Palm Sunday: A mari usque ad mare...

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Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout in triumph, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
He is just and endowed with salvation,
Humble, and mounted on a donkey,
Even on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
I will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
And the horse from Jerusalem;
And the bow of war will be cut off
And He will speak peace to the nations;
And His dominion will be from sea to sea,
And from the River to the ends of the earth.
(Zechariah 9.9-10)

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On this day, Palm Sunday Christians the world over remember and celebrate the entry of Jesus into the city of Jerusalem. The Gospels describe Jesus riding into town on a colt with crowds of disciples and followers cheering him; they waved palm fronds and threw down their garments at this feet. It was a big deal.

The prophecy of Zechariah portrays the coming king who will bring peace and salvation to Israel and all of the nations of the world. Ironically, this messiah who is to 'cut off the bow of war' will arrive in a position of lowliness and humility. Nonetheless, his dominion will be 'from sea right up to sea' (a mari usque ad mare) and 'to the ends of the earth'.

I can't even begin to imagine the expectation of peace and salvation that the crowds must have held. The prophecy was being fulfilled before their very eyes. The king had arrived to inaugurate his peace.

On Palm Sunday, this is exactly what we are asked to do: we are asked to join the celebratory crowds and welcome in our king. We are asked to share in this expectation and joyously celebration the imminent peace. And this we do; as Holy Week begins, we follow Jesus into Jerusalem where he will indeed inaugurate this kingdom of peace and salvation... though the road he travels, the road we will follow him on this week, will not be what the crowds were expecting. Nonetheless, today we join the song:

"Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!...
...Hosanna in the highest!"

Ancient Mediations: Early in the Morning...

Some days, getting out of bed is a struggle of epic proportions. The days when I'm working early, and I have to get up around 3am, those days are the easiest. I simply have no choice but to get out of bed and get ready for work. The difficult days are when I have a flexible schedule for the day (i.e. most days). I've always imagined that this is a fairly common human experience across geography and culture, but I hadn't considered the commonality of this experience from a chronological perspective (i.e. across time).

Marcus Aurelius (aka. Marcus Aurelius Antonius Augustus) was a 2nd century Emperor of the Roman Empire and Stoic philosopher. Apparently even he had difficulty getting out of bed in the morning:

"At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: I have to go to work - as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if going to do what I was born for - the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?
- But it's nicer here...
So you were born to feel 'nice'? Instead of doing things and experiencing them? Don't you see the plants, the birds, the ants and spiders and bees going about their individual tasks putting the world in order, as best they can? Are you not willing to do your job as a human being? Why aren't you running to do what your nature demands." (Meditations, V.1)

I quite enjoy this little mock conversation he is having with himself about getting out of those warm blankets in the morning. This guy had a giant empire to run and even he had to argue himself out of bed once and a while. I don't feel so bad about those mornings when I have similar conversations with myself. I think he's right though, we do have a task set before us each day, a task that requires our attention (and requires that we get out of bed). I guess even those silly stoic philosophers got a few things right.

Weekly Readings: Isaiah 43

One of the Scripture readings for this Sunday is from Isaiah 43:

"Thus says the LORD, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters,
who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people,
the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise."

I'm a big fan of (Deutero)Isaiah; it's so filled with hope and comfort. In this passage we hear Yahweh (aka. 'the LORD') providing his people with the assurance of his care and good things to come. He is speaking to a people who have been displaced from their ancestral homeland; they had witnessed the destruction of all that they knew (their homes, their temple, their lands) and were living as foreigners in the land of their conquerors. Though there was little to suggest that they would one day see their homes again, the voice of God speaks comfort and hope into their lives, assuring them that they will be restored.

In the minds of the Jewish people was likely the old familiar stories of God's mighty deeds. They looked back with fondness on the time of the exodus from Egypt. Back then, so long ago, their ancestors were slaves in a foreign land but had found freedom as Yahweh, through Moses, had led them from bondage across the deserts and the Jordan river to find their home in the promised land of freedom.

Here we hear Yahweh speaking to these past events of liberation, but instead of pointing them to the past where he was active in the lives of his people, he points them to the future where he will again act on their behalf as liberator of the oppressed. He calls to them, 'you long for those old days, but I tell you that I'm about to do something great, something new, something for you, my people. Where once there was dry desert, I shall make water spring forth into rivers; where once there was hopelessness, I will bring hope; where once there was captivity, I will bring freedom. Those who thirst for justice and mercy, for freedom and joy, will be able to drink deep and quench their thirst... this I will provide.'

This is the God in whom I place my hope; this is he who quenches my thirst, who gives me liberty.

I really enjoy the book of Isaiah...

Ancient Toilet Humour: Vespasian's Tax

Roman potty humour? Maybe, maybe not. More likely, just some quick Roman wit.

Following the death of Emperor Nero in 68CE there was roughly a year in which the Roman Empire found itself with four self-declared 'Emperors' battling for the newly opened position. All that came of it was death, destruction, and a bankrupt Imperial treasury. When Vespasian finally found himself as the last man standing for the position he had inherited a bleak financial situation. He needed to be creative in rebuilding the treasury...

In Ancient Rome, urine was deposited in huge cesspools and then resold by the collectors for a variety of industrial applications (something to do with its ammonia content?). If so many other business transactions can be taxed, why not tax the sale of pee? As comical as the may sound to us, there were many contemporaries of Vespasian who didn't appreciate this form of revenue. Soon these protests found there way to the Emperor by means of his son Titus who argued that there was something a bit 'off' about using 'sewer money'. According to Suetonius (De Vita Caesarum), Vespasian replied by holding aloft one of the coins brought by his son and declaring, "pecunia non olet"; that is to say, 'the money doesn't stink'. I laugh when I imagine the scene.

N.B. Apparently, his legacy lives on: modern urinals are still named after Emperor Vespasian in certain languages: vespasiano in Italy and vespasienne in French.

Saint Patrick, Green Beer, and the Work of God..

I find it interesting that while Saint Valentine's Day has succumbed to secular culture and dropped the 'saint', our good man Patrick has managed to retain his sainthood. I imagine it has more to do with the dull sound 'Patrick's Day' would have than with any retention of the day's more religious aspects. Nonetheless, there you have it: the day of green beer and silly Irish hats still bears the name of the emerald isle's patron saint.

What an amazing tale Patrick has: after being kidnapped and forced into slavery for six years, he escapes only to follow God's call for him to return to the home of his former masters, bringing with him God's message of hope and healing. He returned to join in God's work among the most dangerous and despised people of his day. His is an example of forgiveness worthy of emulation.

As I hoist a glass of green beer this eve, I shall toast to Saint Patrick and the work of God on the emerald isle.

God bless the Irish!

Thoughts on Beauty: familiarity, love, and contempt

It has often been said that familiarity breeds contempt. I have of late been questioning the veracity of this sentiment. Although familiarity can lead to contempt, is this due to necessity or choice?

I had an experience recently that brought this thought to the fore. Having seen what I thought was a beautiful sight, I pointed it out to a companion who was with me. Without looking up he/she replied, "yeah, I've seen it before". I thought to myself, is the beauty of the sight changed in anyway by familiarity?

What is it that leads us to discount that which we've already encountered? Are beauty and novelty necessarily related? Need a beautiful vista be any less breathtaking if it is in our backyard rather than some foreign land? I don't think it is the beauty itself which is lessened, but instead our ability to recognize the beauty.

Marriage has given me some new perspective on this question. I see my wife every day. Her face is rapidly becoming the most familiar sight in my life. But here, instead of becoming less so, her face continually becomes more beautiful to my eyes. The more I know her, the more I love her; the more I love her, the more am able to truly know her. And as this reciprocal process continues, I am better able to recognize and see her beauty. The key point here is that her beauty has not changed, but my cognizance of it has.

I wonder... is a sunset any less beautiful because there was a similar one yesterday and the day before? What about my family and friends, whom I see regularly, are they lessened because of familiarity? Are they any less beautiful?

It seems to me that familiarity can only breed contempt if it is separated from love. Love enables the eyes to see what truly is. Love highlights beauty and focuses one's vision towards it. Indeed familiarity guided by love can produce affection rather than contempt. What this means is that as I go about my day I choose how it is that I will respond to the familiar. Will I react with contempt and indifference, or with affection and attentiveness? Will I see the beauty in the world around me and in those who pass by daily? Beauty is all around me whether I am able to recognize it or not. The pertinent question here is, will I allow my sight to be guided by love?

Perhaps, familiarity (unguided by love) breeds contempt. But I'm convinced that this is the result of a choice, not of necessity.

Why I admire St. Augustine...

"Can any praise be worthy of the Lord's majesty? How magnificent his strength! How inscrutable his wisdom! Man is one of your creatures, Lord, and his instinct is to praise you. He bears about him the mark of death, the sign of his own sin, to remind him that you thwart the proud. But still, since he is a part of your creation, he wishes to praise you. The thought of you stirs him so deeply that he cannot be content unless he praises you, because you made us for yourself and our hearts are restless until they rest in you"
- Saint Augustine, Confessions

I look for great men and women whom I might emulate, people whose lives speak of God's mercy and love, people whose stories tell of the struggle to find and embrace God. I don't know whether our age is one in which there are few such persons, or if is is merely one in which we as a society do not esteem such persons as we ought (and therefore their stories go untold). I presume it to be the latter case. Maybe I just don't read enough modern biographies? Nonetheless, I often find myself turning to the past in search of such role models. When I turn to the past I am certainly not disappointed. In doing so I find a whole host of great men and women whose lives inspired the soul to pursue life, love, and the divine.

St. Augustine was an incredible man. For many, he remains the pre-eminent example of a great sinner turned great saint. Yes, he was a genius who lives on as one of the greatest minds in the western tradition. But what makes him truly great was his searching for truth, his desire for the divine. In the famous opening paragraph of his Confessions he is able to express the human condition in such a small handful of words: our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you. Augustine spent his life seeking this rest, seeking his beloved in whom alone he might find wholeness and satisfaction. This is why I admire Augustine: he struggled and searched; he would not be content with anything less than his heart's true desire, God. His was a life that inspires.

I find it very telling that the central character in his famous 'auto-biography', the Confessions, is God. Augustine knew what life was about; he knew what was important.

Watching the News: thoughts on legality and justice...

"Won't you stop citing laws to us who have swords by our sides?"
- Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus



I have often wondered about, and struggled with, the law. Perhaps it is because I am a amateur student of history; perhaps it is because I come from a generation nursed on the post-modern suspicion of power structures. Whencesoever the cause, it remains that legality seems a strange and nebulous concept to me.

Some cite laws to call for the execution of justice, while others cite laws for the justification of injustice. Similarly, laws have been written to defend the powerless and others written to prop-up the powerful (often at the expense of the powerless). Legality does not make an action right, it simply makes it legal. So to, illegality does not make an action wrong, it simply makes it illegal.

Let it not be thought that I am by any means an anarchist. Indeed, quite the opposite: I see laws, whether written or tacitly understood, as being necessary to any just and ordered society. I suppose my real problem is in believing that most laws are designed with the goal of a just and ordered society. Often it seems as though they are designed merely with the goal of an ordered society, a society ordered towards the hegemony of the powerful. History suggests that those with swords will simply defy laws only to write new laws to suit their interest once they have acquired power.

Is it fair to hold this view of legality? Yes, threat of violence will always be inseparable from laws (Why do law enforcement officers always carry guns? Because law always necessitates the threat of enforcement). But no, strictly speaking this is not a fair/balanced assessment of legality.

Laws ought to reflect, or be guided by, the divine law. That is, they ought to provide the societal framework for justice: protection of the poor, the widow, the orphan, the alien. In the end, though,I am forced to admit that just because many laws seem to promote the opposite (injustice), this does not negate the overarching purpose of legality. Despite the unjust laws, there remain many laws which serve the cause of justice.

I suppose what I am struggling with is not the laws and legality, per se, but rather injustice in their creation and execution. I watch the news, I read the papers, and it pains me. I hear people cry out for justice; I hear the rhetoric in response. I see the flash of the sword; I hear the rhetoric in response. I think to myself, where is the justice - where is the mercy?

I know from whom comes justice, from whom comes mercy. I know he is active. Still, sometimes it's difficult to watch...

Looking Back: Olympic Thoughts

With the completion of the Vancouver Winter Olympics [insert here worried glancing from side to side in expectation of VANOC legal goons] I thought I would follow the general trend by sharing some of my thoughts on the events of the past two weeks. So here are 'Tyler's Top Ten Thoughts on the Olympics'...

10. John Furlong's French: Oh, that poor, poor man. I know that Canada has two official languages and they both need to be included in the ceremonies, but does HE need to speak both? I've heard some pretty sad French in my time (some of it coming from me), but his takes the cake. He is a brave man to butcher the French language in front of the entire world.

9. Fun with Stereotypically Canadian Icons: Giant beavers, flying moose, dancing mounties, and jolly voyageurs carrying canoes. It was all in good jest and generally entertaining. One of the best parts of a all around lackluster closing ceremony. Though, Neil Young and Alanis Morrisette were also very good.

8. Canadian Patriotism: I'm not much of a patriot myself, but the sight of Canadians actually showing pride in, and excitement about, their nation was enjoyable. A normally rare sight indeed.

7. Downtown Vancouver: There was a fun, safe, positive, and even electric atmosphere on every corner. Yes, there were obscene line-ups, but good times were everywhere and at times high-fives from strangers were free. Great job playing safe folks.

6. The Weather: Wow! I cannot get over how beautiful the weather was. Sure, not really well-suited for the 'winter' Olympics, but man is Vancouver (and the Fraser Valley) gorgeous.

5. Grossly self-aggrandizing Speeches: Oh, look, it's another speech about how wonderful the Olympics are. Make me gag! By the end of the opening ceremonies, I swear, if I had to listen to another comment from Jacques Rogge about how the olympic athletes are models for us to emulate (or as he put it: "show us how to do good", whatever the hell that means) or how great the Olympics are because they better humanity and bring us together, I would have vomited. Okay, I'll leave it there; probably better not to offend a large portion of those reading this.

4. Curling: Yes, the game is still a mystery to many of us, but it sure is fun to watch. Anytime there is that much curling to watch on television, I'm a happy camper (eg. Brier, Tournament of Hearts, Olympics).

3. A Ready Excuse to Visit Friends/Family (who coincidentally have televisions): When my wife and I called up friends or family to come watch an upcoming event, they didn't even question it. Obviously, since we don't have a television, it makes perfect sense that we'd try to watch it somewhere. Fools! Little did they expect that secretly we wanted to come and enjoy their company.

2. Zach Parise's Tying Goal: Okay, now I'm sure to offend. But with 25 seconds left and the taste of victory ripe on Canadian tongues across our fair nation, this man did the unthinkable. Imagine when the news of the fall of Rome stunned people across the empire back in 410AD... yeah, that's about how his goal hit us. It certainly gave pause to our pomposity, took some sway from our swagger, and brought low our bravado. That's a healthy thing now and again. And, it sure made for an exciting finish.

1. First Nations Involvement: I was very glad to see the respect and place of importance given to the Native people of Canada during the opening ceremonies and throughout. And those drums... that beating stirs something deep in me.


0. The End of It All: Thought it was fun while it lasted, I'm very glad it's over.