter of repeatedly pledging to finish it "someday", until someone pressed me on the necessity of either finishing the job or filling in the hole, and I would have filled it in, thinking "It probably wasn't much of a pool, anyway".
The remains of an ancient civilization of pool-dwellers.
"Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' " - Luke 14:28-29
Moral Relativism's Unspoken Creed
I was asked recently what Christians, especially in America, seem to spend so much of their time thinking and complaining about homosexuality.
This was my off-the-cuff response;