epiphany

For Sunday

"'Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgment has come. Worship him who made the heavens, the earth, the sea and the springs of water."

Revelation 14:7

Everyone who reads this needs to go to this site and listen to the message on Revelation 14.

EVERYONE.

(If your internet provider won't let you download mp3s, go here instead, mouse over "Menu" and click on "MP3/Audio," "Sermons," "Books of the Bible," and "Revelation." Mouse down to the bottom of the screen to open the lower panel and scroll down to "Revelation 14: the Revelation of Jesus' Sickle." Click on "Add to Playlist." It should appear on the site's built-in mp3 player on the right side of the screen. Double click on it to load and listen to it. The box controls work the same as on your CD player. It's a big file, so if your connection is slow, it might not work too well for you.)

Logic and Evolution

En route to a friend's housewarming last night, I had an interesting conversation with a fellow teacher about evolution. I'm a Christian who believes that God created everything. While I'm familiar with the concepts of evolution, much of the argument for it seems illogical to me.

It began in a local coffee shop where our hostess said to meet. My colleague, Ryan, was looking at a book about dinosaurs, apparently trying to convince another colleague (who is also a Christian) that man and dinosaurs didn't exist at the same time. His first comment--which was a joke--was, "Look at the pictures! Where are the humans?"

Um, the artist chose not to draw them? :-)

As we walked to the apartment, the conversation was more serious. He said there was no evidence that dinosaurs and humans lived at the same time. I pointed out the fossilized footprints in Texas where a barefoot man (a homo sapiens footprint) was most definitely following the tracks of a dinosaur. My friend pointed out that the footprints weren't necessarily formed at the same time. I said that they're in the same rock and were very close to one another.

A side point here that we did not discuss last night: we have an assumption that earlier people were not nearly as intelligent as we are. This assumption cannot be easily proved or disproved. No matter their level of intelligence, I do find it hard to believe that someone who probably subsisted on hunting would mistake unfamiliar footprints in rocks for fresh tracks and take the trouble of following them to a river or waterhole. I also find it difficult to believe that fresh mud around a man's foot would fossilize in unity with stone layer formed millions of years earlier.

My Christian friend brought up the topic of missing links. Where are they? Ryan said that the links would be quite rare, so it's natural that we haven't found any yet since we only discovered dinosaur bones in the mid-1800s. Beyond what he said, I will offer the idea that fossils normally form under cataclysmic circumstances, so if missing links are as rare as they would appear to be, even under committed evolutionist thought, the likelihood of their being discovered is even less, for the animal would probably have had to be living at a time of great destruction, and destruction is not the normal condition for life on earth. What I did point out was that seeing there was no solid evidence, only conjecture, the existence of missing links is a matter of faith. Either you choose to believe something unseen or you choose not to believe.

Ryan brought up dating methods. From what I've heard, most of them are not nearly as accurate as we would like to believe. For one thing, they assume a constant rate of change and decay, which no one can guarantee has happened. For another, they have a limited length of usefulness. Techniques may have changed significantly since I last considered the matter, but if I recall correctly, in the early 1990s, carbon dating was only consistently accurate over a period of roughly 2000 years, and even then it could make mistakes. I heard that someone tested a living clam, and the test said that the shell was thousands of years old. Seeing that I don't have access to any sources over here, I admit that such things can only be admitted as anecdotal evidence.

As we discussed mutations and natural selection an idea struck me for the first time (before last night, I've never really had a serious talk about evolution with someone who honestly and committedly believes in it). I cannot and will not deny that natural selection occurs. It's a part of life: things suited for a certain environment thrive while others die out. However, it is a logical fallacy to conclude that evolution occurs simply because natural selection does. Evolution, as I understand it, is the gradual changing of one life form into another different life form: microbes become something bigger, over millions of years turning into mammals, people, etc. It is the changing of one thing into a completely different thing. For evolution to occur, natural selection is necessary. However, the occurrence of natural selection does not demand a result of evolution, the changing of one thing into another that is completely different (or even necessarily imply it apart from certain presuppositions). It is a simple logical fallacy: A occurs because of B. B occurs; therefore, A must follow. To make a cake, I must have flour. I have flour; therefore, I must make a cake.

Much of my disagreement with the idea of evolution is that too many changes would have to occur simultaneously for a new trait to be useful. How many different things are essential for an eye to work well? An optic cord leading to the brain, the cones and rods of the retina, the eyeball itself, the iris, a pupil, the lens, muscles to move the eye (maybe not), a relatively clear section of cornea, some sort of membrane to protect the eye. If evolution occurs slowly, there would be no gain, no positive advantage of developing one or two of these things without developing all of them simultaneously. There's little chance that an eye would be passed on. What about as significant a change as bones? And how would internal skeletons form as opposed to shells or exoskeletons? Other examples of unlikely combinations of traits could (and often are) made: bombardier beetles, who maintain chemicals that react explosively with one another within two chambers in their bodies, combining them only in measured outputs for self-defense; a male wasp that is the only pollinator of a flower having a glob of tissue that looks and smells like the female wasp of the same variety (I saw that in National Geographic a few years ago)--which would have evolved first: the wasp or the flower?, etc.

Natural selection, as it has actually been observed and not merely conjectured, has not changed one type of animal into another different type of animal. A classic example of natural selection used by evolutionists is the white moth around London that turned into a gray variety after industrialization. While that was indeed natural selection--the white ones could not hide as easily with soot as the gray ones--I fail to see how that was truly evolution. The moth is still a moth and is still identifiable as the same kind of moth. Everything is the same about it except for one characteristic: it changed colors. It did not and has not become a completely different creature. The comparison is no different than a person who has blond hair and a person who has brown hair or the differences between races of humans (who has evolved more: Caucasians? Asians? Africans? This abusive extension of natural selection could very easily lead to negative results and be used to defend oppression and racism).

Another example is Darwin's finches. Some have different-looking beaks for eating different kinds of seeds. But they're still all very recognizable as finches. They are not completely different kinds of birds. In fact, the great unity of different kinds of animals around the globe would seem to argue against evolution. Finches can be recognized on many continents, though they may differ in aspects of appearance. Doves are different in different regions, but they are still doves and recognizable as doves. Deer, antelope, bears, dogs squirrels ants, bees, trees--the list could go on ad infinitum. Each kind of animal (or plant) consists of a variation on a theme, each fitted to its environment but still definitely identifiable as that kind of animal.

Ryan based much of his argument on dominant and recessive genes. A trait would not necessarily have to be useful to be passed on, nor would it have to express itself in every generation. Under that concept, two individuals would not even necessarily have to live at the first appearance of the trait for the gene to exist and continue. After thousands or millions of years, the gene could become common enough among a population for it to regularly appear and be expressed, even if recessive. I did find that an interesting thought but do have some problems with it. First of all, how does a recessive gene become dominant? For example, it is a dominant characteristic for "higher" life forms to have eyes, but at one point, eyes would not have been a dominant characteristic. They would have been an exception to the norm and would likely have been a recessive gene. Secondly, the genetic material would have to be present anyway for the trait (or a form of it) to appear in the first place and be passed on. From the way we've seen genetics function, if evolution were to occur, all the DNA necessary for the expression of each trait of every creature would have to have been present within the first life-form, whatever that may have been.

In the end the conversation very plainly came down to a matter of faith, and I told Ryan that. There is no conclusive proof for evolution just as there is no conclusive proof for creation. Each of us must look at the evidence as honestly as possible and form our own conclusions. Personally, I find too much illogic and what-if's in evolutionary concepts for me to consider it a viable theory, much less an obvious natural law. I am, however, willing to honestly and openly consider a different viewpoint. If anyone can express the evolutionist's idea more clearly and fairly than I have here, I would appreciate knowing it so that I may understand it accurately. However, according to my current knowledge, it is far less of a stretch of the imagination to believe in a personal God who created everything according to his own purposes and designs and who created it well. With God as the basic presupposition, the evidence I have observed appears to make much more logical sense.

Where'd you go . . . ?

The middle of my week has turned out to be exceptionally busy, which makes any kind of blogging difficult.

Classes went well. On Wednesday night I tried out a session of Tae Kwon Do at a gym not too far from here. Some of the other teachers have been going for quite some time, and since I'd like to get back in shape, I thought I'd give it a try. It wasn't nearly as difficult as I expected, but Dan told me that the lesson was a lot lighter than normal. (And no, Mom, my surgery didn't bother me at all. ;-) Another option I'm looking at is SanDa (sp?--Chinese kickboxing), which one of the other teachers does. That looks a little more intense, but Tae Kwon Do seems to have much better stretching.

Decision, decisions, decisions . . .

Last night I went to an international fellowship with one of my co-teachers. Meeting new people is always a bit difficult for me, but I did have some fun. Since I don't have classes today, I'm planning on meeting a couple of British guys from last night to do some hiking. They don't live very far from me, and I think I know how to find the one's apartment.

Long Day but OK

I just finished my incredibly long day of teaching three English classes (two hours per class) topped off with another two hours of Chinese lessons. My horror class behaved better today--not great, but significantly better than last week. I went in with an "oh no" attitude, but I was able to keep things fairly light, even when I was putting two students' computers away for them because they were playing WarCraft instead of reading or working on dialogues.

We have a new Chinese teacher, and the lesson was significantly harder than anything we had last semester. Hard, but good. I can't say that I learned a lot because it all seemed to be slipping through my brain, but I was awake and mentally engaged the whole class period. Chinese grammar is a bit bizarre.

>:-P

I hate Tuesday. I teach for six hours today (my longest day of the week) and have my first Chinese lesson of the semester at the end of the day. Last week my 10:00 class was the worst I've ever had. They're new to me, and their previous teacher said they were horrors as well. It's very hard to go in with a good attitude when I'm expecting troubles as bad or worse than last week.

Postcards from Xi'an, pt. 3

These are the last of my scanned Xi'an shots. The first two are from a hot spring near the Terracotta Warriors, first established as a royal resort during Qin's reign. The last three are from Xi'an proper and include the Bell Tower in the middle of downtown (as seen from the Drum Tower), some lanterns hanging in the Bell Tower, and one of the two Wild Goose Pagodas just outside the old city in a large Buddhist temple. From what I could understand, this particular pagoda houses the first copies of the Buddhist scriptures brought to China.

For Sunday

"[If the Temple is too far away to bring the firstfruits offering,] then exchange your tithe for silver, and take the silver with you and go to the place the LORD your God will choose. Use the silver to buy whatever you like: cattle, sheep, wine or other fermented drink, or anything you wish. Then you and your household shall eat there in the presence of the LORD your God and rejoice."

Deuteronomy 14:25-26

Redecorating

Today's weather has been windy and rainy, a perfect day for trying to rearrange my bedroom and livingroom.

I've had a few wall-hangings I've wanted to put up since before Christmas. However, having concrete walls, it's been difficult to figure out just how to get them up. I tried to help someone else hang something in her apartment once and ended up gouging a big, ugly, gray divot in the wall.

However, I noticed little plastic "wire hangers" nailed into the wall in various parts of my apartment and have used them to hang a few things. This morning while shopping at Carrefour (France's Wal-mart; yes, I'm still in China), I finally found some of them, so I bought a box of four and a hammer. I also bought a much needed small lamp for my bedroom.

When I finally got home, I decided to switch my bedroom around a bit in order to accommodate the lamp. I have two outlets in the room, but they're both on the wall by the window. My nightstand was by the opposite wall, on the right side of my bed. My lamp's cord wouldn't reach that far, and an extension cord wouldn't work because of the design of the bed. At first, I moved my nightstand to the wall by the window and set everything up normally. Then I thought how I've gotten used to putting my glasses and watch on that side of the bed and might be confused during the night if there were an emergency.

Fortunately, I remembered a piece of furniture in my living room that I don't use for much. It's a small set of drawers, like a wooden wheeled filing cabinet, but there isn't really enough room in any of the drawers for files. I rolled that into my bedroom, put it between my bed and the outlet/window wall, and voila, I have a place for my new lamp. I centered a small wall-hanging above the middle of my headboard, and the room looks a lot nicer and more personal.

Having moved that one little piece of furniture in the livingroom and not being able to decide where to hang the next picture-scroll, I started moving my livingroom furniture all around, which was a lot more difficult than I expected it to be. I finally decided on a place for the scroll and hung that. Then I decided where I wanted the different pieces of furniture. After an hour or two of changing everything around, I decided that the original layout actually was the most intelligent, space-friendly design. I moved everything back to its orginal home (except for the newly christened nightstand). Ugh. Still, it's an improvement to have the picture up.

Finally, I hung my last large scroll in the hallway. It's all Chinese characters, and I have no clue what they say (it was a gift), but it's impressive. I think the large character is friendship, but I'm not sure. I'll have to get a student to translate for me.

Overall, the place looks much nicer. I'm especially pleased with how the one small scroll looks in my bedroom. When you enter my apartment, if you glance left, it's the first thing you see and gives a sense of serenity and balance instead of empty bareness.

And it hides the afternoon's first (and only) divot nicely.

The Straight Story

I picked up a copy of The Straight Story toward the end of last semester and finally watched it last night. If you're from the Midwest, it's definitely an enjoyable movie. I'm tempted to show it to my students to give them some idea of what my home area really looks like (even though most of it takes place in Iowa). The movie is desperately slow, but that's part of its charm and authenticity. The characters could be from my town or even my extended family.

A Matter of Time

If any of you have looked at the Chattablogs main site recently, you would have noticed that my posts remain stuck at the top of the list for quite some time. That's because I'm currently living thirteen hours ahead of the majority of that blogging site's constituents. I've been feeling a bit bad about that, being an outsider (the bloggers are supposed to be from the Chattenooga area).

Therefore out of consideration and as of this posting, I will be switching my blogging timezone back to my home area, Wisconsin, instead of China. It won't affect my writing, but it could make a few things confusing at times when I refer to "yesterday" but the day or date on the blog is that "yesterday." To figure out when I'm actually posting, take the time given at the bottom of the entry and add fourteen hours to it.

I know this probably isn't a big deal for any readers, and I may go back and correct the times at the end of a week, but I feel like this is the most polite thing I can do for the other Chattabloggers.

[Many of the dates have been adjusted: 3/14/2004]

What happened to Spring?

After several days of warm, highly enjoyable weather (it even reached the 60's!), it's suddenly turned cloudy and cold. I'm going to have to go back to my apartment and get a sweatshirt before lunch. It's warm enough in my office as long as the door is closed, but the school hallways are downright freezing.

Week One: Class Over

It's Thursday evening, and I'm done teaching classes for the week.

:-)

I like my schedule.

I teach the same lesson all week long to two classes on Monday, three on Tuesday (not so great of a day), one on Wednesday and two on Thursday. Unlike any of my fellow teachers, I actually have Friday off. I should do some traveling or something one of these long weekends. For right now I plan to work on music and practice my guitar.

Most of my classes are repeats from last semester--seven of the eight, in fact. The seven old classes are students who have at least an associate's degree from another school but who wanted to learn computers to complete their bachelor's degree. My new class consists of much younger students, and their behavior shows it. Our first session together on Tuesday did not go well, and I'm wracking my brain to figure out how to make the next one smoother. Maybe I got spoiled having all older students last semester, but I'm definitely glad that most of my students are older and better behaved. My Wednesday class is terrific. Their English is far from perfect, but they have a lot of fun and nearly everyone in the class tries. Sometimes they even come up with a few jokes. As one of our British teachers says, it's more like guiding them than having to teach. I would have been really disappointed had I lost that class.

Also, in something unusual for an American mind, the students just received their grades for last semester's class this past Wednesday. We were the first exam (the week of Christmas), but as I understand it, we were one of the last grades to be posted. I've had some very concerned students come by trying to get me to change their grades or put in a good word for them with the administration. One of my petitioners couldn't even ask me his question in English; a Chinese collegue had to translate. That was something of a fatal blow to his request for a grade change or re-test since I teach his Oral English course.

Musical Me

I just bought a guitar. The body is flaming red fading to woodgrain around the sound hole. I started lessons this past Monday with Luke, who's from Sweden and is quite a good player. He helped me buy my Floda late this afternoon.

I'm very happy.

:-)

strum, strum, str-str-strum; strum, strum, str-str-strum . . .

Postcards from Xi'an, pt. 2

Here are some shots from the Terracotta Warriors excavation/display about an hour outside Xi'an. If I remember correctly, they estimate that there are around 6,000 clay soldiers, no two of which are identical. They guard the tomb of the first emperor of China, Qin, from which we get the Western name for the country: "Chin-a." The tomb itself is about a kilometer away underneath a hill. Archeologists believe that the soldiers are in an actual battle formation from the era, around 2,000 years ago. There are two smaller excavations near this large pit. They're still digging out and cleaning up parts of the army.

Dogs taste good.

Back in December I was talking with Maxwell, one of my Chinese friends (the guy who spent several days with me while I was in the hospital last fall), and mentioned that I would be interested in trying dog. In fact, before Christmas several of us foreigners had planned to go to a shop bearing the subtle English name of "Li's Dog Meat Restaurant" that we've seen along the bus route. I don't think any of us actually went; I certainly didn't. Anyway, Maxwell said that he would find a better restaurant for us to go to after winter break.

Sunday, February 15, was d-day.

I met Maxwell at 11:45 in front of my apartment. He picked me up in a tiny minibus, one that could have been made by the Polish Fiat company, if that helps you size-wise. When I tried to put on my seatbelt, he told me that I didn't need to worry about that because he was a very safe driver. I told him that in America, we always put on our seatbelts; it was just a natural reaction to getting in a car. Well, the seatbelt was stuck, so I didn't put it on. Maxwell said that the police will make you wear a seatbelt if you're traveling on the highway between cities but indicated that wearing a seatbelt in a city was for girls.

We drove down to Maxwell's neighborhood, which I'd never been to before. He normally takes a couple of buses to work because his dad uses the car on weekdays. Earlier this week when we were making plans, he said that his parents were very surprised that a foreigner would want to eat dog. "Isn't it against his religion?" Maxwell thought that was very funny and told them that I could eat anything I wanted to. On the way to the restaurant, I was starting to think, well, maybe it should be against my religion. He also said that the restaurant is normally very crowded, so he had talked with the boss to make sure we would have a seat. The boss, like Maxwell's parents, was very surprised that a foreigner would want to try dog.

Arriving at the restaurant, the first thing I noticed was a strangled howling coming from out back. Some tufts of matted fur tumbled up the alley on a light breeze. In the window naked carcasses hung on chains with meat hooks through their chins. "I will see if we can get that one," Maxwell said, pointing to what might have been a German shepherd.

gotcha ;-) Arriving at the restaurant, I never would have known that they served dog since I'm not so good at characters. The sign could have said pig or horse for all I knew (I do recognise the characters for cow, sheep and chicken). There was an alley to the right of the shop, but I didn't hear any kind of barking, howling or even scratching. When I walked in, no particularly strange smell greeted me. The most disturbing thing was being seated beside a large bottle of snake wine. Maxwell asked me if I wanted any, but I told him that one new food would probably be enough for today. Although I'm sure it would be good for me (like every other unusual Chinese dish), I'm not yet prepared to drink something that has the body of what looks like a four-foot long venomous serpent lolling about inside it.

Maxwell ordered and kept asking me what parts of the dog I'd like to try. [Sensitive readers, please skip the following quotation.] "You want dog dick?" Um, no. "How about dog feet?" "Dog tail?" I told him that I really didn't know what would be good, so he should order what he'd like.

We ended up with a plate piled high with shredded chunks of dog meat, a soup with dog and tofu, a plate of large dog feet, a plate of spicy clams (Maxwell's favorite), some yellow beans that looked like corn, and boiled peanuts. We drank tea.

I started with the shredded meat. Maxwell had ordered some dipping sauces, but I tried an unadorned piece first, followed by a piece dipped in garlic and soy sauce and another dipped in red pepper sauce. I had a clam, which are bizarre to eat with chopsticks, though Maxwell's very skilled at it. The soup was quite tasty. Maxwell had ordered it because foreigners generally prefer hot meat and dog is often served cold. Although the feet were very plainly feet and I could see where the toenails had once been, I did try a piece. Unfortunately, feet are mostly thick, chewy skin, and skin is not something I'm accustomed to eating. I nibbled some meat out of one of the toes but couldn't bring myself to eat more than a bite of skin. It didn't taste bad; it was just the thought of it. I think I might have had an easier time with the snake wine.

Maxwell had ordered a lot of food, and we had quite a bit left over, including most of the feet, which I noticed that he hadn't touched at all. He told me that he doesn't like to eat skin even though it's good for you and makes your skin nice. (The Chinese believe that eating an animal body part strengthens the corresponding human body part.) In fact, according to what he's been told, foreigners wouldn't have as much hair on their bodies if they'd eat more animal skin. I asked him if that would mean that you'd go bald, but he said that no, it doesn't affect the hair on your head. Then we got some boxes, and he took the meat home with him.

He had chosen this restaurant because it has a very good reputation even though it's small. They kill two or three dogs each evening and prepare the meat the next day. So it's never been refridgerated at all. Judging from the size of the feet, I'd guess the dogs had been pretty large. I asked if they were guard dogs or something, and Maxwell told me that they wouldn't have been because guard dog meat would be too tough. He thought that they might have been from a farm. The restaurant's name did indicate that the dogs could have come from the countryside.

So, now we come to the real question, the twisted little thought that's kept you reading thus far: how, exactly, does dog taste?

The shredded chunks had a smooth, tender texture, like a nicely cooked pot roast. The meat in the soup was soft, almost as soft as the tofu. The feet were, well, feet. The little meat I got out of the toe was decent though not quite worth the effort to a foreigner. If you're into skin, it was probably great. Overall, the meat was just about as greasy as the dark meat of a chicken or turkey, maybe a little less so. It did have a strong and lasting aftertaste.

People had told me that dog meat makes you warm inside. I didn't know quite what they meant by that, thinking it was some kind of poetic Chinese description of the emotional or medicinal effects of dog. However, they were being quite literal. About an hour after we finished eating I noticed that yes indeed, I did feel genuinely and unusually warm inside, kind of like I had just finished a Blenheim ginger ale. But this warmth was down in my stomach rather than in my throat/esophogus, and it lasted significantly longer than Blenheim does. It wasn't a sick feeling, just a warm (temperature-wise) feeling.

Now, I have to admit that part of my reluctance to try dog was influenced by one of the teachers who had lived in southern China last year. He had eaten it once and said that it tasted like wet dog smells. Fortunately, my experience was markedly better than his. As I said, I didn't smell anything particularly unusual upon entering the restaurant, and had I not known it was dog meat (or seen the feet), I probably never would have guessed that I was eating dog. Because whether you want to believe it or not, dog tastes like, . . .

you guessed it . . .

Ostrich.

(which tastes like beef)

Looking Deeper

I saw The Truman Show for the first time last night. It came out the summer of my first MMT, so I was traipsing about Europe and largely ignorant of its existance. A couple of friends told me I should see it, but I never really had the chance before coming to China, where DVDs are cheap and you don't know what's pirated and what isn't.

On the surface, the movie could easily be considered a mockery or rebuttal of the Christian worldview or an expression of the power of "free will" (better termed "free choice"). It's sort of a modern Everyman play. Truman has lived his entire life (literally--he was even born on TV) in a controlled environment where everyone knows that he's just living a TV show, although he doesn't. The creator of the show, Christof, can manipulate every aspect of Truman's life apart from Truman's responses. In the course of the movie, Truman figures out that something is very wrong with his world and tries to escape.

The names of the protagonist and antagonist are hardly veiled references to the function of the characters. Truman is supposed to be man as he really is. Christof is "the creator," a god-figure. In the end, Truman successfully (though honorably) rebels and leaves the show, hence the apparent triumph of free choice over sovereignty or man over God.

If the movie is reflective of reality, then Truman is a genuine hero, a slave who outwits and overcomes his invisible captor. Many people view reality this way. They think that God is a manipulator, and we in turn must do everything we can to manipulate him back, to outwit and overcome him. Some do this by rejecting his existence. Some do it by ignoring him. Some do it by playing the system, trying to placate and manipulate him through sacrifice, prayer and any other good deed.

The manipulator-creator Christof in the film reflects man's understanding of God. He views himself as protecting Truman from the evils of the world, giving him everything reality ought to be rather than what it is. He talks, with obvious care and emotion, about watching Truman his entire life (30 years). While Truman's sleeping, we see Christof stroke his televised head. But in his interactions with Truman, Christof is always interested to see what Truman will do. Christof is at best intellectually curious about his "creation," and Truman's life is his grand experiment. When Truman leaves the show at the end, we see from Christof's face that he is now a broken man. Christof's entire life and identity has been The Truman Show. He loved Truman because he controlled Truman, not because of who Truman really was. And Christof needed Truman to complete himself. The show has ended, and so has Christof's power, experiment and his very definition of himself.

I would say that The Truman Show is a very good movie and does accurately reflect the common understanding of reality and particularly the common understanding of man's relationship to God. It's a praise-worthy and accurate representation of a flawed understanding, though. It (and we) forgets one very important aspect of God's nature.

God is Good.

I firmly believe that God is sovereign. His control over all of Creation is absolute. Everything that happens happens as he has and does decree it. Attempting to view things from God's angle (a dangerous, proud and inherently flawed task for a man), there are no accidents, no twists of fate. Yet God is in no way a manipulator because he is truly, thoroughly and incurably Good. Man cannot get his mind around that fact. We do not and cannot understand incurable goodness, we who are prone to corruption and manipulation, we who have motive upon motive built throughout our conscious actions. We who wish to be the Manipulator, bending all things to our broken wills.

Part of God's goodness lies in his completeness. God has no need of man or any other part of his creation. Unlike Christof, God could (and did) exist quite happily apart from us. God did not create us because he needed to be loved or needed something to love. He was not lonely who has dwelled for eternity in Trinity. Man does not define God's existence. God created because he is Good and he chose to create. Unlike Christof, who loves from afar (loving an idea rather than a person) and interacts only to manipulate, God freely entered our history through Jesus--the true Christ--man on man and face to face, because he is Love and he chose to rescue us. He uses all of our choices and actions to accomplish his purposes because he is Good and is working even broken things into his goodness, causing them to be whole.

Christof is no god, and God is no Christof. We who manipulate, bite and devour one another, who define ourselves by the power we have grasped, cannot understand the incurably Good; we cannot understand God. But even with a broken understanding, we can know that there is Goodness and Love beyond our comprehension, goodness without corruption, love without gain-seeking or manipulation. We can and need to know that God is, and that through Jesus, he is the Rewarder of those who earnestly seek him, who honestly desire Truth.

For Sunday

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying:

"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with loving-kindness.
I will build you up again
and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel.
Again you will take up your tambourines
and go out to dance with the joyful."

Jeremiah 31:3-4

Me, Visuals and Music

Since Daniel brought up a question that may be a bit bigger than I'd like to put in the comments box, I thought I'd address it in its own entry. In response to the photos from the Great Mosque in Xi'an, Daniel "the Manipulator" Cassel wrote, ". . . do you ever get musically or filmically inspired by this place [China]?"

In short, filmically, occasionally; musically, rarely.

Truth be told, in my case, visuals mainly inspire poetry. Colors and shapes do attract me to things I want to paint or take pictures of, and there have been plenty of times that I've thought, there's no way to share this with anyone apart from an immersive film experience. But since that normally isn't an option (and film can't share smells), I find that poetry is the best way to communicate what I feel about what I see. That said, I haven't actually written any poetry about China. I think it takes me a while to sort through new experiences before they can work their way out in words. When I'm in Wisconsin, poetry flows pretty easily--just give me a couple of days walking through the countryside, and once the words start up, they'll keep going.

Recently, I've tended to be a pretty strict imagist (my own word) in my poetry: I aim to convey a picture through the words. The choice of words gives a twist or interpretation to the image, but the reader should be able to say, "you're looking at ice on a river" or "that's a duck" when they've finished reading, hopefully appreciating the image I've described. (Maybe "impressionist" would be a better word than "imagist" since the technique is conceptually similar to late 19th-century painting.) I'm not very good at putting in multiple levels of meaning into my words, so maybe being an imagist is something of a cop-out. But when I aim for emotional topics in poetry, I too often feel like I'm losing control of the text and have much more difficulty shaping it. It always ends up feeling jagged to me, yet smoothing the edges ends up dulling the character. It's kind of frustrating. Focusing on an image leaves me feeling more in control and is much easier to revise, though it may be a weaker form of poetry in the long run.

On to music. For me, music is very, very rarely a visual experience. I toyed with some visual ideas after visiting Xi'an, but I scrapped them pretty quickly. I do hear what I can only describe as lines (thank you, Heinrich Schenker, for confirming what I've been hearing all my life!), but they aren't lines in a visual sense. However, calling them "tonal patterns" is too vague, so "lines" will have to do.

I guess a good way to describe my view of music is as structured or organized emotion. In a sense it's like poetry in which you're describing something, interpretting it through your experience and abilities. But poetry can be much more specific than music simply because it's based on words. Music is what's behind the words in poetry, given interpersonal and temporal weight. Music takes what I'm feeling and lets me write it down in a more controlled form than I can in my poetry, though it does take me substantially longer to do so.

Unlike my poetry, my music almost always does have an extra message in it for those willing to listen carefully. Though most of what I've written is accompaniments to hymns, I use the music to reflect and often reinterpret the words--music as counterpoint to the text. I want to tell truth (as I know it) through the music, and truth isn't often what we want or expect to hear. I am picky about my texts because I don't like to write music that I don't believe. If I don't agree with the text, I end up having to make the music a parody or melodrama, even if most people don't hear it. Most of my music is about struggle, and if I can't fit or hear that struggling in the music, I normally end up disliking the piece, if I ever even finish it. There are occasional exceptions, but that's the general form.

I am the Opponent of Reposed Music. Life is not easy; therefore, reposed music is a lie.

And art must be honest.

Woe et al

For quite a while now I've been meaning to go downtown and take photos of my city. However, often when I've had free time it's either been nasty-cloudy or too darn cold. Today was different, though.

Today was sunny and fairly warm--for February. We get a nasty wind coming down from Siberia here, but apart from occasional gusts, it was pretty nice. After lunch I picked up my trusty Pentax P30t and got set to head out the door. At the last minute I decided that it might be nice to take my longer lens along. After getting that out, I thought that it would be ok to take my flash out of my bag and move my extra rolls of film from the main camera compartment to the flash pocket.

Upon opening my bag, horror of horrors, I saw that MY PRIMARY LENS WAS BROKEN!!! Somewhere along my travels this January, the body of the lens separated from the part that attaches to the camera. I have no idea how to get it back together (I tried everything that looked possible, apart from super-glue). I'll have to see if one of my Chinese collegues can help me find a repair shop. Or this may just be the push I need to go digital.

Either way, yuck.

I went downtown for photos anyway, sans my main lens. Having to use a long lens (70mm-210mm) is awfully trying when you're used to shooting between 28mm and 70mm, normally leaning toward the wide side. I think I got some decent shots, but I could have had more with my other lens.

Weep with me.

Postcards from Xi'an, pt. 1

Here are some photos of the Great Mosque in Xi'an that I took last October during National Day. Compared to the Buddhist and Daoist temples I've been to, it was quite relaxing and very, very quiet. However, it rained the whole time we were in Xi'an, so you'll have to get used to greyish-white skies in all the shots.

Stay tuned every few days for some more photos from China.

Where I Am & Who I Am

I'm experimenting with uploading photos. If you click on each of the thumbnails (little pictures), a bigger version should pop up for your perusal. The first one is me (Jonathan), the second is my school (Neusoft) with part of Dalian in the background, and the third is several of the English teachers (Derrick, me, Dan, and Leland) partway through a walk last fall.

Roadside Anime

The city installed stoplights near my apartment while I was away. In fact, I noticed that they've installed new stoplights several places en route to one of Dalian's bigger shopping centers. While undoubtedly a good thing overall, I have to admit that I'll miss the occasional taxi ride madly careening through a blind intersection, wondering whether or not cross traffic might somehow be able to see you when you can't see it.

Additionally, I'm a great fan of international warning signs. For about 10 years now, I've thought it would be terrifically fun to come up with simplified graphic illustrations of potential carnage resulting from seemingly insignificant sources or actions. I think the baby flying through the air with its car seat (the one on the back of your visor--at least if you have a newer Honda) is absolutely hilarious, though my all-time favorite is one from a furnace/water-heater thingy. I really don't know what the machine did, but I do know that if I turned a certain lever, the room and I would be enveloped in a lake of fire.

Which leads me to crossing the street. Crossing the street in China is reminiscent of Frogger, minus the river and alligators. The advantage of playing Frogger is that you have a bird's-eye-view. In China, there are specific places marked as crosswalks, but rarely do they have a traffic signal by them, and never will the traffic actually stop for someone in a crosswalk. You learn to ignore the occasional walk/don't walk signals and cross lane by lane, stopping to wait for a clearing ahead of you while cars begin to zoom behind you.

So, while riding the bus down my newly traffic-lighted road the other day, I saw a brand new warning sign. Two pudgy stick figures dash across their triangular yellow background, a purse trailing in the air behind them. Yes, the figures for the crosswalk were actually madly running, Frogger-style, across their little painted street. And they were indeed Asian-cutified children's anime-style little fatties. That might just edge out the flying baby as my second all-time-favorite warning sign.

Sweat to Drink

You get lots of interesting foods here in China. For instance, my coworker just gave me a mildly spiced, wrinkley piece of unleavened bread. I have no idea what it is, but it tastes pretty good. There's also a crunchy, round fried peanut thingy that I like. Other foods popular in my area are sea cucumber and youyu si (squid jerky). Sea cucumber tastes a lot like salty air and has the texture of persistant geletin: it won't dissolve on its own, but it provides no resistance when you bite it. Youyu si, on the other hand, is really fishy, salty and chewy. Squid on a stick is much better, and you can buy that along the street. Just don't let them put too much hot sauce on it.

But my favorite food encounter so far has been a drink. I was walking through the airport in Beijing the other day and saw cans of Sweat. Pocari Sweat is a Japanese beverage "with properties similar to your body's own fluids." Since it was cheaper than water or soda (I think beer cost less) and had such an intriguing name, I decided to try it. It was uncarbonated and mildly sweet with a hint of citrus--nothing strong, but not so weak that it didn't taste good. I would definitely buy it again.

But next time, I think I'll take a friend along and have him buy it. Then I can say that I drank someone else's Sweat. ;-)

Worth a try

If you enjoy trying out new software, this browser is worth a look. It isn't great for blogging, but for everyday surfing, it's quite nice.

North of Noon

I left the US for my second semester in China yesterday.

My flight left Chicago at 11:55am Central time, and I finally arrived in Dalian the next night around 8:00pm, China time (fourteen hours ahead of Central). I had to get up at 4:15am to make my flight from Madison, WI, to Chicago, sat in O'Hare for three hours, sat in another airplane for fourteen hours, wandered around the Beijing airport for three hours (which is remarkable for its lack of seating), and finally made it to my city.

The main flight was bearable, length-wise, and enjoyable, seat-companion-wise. I had the window seat just at the back edge of the airplane wing, and beside me on the aisle was an older man who had been a commercial pilot. His company is trying to set up an alliance with a Chinese airline, so he was going to Beijing to continue negotiations. He told me a lot about how airplanes and airlines work. He seemed to know just about everything about the kind of plane we were on (Boeing 777), yet seemed awestruck and really interested in it still. He was just a lot of fun to chat with.

The flight took us along the polar route, and we went far north of Alaska. The in-flight map would occasionally show a polar view of the world, and we were definitely going in a straight line. From the view on the normal map, though, we seemed to be going WAY out of the way: straight up from Chicago, turning over the Arctic Ocean, and straight down again through Siberia and Mongolia to Beijing. It was, technically, daytime for the whole trip, but we went so far north that the sun was just below the horizon. I had the southward-facing window, so I was able to view the sunset for about four hours.

The sky was remarkably clear from the Northwest Territories all the way to Beijing. When it wasn't dark, I could look out my window and watch the Great White North go by underneath. And it was indeed both great and white. The further north we got, the harder it was to tell what was ground, what was water, and what was just snow dunes. When we passed over Hudson Bay, I could see huge cracks and channels that told me the whiteness was ice (same for north of Siberia, once we got some light). Other than that, I could see the shadowed outlines of great mounds ripped and torn from north to south then softened by snow. But whether those were mountains or islands was impossible to say by sight alone.

I was completely surprised by the landscape in Siberia. The very north edge was a lot like northern Canada with nameless mounds and shelves of snow. But soon graying reds were peeking through the snow. At first I didn't believe it, thinking that nothing more than scrub could survive so far north, but when we came to the first mountain range, I knew that I was seeing trees: they climbed partway up the mountains but faded just below the glacial caps. I could see their shadows and bare forms piercing the snow throughout the valleys.

South of the mountains, I was stunned at the number of rivers, all frozen at this time of year, but unmistakeable still, as far as the horizon. They appeared to have twisted and rounded the hills. There were meandering areas that must have been marshes in the thawing time, vast swirling bends and crooks bent back upon themselves all the way to the horizon, a graceful, swimming land. Then came the greatest shock: five rectangles forming a square cut into the forest. Surely it was an abandoned prison camp. But no, not far away, maybe a mile or so, stood a town at the edge of a river. I could see individual buildings, and a long road or train track cutting across the land. I didn't see any more human activity for probably two hundred miles, but then another town popped up. This one I noticed because of a clearing similar to the first one, but this clearing held definite mounds of rectangular snow, several buried buildings. That clearing's town was farther away than the first. The town appeared to have been cleared of snow.

Crossing the mountain range near Mongolia, I noticed another geographic oddity: the sunny southern side of the mountains had more snow than the shadowed northern side. The north appeared to be bare rock (the first absence of snow I'd seen since coming across Siberia, apart from the towns), but the south was completely covered. I don't know why that would have happened.

As we crossed Mongolia and northern China, the ground became a frosted red. I assumed we were crossing the eastern end of the Gobi Desert, though I'm not certain of that. The land looked barren, almost Martian. Water or wind had rounded the ancient rocks. Little or no snow lay over the landscape. Only in the shadows could I see hints of blue and white. Again, we came to mountains, bare and brown. Cities occasionally appeared in the valleys. Toward Beijing, the mountains began to sprout scrubby trees, and I think I saw part of the Great Wall. We landed soon after.

Fresh Air

"Far above Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master's, ceased to trouble him."

The Return of the King

Snowy morning

I hate snowblowers.

Well, hate is a strong word, but I do have a strong dislike for them. I imagine that if I had a snowblower of my own, I would appreciate them more. However, I do not have one, and my neighbor's drives me nuts. While I appreciate her kindness in blowing out our main sidewalk, when I see her out there with that machine, I want to run outside and shovel as quickly as is humanly possible. Why? Because her snowblower leaves about a quarter- or half-inch of snow on the sidewalks, which then gets packed down, doesn't melt, and compresses into ice.

Shoveling, on the other hand, may not completely clear off all the snow either. (Some remains in the cracks and texture of the walks.) But what does remain is so minimal that it melts away as soon as the sun comes out, even on a cold day. Because I went out this morning and cleared the walks thoroughly after my neighbor's snowblowing escapade, our sidewalks are nice this evening, whereas hers still have a layer of whitened ice forming.

Of course, I could have been a good person and cleared her sidewalks as well, but I wasn't, and I didn't.

Beyond clearing snow, today I talked with my home pastor about China, stocked up on some supplies for the coming semester in China (I leave on Sunday morning) and got a haircut. I've also been doing a lot of reading online. What I should do tonight is scan in some photos and send them to my friends, maybe even try to post a few to the blog.

We'll see.

Troubled Thoughts

On the way back from visiting my grandparents today, I listened to a discussion on NPR's "Fresh Air" concerning Massachusett's judiciary ruling that forbidding homosexual marriage is unconstitutional in that state.

I find this troubling in several ways (and not just in a "court legislating" concept).

First of all is our understanding of what "discrimination" is. I've been telling my students that discrimination occurs when one group of people forcibly or legally prevents another group of people from being able to do something that is within the second group's natural ability. While much of the argument around this ruling seems to be about discrimination, I wonder if that is an accurate accusation or description. Historically, traditionally, whatever, marriage has been, at minimum, a contractual agreement of commitment between a husband and wife, the husband being male and the wife female. (Despite jokes about who wears the pants in a family, to my knowledge, no man has yet legally argued to be considered the wife, nor vice versa.) The argument for homosexual marriage appears to claim that recognizing such a union with "special rights" or privileges amounts to discrimination against homosexual couples.

But is it truly discrimination when the two individuals who wish to enter into a contract do not meet the definition of the parties involved in such a contract? There are certain things that I may not legally do, due to my status as a single, childless male. I may not file my taxes as married, nor may I claim any dependants as extra exemptions. Should I be allowed to claim as many exemptions as I feel that I need in order to make my tax payment or return something more to my liking? Additionally, since I am not yet 35, I may not run for President of the United States, even though I am a natural-born citizen. Am I being discriminated against by the government of either my nation or my state? Why set the minimum age limit for President at 35? I can vote in and die for my country? Why cannot I lead? Yet it is absurd to think that I am being denied any kind of right in these situations: I do not fit the description of those who may apply rightfully. The same is true for a homosexual union. In a homosexual relationship, there cannot be a husband and wife in the accepted meanings of the words: a man cannot be a wife; a woman cannot be a husband. (So really, in creating homosexual marriage we would have to be redefining a minimum of three words, rendering much of the writings of history indistinguishable and inexplicible to future generations in the process.) A wife alone is not a marriage. A husband alone is not a marriage. One gender cannot comprise "marriage."

Several years ago in Vermont, the state supreme court demanded what resulted in civil unions by viewing the issue as being about benefits rights. I do not know what the laws of Vermont are, but can cohabiting heterosexual couples receive the same benefits as married (or civil union) couples? Following in the thought and tradition of the new unions, would that not be a form of discrimination against cohabitors? Many cohabiting couples are surely as "committed" to one another many of those who marry, perhaps more so, considering the divorce rate in our nation.

If marriage (or civil unions or whatever) are truly about benefits, what is to prevent two friends without any sexual intentions whatsoever from simply engaging in a legally recognized union for the sake of tax, health or any other kind of benefits? Wouldn't that technically be acceptable? But that would seem to cause marriage to become a strictly financial concept. Yet "marriage" would seem to indicate much more than a mutually beneficial financial agreement. Otherwise cohabiting heterosexual couples would more readily get a license and embrace the title for the sake of money.

By redefining marriage, could we not be the ones discriminating against those who are already married? Would we not be taking their term, reserved thus far in all of recorded history to describe their particular unity, and altering its meaning for the sake of a few who wish to be recognized for a non-traditional sexual activity? This is not acting on the part of the "greater good" of society. This is selfishness, imposing the desires of a few on society as a whole.

But apart from that and no matter your opinion on the topic, there is something more troubling to me. Despite the assertions on "Fresh Air" that rulings on homosexual marriage will continue to be a state-by-state decision, the Massachusetts supreme court has actually dictated policy for the nation. States recognize marriages performed in other states. If I'm married in Wisconsin, I'm still married if I move to South Carolina, Washington, Hawaii, or any other state. However, if a homosexual couple marries in Massachusetts and then moves to any other state that bans homosexual marriage, that couple will be able to sue for recognition of their marriage. If that suit occurs in a state where the ban is part of the state constitution, the suit will almost certainly and automatically be appealed to the United States Supreme Court, and its decision will be binding across the Union. Massachusetts has, unfortunately, thrown down a gauntlet to the rest of the nation.

Despite all that, I have to say that I am extremely uncomfortable with the idea of a national constitutional ammendment defining marriage as between a man and a woman. This is not something that ought to be that big. It ought to be common sense. Apparently it is not, so many feel that further definition on a nationally-binding scale is necessary. Yet an ammendment sounds to me like something that could result in a situation similar to Prohibition, where we strictly outlaw something nationwide only to cause it to prosper illegally and eventually force a repeal.

I hate politics and hate having to think about these things. :-( "Why did the ring ever come to me?"

What's in a name . . .

You may be wondering, "Why 'epiphany?' What does that have to do with anything, and why in particular would Jonathan choose it for his blog's name?" The answer's two-fold yet pretty basic:

First, the Day of Epiphany (also called Twelfth Night) comes twelve days after Christmas. According to church tradition, the magi brought their gifts to Jesus on Epiphany. If I remember correctly, those of Orthodox tradition reserve their gift-giving until that day. Additionally (and more important for the naming of my page), twelve days after Christmas is my birthday. I suppose I could have called the page "Twelfth Night," but that would seem to demand a certain amount of Shakespearean content. Shakespeare's interesting, but I don't plan to major on him here.

Secondly, the common understanding of the word "epiphany" involves a sudden or enlightening idea. I tend to do a lot of thinking and figured a blog would be a good way to get some of my ideas written down rather than just floating around in my head. Writing will force me to communicate the thoughts clearly, and feedback/comments will help sharpen the ideas. Playing ideas off one another often helps generate new ideas. Hopefully some of the bantering will lead to genuine epiphanies in our lives: thought without action is less than a dream.

So, because of the birthday tie-in and the inherent funkiness of the word, I've been wanting to use "epiphany" as the name of something for a few years. As an undergrad in film school, I planned to call my someday production company "Epiphany Films." Since the company hasn't materialized, I figure that I might as well get some use out of the name!

Welcome

Welcome to epiphany. I'm hoping that this will become a place to discuss life, the universe and everything (not too broad there). Some posts will be observations of my day. Others may be topics that I've been thinking about for quite a while--sometimes years. No matter what the entry, I hope that it will be thought-provoking, useful and entertaining, or any mixture thereof.

Let the blog begin!