Hail The iPod!

Ipod_1Okay, that allusion is rather obscure, so four points (instead of the usual two) to the person who can supply the two consonants needed to complete the allusion, as well as identifying its source. (Tim J has a shot at this, I happen to know.)

That said, not only may “Hail the iPod!” be obscure, the concept of an iPod itself may be obscure for some folks.

Despite all the buzz about them on the ‘Net, an awful lot of folks aren’t sufficiently addicted to modern media trends (despite Madison Avenue’s best efforts in that regard) to have become iPod-obsessed yet.

Recently, in fact, someone asked me the very sensible question: “What is an iPod?”

I explained it by saying: “It’s like a digital Walkman.”

For anyone remotely tuned in to consumer electronics after 1980, that would do the trick, and it did.

For those even more immune to the blandishments of Madison Avenue, I’ll offer a slightly elaborated elaboration: An iPod is a hand-held device designed to do basically one thing—play audio files like a tape recorder, only without the tape.

Most of the time people play music on their iPods, but they also play spoken-word files, like audiobooks. A favorite format for these files (though not the only one) is the much-touted “.mp3” format that you may have heard of.

How it works is this:

  1. You pay for sound files that you download off the Internet and onto your computer, or your copy sound files from your CD collection (which you paid for) onto your computer. Or you make your own sound files (which you don’t need to pay for since you’re the copyright holder).
  2. Then you transfer these sound files to your iPod and then you go out in public and listen to them like a blissed out zombie through tiny electrodes attached to your braintiny earpieces. This is a process known as “capping.”
  3. You steal music and put it on the iPod and work it off in purgatory and (possibly) jail.

The thing is: iPods are really cool. Almost as cool as digital watches used to be. And they’re all the rage.

One can see why!

I bought an iPod a while back and have been using it constantly. It came in particularly useful on my recent trip. I’ve only filled up my (40 gig) iPod by 10%, but that 10% gives me 12.4 days of continuous listening without having to hear the same song twice (if I don’t want to). At this rate, I could fit four months (124 days) of solid listening onto my iPod.

As you can see, you can fit a huge amount of sound onto an iPod, and it makes packing for a long trip much easier (for me, anyway).

Of late I’ve been taking along all kinds of music CDs on trips, as well as a bunch of abridged audiobooks (since unabridged audiobooks take up too many CDs and are hard to get and expensive), as well as a lot of dead tree books that I’d rather have in electronic format.

Not anymore! (Mostly.)

This time I didn’t take any music CDs or any audiobooks on CD. I just too my iPod, which contained more music and more (unabridged!) audiobooks and downloaded radio shows than I could possibly listen to on the trip. All of the bulky audio stuff I would normally have taken to keep myself aurally entertained and informed was replaced by one tiny device not much bigger than a pack of cards.

My suitcase loved me.

The iPod even replaced dead tree books that I would have previously taken. As I mentioned, the morning I left, I downloaded Cardinal Ratzinger’s interview audiobook Salt of the Earth (from Audible.Com).

But that’s not all!

I’d also converted tons of public-domain writings by fiction authors like H. P. Lovecraft and others to .mp3 format, and these also whacked down on the number of dead tree books I would ordinarily have taken, consuming valuable space and putting additional weight load on my suitcase.

I still succumbed to the temptation of taking a few of books not yet available in electronic form (such as Cardinal Ratzinger’s Introduction to Christianity and Truth and Tolerance), but my suitcase loved me anyway. For a bibliophile such as myself, this was a real change!

To bend the old TV Land slogan, it was “Better Living—Through Technology!”

Let This Cup Pass?

It seems that my reflection on Benedict XVI’s "human moment" in accepting the papacy was significantl on the mark.

After writing the post I discovered an article in which it’s reported that Cardinal Ratzinger actually prayed that God would not have him elected pope.

EXCERPT:

"I prayed to the Lord that they would elect someone stronger than I, but in that prayer he obviously did not listen to me," the Holy Father said today during a meeting in Paul VI Hall with some 5,000 Germans who came to Rome to support him at the start of his pontificate.

"I want to tell you something about the conclave without violating the secrecy," the former Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger said. "I never thought I would be elected, nor did I do anything to make it happen, but when slowly the unfolding of the votes led me to understand that the ‘guillotine’ was coming closer and looking at me, I asked God to spare me this fate."

He said he then remembered a letter that he had with him from a German cardinal. That cardinal reminded his countryman what he said at Pope John Paul II’s funeral Mass, quoting Jesus’ words to Peter, and encouraged him that "if the Lord addressed that ‘follow me’ to me, I could not refuse the call."

"The Lord’s ways are not easy, but we are not made for ease; therefore, I could only say ‘yes’ to the election," Benedict XVI said in German in his impromptu address to his compatriots.

"I thought that my work in this life had ended and that years of tranquility awaited me," he added.

GET THE STORY.

A Human Moment

Benedictxvi

It’s been over a week now since God graced us with the election of his holiness, Pope Benedict XVI. On the day it happened, I was elated—and I still am!

Unfortunately, that day was the day I had to go out of town. I had only three hours between the time his election was announced and when I had to leave, and into that time I had to finish last minute packing, last minute message checking, last minute things at work—plus a couple of media appearances to comment on the election.

It was hectic!

Amid this swirl of events, I tossed a couple of ex-Cardinal Ratzinger’s books in my suitcase for reading on the trip and downloaded the audiobook version of Salt of the Earth for listening on my iPod. (Cowboy hat tip to the commenter who pointed out it is available from Audible.Com!)

But I had no time (substantively speaking) for blogging on the event.

Since I’m back, I thought I’d share with you something I thought when I first saw Benedict XVI emerge to greet the crowd and the world, waving his arms and smiling.

I thought he was having a very human moment.

Lemme ’splain: I am as certain as a certain certaintor on Certainty Day that Benedict XVI was God’s choice for pope. There were several fine gentlemen in the college of cardinals who could have served as worthy—even outstanding—successors to John Paul II (and to Peter), but Cardinal Ratzinger stood out like a gemstone, and I am thrilled and delighted that the divine element in the conclave expressed itself through the human element of the cardinals.

But the human element is always there. The cardinals could have used their free will in such a way that they could have elected an unworthy or even disastrous successor. However unlikely it was that this would happen (and I pointed out its unlikeliness before the conclave), it still remained up to the cardinals to exercise their free will in harmony with the motions of God’s grace.

And they did!

Among them was Cardinal Ratzinger, who had to accept his election in order to become pope.

He had to continue accepting his election on an emotional level even afterwards, and it seemed to me that he was still in the process of doing this when he first appeared.

When I saw the new pope emerge on the balcony, I detected something in his smile and wave and posture that suggested to me that the human element of the man born Josef Ratzinger was still adjusting to the new reality. The divine element of his role as the Vicar of Christ was still sinking in on him.

He was nervous. He wasn’t comfortable with his new role yet. He was doing what needed to be done in such a moment, but on a human level he still felt like a humble cardinal “playing the role” of pope—not one comfortable with the role and the weight of responsibility that God had placed on his shoulders.

It reminded me of a moment in I, Claudius where, just after Claudius has been proclaimed emperor, he keeps taking his crown off in private and tells his friend, Herod Agrippa, “I feel like a fraud!”

Herod places the crown back on Claudius’ head and wisely tells him: “You won’t once you begin to work.”

I suspect something like that is happening here.

Benedict XVI originally emerged onto the balcony still feeling like he was Cardinal Ratzinger. But as he sets his hand to the plough and pushes more furrows through the ecclesiastical ground, he will feel more and more like what he is: Benedict XVI.

There’s nothing like experience on the job.

Howdy, Folks!

I’m back from my trip to Kentucky and am now digging into get back to regular blogging.

Found over 160 new pieces of (non-spam) e-mail waiting for me when I got back, so that should give me a running start on new topics (in addition to those I’ve thought up in my absence).

I want to thank those who e-mailed for their patience while I attempt to work through the backlog.

I also want to say a special thanks to my co-bloggers for their valiant efforts in my absence! I really appreciate the assist, guys, so public kudos to y’all!

The Shepherd And The Cats

While cruising around the Catholic Answers Forums recently, I came across a thread titled "Papa Ratz & the cats" discussing an article on our new Pope that mentions his fondness for cats.  In the course of the thread, while discussing Pope Benedict’s new nickname "The German Shepherd," a participant linked to an image that I have decided is my now-favorite image of this new papacy:

The Good Shepherd (Sorry, I haven’t gotten the image display capability mastered yet.)

Cats are very independent creatures, used to having things their own way.  They may deign to show you affection occasionally … usually when they are trying to con you into tuna and cream or an ear scratch.  In other words, they’re independent until they want something out of you, which makes them a better symbol of the American (and Western) spirit than the bald eagle.

Someone I once spoke with used this simile for a difficult task: "I bet it’s as easy as herding cats."  That image stuck with me, and I’m glad it did, because that is what our new Pope is being called to do: To be a German Shepherd corralling a herd of cats.  The image linked above is a vivid image of the reality that I’m sure he’ll be up to the job.  I’ve ordered a copy of the print, though, and plan to use it as a visual reminder to pray for His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI and to pray for the flock of cats under his care.

Wanted: Dead And Alive

I don’t know what upsets me the most about WorldNetDaily‘s recent article on a pregnant woman who tried to abort her son and then tried to save him when he was born alive but was ignored by the abortion clinic’s staff. Was it the fact that the mother sought a "painless," "humane" murder of her son? Yes, but on the positive side, she appears to have been truly distraught over the entire episode and sincerely repentant once she held her squirming son but was unable to get anyone to help her save his life.

"[The baby’s] right leg moved. He curled up a bit like he was cold; I screamed for Violene [a staff member]! No one came. I managed to get to the doorway, pants down, blood everywhere and yelled again. I went back to my baby. I heard her say she’d be right there.

"I showed her Rowan [the child], told her he was alive and moving and to call 911! She took a quick look, said he’s not moving now and she’d be back to take care of things while walking out. I called her again. I was touching Rowan softly and he moved again. I called her back. Rowan jumped, I think startled by the loud sound of my calling for help. I showed her that he was moving and alive. I begged her to hurry and call 911, now!"

I guess what it must have been the clinic’s entirely unresponsive reaction to the whole situation. The mother reports being ignored, then being told to hand over her child, then being handed a "bag of medicine" before being shown the door. This, I guess, is the scary part. There’s almost a numbness, a deadness, in the various reactions of the staff.

But then I guess, logically speaking, such reactions on the staff’s part makes the most sense of all; however hideous such reactions also are.

GET THE STORY.

(Nod to Some Have Hats for the link.  WARNING: Graphic pictures.  Apologies for failing to note this earlier.)

What If We Found A New Letter Of Paul? (Part Two)

Earlier I suggested that the only way a significant movement to include a new document in the New Testament would get started was if we found something that looked like an authentic, first century apostolic epistle, gospel, or proto-gospel.

Let me clarify what I mean by the latter.

It is standardly assumed that there are lost sources behind the four gospels as we have them. The most talked about is a source called "Q," which is allegedly where a bunch of the material in Matthew and Luke comes from. It is not clear whether Q was an oral source or a written source, but many assume the latter. It also is not clear if Q even existed (there are other ways to account for the material besides positing Q and there are arguments against Q), though this is the standard claim these days. (Personally, I’m not convinced, though I’m open.)

Luke, at any rate, mentions that he used written sources in composing his gospel, and unless he’s referring exclusively to Matthew and Mark, that means there’s a lost source.

If we turned up Q or something else that looked like it might be a source behind the canonical gospels, that would be what I’m calling a "proto-gospel," and it would really set the cat among the pidgeons. The scholarly debates would be endless.

And it would be one of the few things that could conceivably spartk a New Testament inclusion movement.

How would that play out?

First, there’d be a buncha folks going "Ooo! Aaaah!" over the document in an uncritical manner and it would sell a bazillion copies.

Then there’d be a buncha folks going "I’m very favorably impressed, but we mustn’t be hasty."

Then there’s be a buncha folks going "Hey, let’s reserve judgement on this thing."

Then there’d be a buncha folks going, "This looks fake to me."

And finally there’d be a buncha folks going "This new document is of the devil!"

There’d be a big fight that would remain inconclusive for some time, probably generations.

Eventually, some publisher might decide to stick the document in Bibles it’s printing. Then there would be another huge controversy over this. (To mitigate it, the publisher might print the document as an appendix, not claiming it to be authentic or inspired but merely "useful," but that would still start a huge controversy.)

In the end, though, standard Bible would continue to outsell the ones that had the document in it. A few Christians (in newly-created denominations following denominational divides over the new book) might use it, but traditional Christians–who would be and would remain the great majority–would not include it in their Bibles, however fascinated or perplexed they might be by it.

What would the Catholic Church do?

Nothing.

Certainly in the beginning.

In our lifetimes we might get a few cautionary statements, but the attitude of the Church would very much be a "Let’s wait and see" attitude. The Church is not about to preemptorially endorse a work of such a sensitive nature if it might turn out to be fake. Neither is it about to preemptorially condemn such a work if it might turn out to be genuine. We’d get cautionary statements telling Catholics not to regard it as Scripture but to otherwise reserve judgement on it, and that would be about it.

And that’s probably the way it would stay.

Forever.

Hypothetically, the Church could use its infallibility to make a determination that the document falls into one of the following classes:

  1. Fake
  2. Authentic but not inspired
  3. Authentic and inspired but not to be included in the New Testament
  4. Authenatic and inspired and to be included in the New Testament

But the odds of any such determination at any date, even long after our lifetimes, would be very, very low.

The reason is that not making a determination would be so much easier than making one. It would be hard to prove it fake since, per supposition, we’ve already said that it appears authentic.

It would be hard to prove it authentic but not inspired since (a) we have no independent test for inspiration besides Tradition (which is absent here) and (b) we have no precedent for an authentically apostolic work that is non-inspired.

It would be hard to prove it authentic and inspired but not to be included among the Scriptures because of (a) the lack of a test for inspiration apart from Tradition and (b) we have no precedent for an inspired work that is not to be included in the Scriptures.

It would be hard to prove that it should be put in Scripture because (a) again, no independent tst for inspiration and (b) we have no precedent for including new works in Scripture.

The Church would thus find it much easier to simply downplay the matter, to be open to what value the document might have historically, but not to do anything to encourage folks to think of it on the same plane as the known Scriptures.

The only way I can see an infallible determination being made would be if, probably after centuries, a huge controversy was tearing the Church apart and one was needed for pastoral reasons.

In that case the likelihood would be that the decision would come down this way:

While this document may have many useful and instructive things to tell us, the Holy Spirit did not choose in His providence to shepherd it into the New Testament at the time it was codified. He did not choose to have it be part of the patrimony of Christendom down through the ages. Consequently, since the Scriptures as they have been historically known form the patrimony of the Church that God intended it to have uniquely in all ages of its development, it is hereby infallibly defined that the new document–whatever value it may have–is not to be placed in the canon of Scripture.

Only it’d be said more flowery than that.

What If We Found A New Letter Of Paul? (Part One)

The recent and ongoing decipherment of the Oxyrhynchus papyri raises a question of what the Christian community would do if we found a new Christian document purporting to be from the first century, say a new letter of St. Paul or a "lost gospel."

The paramount question in folks minds would be: Should this be added to the New Testament?

There are parallels for this already.

In the 20th century we found a whole slew of early Christian and semi-Christian documents. In particular, the Nag Hammadi find gave us a bunch of Gnostic gospels dating from the second and third centuries.

Did those get added?

Nope. We got a bunch of breathless documentaries on The History Channel and A & E, and a bunch of folks got confused by them, but there was no serious move to add them to the New Testament. Not even the Jesus’ Seminar’s publication of the Gospel of Thomas alongside the four canonical gospels caused any serious move to add it to the New Testament in the broader Christian community.

The reason is that these documents have almost no historical value and were written way after the apostolic age, automatically disqualifying them from New Testament inclusion in the eyes of traditional Christians.

If Oxyrhynchus turns out to have more of the same, expect more of the same.

But what if we find something from the first century?

Again: It’s already happened.

We’ve long had Clement’s epistle, which dates from the late first century. We’ve also got things like the Epistle of Pseudo-Barnabas and the Didache, both of which are first century texts.

There has been no move to include these in the New Testament either. While Clement was a pope, he wasn’t closely enough associated with the apostles for his epistle to make it in. It also contains material that, to modern eyes, would make it problematic to include (e.g., his seeming treatment of the phoenix as if it were a real bird).

Pseudo-Barnabas is even worse in that regard (he gets his biology demonstrably wrong regarding rabbits–saying that hares develop a new bodily orifice [apparently on their posteriors] for each year of life, kind of the way trees get rings).

And the Didache, despite its presentation as "the teaching of the twelve apostles" was demonstrably late and not clearly written by apostles or their associates, however much useful info it may have on first century Christianity.

So the mere find of a first century document would not create a mass movement to stick it in the New Testament.

The only way that would even conceivably get started would be if we found what appeared to be a first century gospel, proto-gospel, or epistle of an apostle.

If we found something that looked like the epistle to the Hebrews, for example, that contained lots of neat doctrine but doesn’t claim to be written by an apostle, no mass inclusion movement would begin.

Even if we got something by a known New Testament figure, like Timothy or Sylvanus or Apollos, there wouldn’t be a big inclusion movement.

Only if we got an apostolic epistle, a gospel, or a proto-gospel would a significant inclusion movement even get started.

What would happen then?

See next blog post.

Oh, No – Not Again…

This is either the coolest gross job, or the grossest cool job that I know of. This Fin whale washed up on the beach in Florida and scientists performed a "necropsy" (even the term is gross) to determine how the whale died and it’s condition before. I think it would be fascinating work.
I will let the readers check out the details of the CNN.com. story for themselves.
It was determined that the whale was probably struck by a ship.
The whale’s last thoughts are believed to have been "I wonder if it will be friends with me?"

Our Lady Of The Underpass, Redux

Kewly enough, I noticed that my humble post on "Our Lady of the Underpass" has been picked up elsewhere. However, not all readers of this blog have yet picked up on the distinction that JimmyAkin.org is currently a group blog, so my post was mistakenly attributed to Jimmy. James White of Alpha & Omega Ministries writes:

"And finally, Dave Armstrong saw my note on Mary stains, and has fulfilled my wildest dreams by telling his fellow Catholics to get a grip (a little paraphrase there). Thank you Mr. Armstrong. Now, if you could be so kind as to go down to Chicago and try that out in front of all those folks lighting candles, I’d like to see their reaction. Or, how about cleaning the stain off the wall while explaining that? Yes, that would be interesting. But maybe Armstrong will comment on this amazing comment cited by Jimmy Akin about the same ‘stains.’"

[White here cites the original post. His editorial comment: "Um … yeah, wow. OK."]

Since the post has garnered a bit of controversy, even within the comments section of my post itself, I decided that a bit of clarification would be helpful:

The commenter I cited, a reader of Relapsed Catholic, implicitly agreed that the stains on the wall in question are just that, stains. As one reader of my post pointed out, when Mary actually appears, she simply appears. In all true apparitions, it’s really Mary, not an image in toast, oil, or any other material thing:

"These things ARE NOT MARY. They are nothing, just shadows, oil slicks, water stains. Our Lady NEVER appears IN something, IN some medium. She simply APPEARS. I am really sick of these stories, they really get my goat. Don’t these people know ANYTHING about verified Marian appearances? Rant over. For now" (emphasis is the reader’s).

(As a quick side note, even the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, miraculously impressed on St. Juan Diego’s tilma, is just that: An image.  It was an image given as a sign to verify the reality of the apparitions given to St. Juan Diego himself.)

The distinction the person I quoted was trying to make, a distinction with which I agreed, is that it is in line with a genuinely Catholic piety to consider shapes vaguely similar to Mary to be images — icons, if you will — of Mary placed within creation. If such shapes are indeed placed within creation, then God does it; something Relapsed Catholic’s commenter states whimsically by attributing the deed to the Child Jesus scribbling pictures of Mommy.

The Catholic worldview is an inherently sacramental and incarnational worldview. Because Catholics experience God spiritually through the physical reality of the sacraments, it is natural for them to instinctively see God’s hand at work in the physical order of things. That sacramental experience of God enables Catholics to draw more deeply from the reality of the Incarnation than might non-sacramental Christians who only experience God cerebrally. Thus, Catholics can draw connections that might otherwise horrify non-sacramental Christians. "Our Lady of the Underpass" is one example.

As another example, I once read a book on St. Joseph which quoted a Catholic saying that he especially loved St. Joseph because St. Joseph taught God how to be a man. When I first read that, I loved the idea but realized that this was a deeply Catholic sentiment that might well repulse Protestant Fundamentalists. It’s not because they would disagree that Joseph was entrusted by God to raise and rear Jesus Christ; it’s because they have not deeply pondered, as Catholics have over many centuries, what it means for God to have chosen to become a man.  What it means that he chose to enter humanity as a baby rather than as a man full-grown.  The repulsion would be the first instinct, the pious Christian reaction that it is impossible for man to teach God anything, even, to a certain extent, how to be a man.  It would take deeper reflection to realize that there is nothing wrong with saying that Christ’s earthly father taught him some of what it means to be a man, just as human fathers do for human sons.

Getting back to the original point: In short, yes, designs that appear to resemble Mary should not be mistaken for "apparitions" around which followings presumably develop. At best, such natural designs of sacred images are natural icons open to interpretation by others who may see other, non-sacred designs in them. Just like icons, such images should not be worshipped, but if they point the person onward to Mary and through her to Christ, neither should they be condemned. (And, in distinction to sacred icons, which should be treated with the reverence due such icons, there would be nothing wrong with eating a "Marian" grilled-cheese sandwich or scrubbing a "Marian" oil slick from a wall.)

Those non-sacramental Christians critiquing the Catholic reaction to such images should at least remember that the Catholic worldview is finely attuned to seeing the supernatural within the natural creation of God. Such Christians may not understand the conclusions Catholic draw from such a sensitivity to creation, but should at least be able to agree that it expresses a genuine Christian sentiment that all creation (which includes sandwiches and oil slicks), of which Christ is the firstborn, was created in Christ and for Christ, and thus gives glory to him (cf. Col. 1:15-16).