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Friday, December 31, 2010
Pan-Am Open game
I didn't have a lot of exciting games in the Open, but my last round game was a very well-played match with myself as black and Sam Schnakel (an Illinois expert) as white. In spite of having only the increment for about the last 10-12 moves I created sufficient problems to pull out the win. It was a little hairy and the computer pointed out a couple of nuances we both missed, but it was also exciting and generally a quality game. Here it is for your enjoyment.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
My Christmas Giving Philosophy
I love to give. I don't so much love to give for Christmas. I think it has something to do with being a natural contrarian. I like to keep the majority in check. So, each year comes this annual festival of giving and it's the time of year when I feel least like presenting somebody close with something of worth. Part of the appeal of a gift is in its surprise. I love surprising people.
After some consideration I came up with the following procedure for Christmas giving: Don't give much, but mean what you give. That's part one. I don't go out and buy expensive stuff at Christmas. A) I don't have money (but that's somewhat a lie... I have make-believe loan money that will actually pay for things), but more importantly B) I don't feel it's warranted. My natural counter-cultural-ness says that I should be giving a real gift this season--not just something expected by people close to me. What I should really be giving is myself.
This involves a very simple philosophy for me: Total the money I give in buying presents and give half of that amount away completely to organizations and people I do not know. The funny thing is that I feel better about that gift than I do about the gifts I give to friends/family every time. Never fails.
I don't give much. I'm not ashamed about that. Giving is a sea-change in how we live, not a once-a-year happening. So, if you don't get me anything don't worry; I'd rather you give it away anyway.
After some consideration I came up with the following procedure for Christmas giving: Don't give much, but mean what you give. That's part one. I don't go out and buy expensive stuff at Christmas. A) I don't have money (but that's somewhat a lie... I have make-believe loan money that will actually pay for things), but more importantly B) I don't feel it's warranted. My natural counter-cultural-ness says that I should be giving a real gift this season--not just something expected by people close to me. What I should really be giving is myself.
This involves a very simple philosophy for me: Total the money I give in buying presents and give half of that amount away completely to organizations and people I do not know. The funny thing is that I feel better about that gift than I do about the gifts I give to friends/family every time. Never fails.
I don't give much. I'm not ashamed about that. Giving is a sea-change in how we live, not a once-a-year happening. So, if you don't get me anything don't worry; I'd rather you give it away anyway.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Why I love Lucy
No, this isn't about an old television show. I just saw Dawn Treader for the second time (not because it was that good... it was good... but mostly to get away from homework and hang with some other friends). There are several reasons to love this movie. For one, it is the best book of the series. I'm sorry to the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe fanatics. Yes, Lewis opened up Narnia in that book, but here he gives it form and function that is rivaled only in The Horse and His Boy. The setting, the magic, the idea of Aslan's country and the scene on the precipice of it are just splendid.
But none of that is why I adored this movie. In fact, I found this most attractive for something that the producers changed from the original stories. I know the Lewis die-hards will hate this, but one of the reasons the Narnia series has never reached the level of appreciation in my life that Harry Potter and even the Chronicles of Prydain have is because the characters in Narnia are so one-dimensional. I don't understand this from Lewis because he writes in On Stories and elsewhere that the imagination of children should not be limited by adult misconceptions, and here he is crafting the main character (outside of Aslan) in his series as a one-dimensional child.
I'm talking about Lucy Pevensie. In the books I can sum her up with a sentence. She is a pure child whose only challenge is fighting off the temptation to seek earthly beauty and grown-up-ness at the cost of a child-like attitude and faith. It's a great example, but hardly one I can relate to. And I think it is one hard to relate to for kids today who are actually at the point of social pressure (which is happening earlier and earlier).
But I said I liked what the movies did.
And I do! It started small in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by giving her a dagger. It didn't matter much to the plot, but it was a sign of things to come. We didn't see much in Prince Caspian, so I have to admit I feared she would sink into oblivion. And then came the Dawn Treader. Here we have a Lucy with a sword, a Lucy with an attitude, a Lucy still tempted but growing, learning, becoming more than a childish girl. It's not fair to apply Lewis' standards for girls to a different era, so I'm not going to blame him for his Lucy of literature. Instead, I want to lift up the Lucy of this film. She was brilliant. Cute. But a whole lot more than that. As much as Eustace Scrubb was the character that will be remembered, Lucy is the character that gives meaning to the story that brings us oh so close to the boundaries of Aslan's country.
But none of that is why I adored this movie. In fact, I found this most attractive for something that the producers changed from the original stories. I know the Lewis die-hards will hate this, but one of the reasons the Narnia series has never reached the level of appreciation in my life that Harry Potter and even the Chronicles of Prydain have is because the characters in Narnia are so one-dimensional. I don't understand this from Lewis because he writes in On Stories and elsewhere that the imagination of children should not be limited by adult misconceptions, and here he is crafting the main character (outside of Aslan) in his series as a one-dimensional child.
I'm talking about Lucy Pevensie. In the books I can sum her up with a sentence. She is a pure child whose only challenge is fighting off the temptation to seek earthly beauty and grown-up-ness at the cost of a child-like attitude and faith. It's a great example, but hardly one I can relate to. And I think it is one hard to relate to for kids today who are actually at the point of social pressure (which is happening earlier and earlier).
But I said I liked what the movies did.
And I do! It started small in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by giving her a dagger. It didn't matter much to the plot, but it was a sign of things to come. We didn't see much in Prince Caspian, so I have to admit I feared she would sink into oblivion. And then came the Dawn Treader. Here we have a Lucy with a sword, a Lucy with an attitude, a Lucy still tempted but growing, learning, becoming more than a childish girl. It's not fair to apply Lewis' standards for girls to a different era, so I'm not going to blame him for his Lucy of literature. Instead, I want to lift up the Lucy of this film. She was brilliant. Cute. But a whole lot more than that. As much as Eustace Scrubb was the character that will be remembered, Lucy is the character that gives meaning to the story that brings us oh so close to the boundaries of Aslan's country.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The BCS: Making the Candidacy Process Look Simple and Logical Since 1998
For those unfamiliar the BCS is the way that the powers that be determine who gets to play for the National Championship. It is two human polls and a compilation of six computer rankings designed by professional math geeks, football wonks, and some people who—not a little surprisingly—don’t know anything about either. In essence, the BCS is a model of human sinfulness. It takes the gospel of football and dilutes it with biased commentary, hour-long ESPN specials dedicated to computer formulas, and more non sequiturs per Craig James opinion piece than should be allowable under FCC regulations. What the BCS is really about is taking away the influence of actual football games and putting it in the hands of talk-show style personalities who debate which teams are deserving of their rankings week in and week out. In what other sport can you win every game in a season and never get to play for a championship? Maybe croquet, I don’t know.
Why then doesn’t college football institute a playoff system to include all the undefeated teams, as well as the best of the one and two-loss teams?
That would make a lot of sense in a gospel-driven football system, but Satan is poking his head out around the corner in the guise of television networks, corporate partners, and Ohio State University presidents. Losing the BCS might lose them money, but that is debatable. The real reason they won’t give up the BCS is because it gives them power. That is the root of human sinfulness—power over the lowly.
Since the beginning of time, sports have offered prime examples of the meek rising above adversity and defeating seemingly superior opponents. Even if you are a seminary nerd you have probably heard of the movie Hoosiers, the Springboks of South Africa winning the Rugby World Cup in the shadow of Apartheid, or the U.S. Miracle on Ice victory over the Soviets (God have mercy on your soul if you aren’t aware of the last). The history of sports is marked by David defeating Goliath. That is, up until the advent of the BCS.
No longer can we enjoy watching a game on a Saturday afternoon without being subjected to substance-less hype about who so-and-so projects to be the best teams in the country. If you turn off the volume you’ll still see the graphics, though admittedly you will not have to listen to commentators pretend to understand what all the math means. I’ve even heard that ESPN is marketing a new braille BCS ticker for the blind to keep up on the latest rankings—I made that part up but don’t put it past them. If there’s a market, count on the BCS to wring every last penny out of it with no respect either for the student or athlete part of student-athlete.
I can think of only two small bits of comfort for those of us unfortunate enough to even remotely care about college football. The first is that it makes the rest of our lives seem somewhat logical and functional. Seriously, next time you start to question the career path that God is leading you on, thank your lucky stars that it has nothing to do with the BCS. In fact, it removes that sin from your conscience completely by taking all your weekends for the rest of your life. That, my friends, is a blessing. And secondly—and most importantly—we here in Minnesota who call ourselves Gopher fans will never need to worry about the letters B-C-S. That’s not a projection—it’s a guarantee.
Things I do not understand...
Three things are too wonderful for me;
four I do not understand:
the way of an eagle in the sky,
the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
and the way of a man with a girl. (Proverbs 30:18-19)
Thanks to Dr. Schifferdecker for bringing up that beauty. I have a big Concord article posting tomorrow, but just wanted to share a brief word today since it's been a couple weeks. There it was.
four I do not understand:
the way of an eagle in the sky,
the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
and the way of a man with a girl. (Proverbs 30:18-19)
Thanks to Dr. Schifferdecker for bringing up that beauty. I have a big Concord article posting tomorrow, but just wanted to share a brief word today since it's been a couple weeks. There it was.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Nine years later
Last night I had a bit of nostalgia while sitting at the Willow Creek Theater, catching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the second time with the family. It suddenly hit me that it was nine years ago on Thanksgiving that I went with my family to first see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. How life runs in circles!
Nine years ago I was a sophomore in high school. Holy crap. A lot has changed. I started writing after seeing the movie. I'd never written before... I mean outside of school-work and AOL messenger. That was about it, but thereafter I came to enjoy writing for fun. I don't know how many hundreds, probably thousands, of pages I've written since that day, but in some small part it all comes back to nine years ago.
Life changes, people come and go. I've learned a lot, changed quite a bit, and I've grown up with Harry alongside. It's a strange, perhaps dorky, thing that it has had such a profound influence on the last nearly decade of my life, but then again I look at what others hang on to and I wonder if maybe it isn't so preposterous after all.
I'm working on setting up an independent study this spring on common narratives in contemporary preaching with Harry Potter as its focus. My initial course title idea is "Preaching Harry Potter: HP as preeminent sermon symbol". Here's the gist of it: we don't have shared narratives these days in the same way that my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents did. We don't work the same kinds of jobs (agriculture, farming, mining, stocks, whatever). These days our jobs, families, and private lives are as diverse as could be. And so we don't know each other anymore; we don't share things, and we especially don't share common stories.
So, this makes preaching difficult. With few common lived narratives, there are precious few things that everyone can relate to. Preachers are forced to use either church-y symbols that don't have any meaning to people for the rest of the week, symbols that they themselves find meaningful (which will connect with only a small proportion of the congregation), or stories from the news and symbols in popular culture.
But our news stories are so diversified and polarized along politic lines that outside of massive events like September 11 we don't share the same news. And even when we do, our opinions cloud the way we relate to any shared national or local, political narrative. A preacher who uses primarily the news as example will undoubtedly alienate.
So what are we left with?
Well, I think there are only a few things we still share communally. Sports is one. Even if you don't follow football or baseball it remains a shared, local narrative that is meaningful to a group of people. Yet, I don't think sports are quite universal; the divides here are more along gender lines than anything else. There are plenty of women who enjoy football and men who enjoy swimming or gymnastics, but when you talk about one or the other you are inevitably bringing up inherent divisions.
So, the only thing I can think of that bridges all these gaps is a story, one so powerful and persistent that it speaks both to young and old, white and black, male and female. It is the story of our lives, even if we think it is only the story of a young wizard boy. I get a little agitated, I must admit, when I see young people dressed up like witches and wizards for midnight showings and book releases, because the point of HP is not to try to leave this world for a better one in which you can cast spells. No, the point is that you are already Harry, you are already Hermione, you are Ron or Luna or Snape or Malfoy or Dobby, and you are going to go through the same things they do. Magic is incidental to the narrative that we all share. That is the power that nine years later I still feel. It is the reason I want to share a story. This story is big enough to mean something. It's big enough to be preached, because it points inevitably back to what is true and good in this world. The gospel of Harry Potter is that we are Harry, saved before we could do a thing about it. That is a symbol we can all hold to.
Nine years ago I was a sophomore in high school. Holy crap. A lot has changed. I started writing after seeing the movie. I'd never written before... I mean outside of school-work and AOL messenger. That was about it, but thereafter I came to enjoy writing for fun. I don't know how many hundreds, probably thousands, of pages I've written since that day, but in some small part it all comes back to nine years ago.
Life changes, people come and go. I've learned a lot, changed quite a bit, and I've grown up with Harry alongside. It's a strange, perhaps dorky, thing that it has had such a profound influence on the last nearly decade of my life, but then again I look at what others hang on to and I wonder if maybe it isn't so preposterous after all.
I'm working on setting up an independent study this spring on common narratives in contemporary preaching with Harry Potter as its focus. My initial course title idea is "Preaching Harry Potter: HP as preeminent sermon symbol". Here's the gist of it: we don't have shared narratives these days in the same way that my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents did. We don't work the same kinds of jobs (agriculture, farming, mining, stocks, whatever). These days our jobs, families, and private lives are as diverse as could be. And so we don't know each other anymore; we don't share things, and we especially don't share common stories.
So, this makes preaching difficult. With few common lived narratives, there are precious few things that everyone can relate to. Preachers are forced to use either church-y symbols that don't have any meaning to people for the rest of the week, symbols that they themselves find meaningful (which will connect with only a small proportion of the congregation), or stories from the news and symbols in popular culture.
But our news stories are so diversified and polarized along politic lines that outside of massive events like September 11 we don't share the same news. And even when we do, our opinions cloud the way we relate to any shared national or local, political narrative. A preacher who uses primarily the news as example will undoubtedly alienate.
So what are we left with?
Well, I think there are only a few things we still share communally. Sports is one. Even if you don't follow football or baseball it remains a shared, local narrative that is meaningful to a group of people. Yet, I don't think sports are quite universal; the divides here are more along gender lines than anything else. There are plenty of women who enjoy football and men who enjoy swimming or gymnastics, but when you talk about one or the other you are inevitably bringing up inherent divisions.
So, the only thing I can think of that bridges all these gaps is a story, one so powerful and persistent that it speaks both to young and old, white and black, male and female. It is the story of our lives, even if we think it is only the story of a young wizard boy. I get a little agitated, I must admit, when I see young people dressed up like witches and wizards for midnight showings and book releases, because the point of HP is not to try to leave this world for a better one in which you can cast spells. No, the point is that you are already Harry, you are already Hermione, you are Ron or Luna or Snape or Malfoy or Dobby, and you are going to go through the same things they do. Magic is incidental to the narrative that we all share. That is the power that nine years later I still feel. It is the reason I want to share a story. This story is big enough to mean something. It's big enough to be preached, because it points inevitably back to what is true and good in this world. The gospel of Harry Potter is that we are Harry, saved before we could do a thing about it. That is a symbol we can all hold to.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Review: Deathly Hallows part 1
Saw the HP movie last night at midnight. Here are my initial thoughts:
It was nicely done, included enough of the books to appeal to HP fanatics and was intriguing--I hope--for non-HP fans. It lacked the piecemeal quality that so many of the earlier films did. There was honest dialogue and a good mix of action and intrigue. Also, there were some really fun moments. The scene in the Ministry of Magic with the Polyjuice Potion was classic, well acted, and fun to see the actors retaining Harry, Ron and Hermione's characteristics. Just loved that.
But the scene that made this movie for me was the retelling of the Tale of the Two Brothers by Hermione. I thought this was going to be hard to re-create in film, but the ink blots were fantastic. Whoever decided to do it that was a freaking genius.
Only some small things that bugged me. Seriously, would it have been so hard to put in Wormtail choking himself to make the silver hand relevant? But let's be honest, you're never going to make a Harry Potter fan completely happy.
Anyway, it was a good movie--not the best I've ever seen but enjoyable and hitting close to the heart of what HP is all about, and I'm really looking forward to the sequel.
It was nicely done, included enough of the books to appeal to HP fanatics and was intriguing--I hope--for non-HP fans. It lacked the piecemeal quality that so many of the earlier films did. There was honest dialogue and a good mix of action and intrigue. Also, there were some really fun moments. The scene in the Ministry of Magic with the Polyjuice Potion was classic, well acted, and fun to see the actors retaining Harry, Ron and Hermione's characteristics. Just loved that.
But the scene that made this movie for me was the retelling of the Tale of the Two Brothers by Hermione. I thought this was going to be hard to re-create in film, but the ink blots were fantastic. Whoever decided to do it that was a freaking genius.
Only some small things that bugged me. Seriously, would it have been so hard to put in Wormtail choking himself to make the silver hand relevant? But let's be honest, you're never going to make a Harry Potter fan completely happy.
Anyway, it was a good movie--not the best I've ever seen but enjoyable and hitting close to the heart of what HP is all about, and I'm really looking forward to the sequel.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
And now for something completely different... poker
This isn't about Harry Potter: I realize I have become fairly obsessed with HP recently. I really don't think about this as much as I post about it, but my public identity has become A) Harry Potter, and B) everything else.
However, I do other things in life, including weekly poker night at the seminary on Saturday nights. This last Saturday I lost money for, I think, only the second time this year, but it came on an interesting hand. So, for those of you who care about poker (which may be nobody), here is what happened. I'll tell you what I had, and figure out what I did wrong (or right) in this hand.
Blinds are 5 cents/10 cents. I'm the dealer and I have KJ of clubs. There are five players in the hand. The first two to act both fold, so I raise to $0.30. Ken in the small blind and Josh in the big blind both call.
The flop comes 7clubs/8clubs/10hearts. Ken checks, Josh bets $0.30, I raise to $1.00. Ken and Josh both call.
The turn is a 6 of hearts. Ken checks. Josh bets $2.00. OK, now it gets interesting. I have committed $1.30 to the pot, so the pot is $3.90 before Josh's bet. So I have to commit $2.00 to a $5.90 pot. I'm assuming at this point that Josh has a 9, so he made his straight and I am losing, but I can take the pot with a 9 or a club. That leaves me with potentially 12 outs out of 45 unknown cards. That's a little better than 1/4, which is about what I'm getting on my call with implied odds. So, I make the call.
Then things really get interesting.
Ken goes all-in behind me. Now, Ken had about $10 before this hand started, Josh had about $12 and I had $7.30. Josh calls immediately.
Oh dear. So now I have committed $3.30 to the pot and I have $4.00 remaining. The pot I can win is about $18.00. So, basically I am getting 4-18 on my money. In other words, if I'm getting 22% to win I should be making this call.
I ran the numbers. I'm thinking they both have a 9. If they have nothing else of import I can win the hand with one of the two other 9s or the other 8 clubs. So, best case I have 10 outs. 10/44 (plus the two unknown cards from their hands). 10/44 is... 22.7%... brilliant. So I'm right at that boundary. I decided to go for it and make the call. Probably the wrong decision.
Ken shows 9/9, and Josh has 10clubs/Qclubs.
Disaster. Josh has two of my clubs, so I'm only getting 8/42 or 19%. My outs are the other two nines, and the remaining 6 clubs (2,3,4,5,6,A). Sadly, the river came up blank.
So... was I right or wrong? What would you have done? When would you have gotten away from the hand, or would you?
However, I do other things in life, including weekly poker night at the seminary on Saturday nights. This last Saturday I lost money for, I think, only the second time this year, but it came on an interesting hand. So, for those of you who care about poker (which may be nobody), here is what happened. I'll tell you what I had, and figure out what I did wrong (or right) in this hand.
Blinds are 5 cents/10 cents. I'm the dealer and I have KJ of clubs. There are five players in the hand. The first two to act both fold, so I raise to $0.30. Ken in the small blind and Josh in the big blind both call.
The flop comes 7clubs/8clubs/10hearts. Ken checks, Josh bets $0.30, I raise to $1.00. Ken and Josh both call.
The turn is a 6 of hearts. Ken checks. Josh bets $2.00. OK, now it gets interesting. I have committed $1.30 to the pot, so the pot is $3.90 before Josh's bet. So I have to commit $2.00 to a $5.90 pot. I'm assuming at this point that Josh has a 9, so he made his straight and I am losing, but I can take the pot with a 9 or a club. That leaves me with potentially 12 outs out of 45 unknown cards. That's a little better than 1/4, which is about what I'm getting on my call with implied odds. So, I make the call.
Then things really get interesting.
Ken goes all-in behind me. Now, Ken had about $10 before this hand started, Josh had about $12 and I had $7.30. Josh calls immediately.
Oh dear. So now I have committed $3.30 to the pot and I have $4.00 remaining. The pot I can win is about $18.00. So, basically I am getting 4-18 on my money. In other words, if I'm getting 22% to win I should be making this call.
I ran the numbers. I'm thinking they both have a 9. If they have nothing else of import I can win the hand with one of the two other 9s or the other 8 clubs. So, best case I have 10 outs. 10/44 (plus the two unknown cards from their hands). 10/44 is... 22.7%... brilliant. So I'm right at that boundary. I decided to go for it and make the call. Probably the wrong decision.
Ken shows 9/9, and Josh has 10clubs/Qclubs.
Disaster. Josh has two of my clubs, so I'm only getting 8/42 or 19%. My outs are the other two nines, and the remaining 6 clubs (2,3,4,5,6,A). Sadly, the river came up blank.
So... was I right or wrong? What would you have done? When would you have gotten away from the hand, or would you?
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Minneapolis Open games
My games from the Minneapolis Open
Play online chess
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Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Election coverage from Frank
Let me sum up the elections for those of you who haven't seen a newspaper (or know what a newspaper is). This election we decided that what we need is change, so we voted in the Rebumblicans. This is opposed to the previous election where we wanted change and voted in the Dumbocrats. I continued being a good citizen and throwing away my vote for a party that will never hold office unless it comes in the form of a WWF wrestler who is certifiably crazy, though just as effective in office as anybody else.
Let me hazard a guess as to what will happen in the next election: we will want change and vote D. Then in the next election we'll want change and vote R. I love politics. It's like having the choice between pizza and steak every night. If you have pizza on Monday, then you probably want to have steak on Tuesday, then when Wednesday comes along you think, "Man, I had steak yesterday, better be pizza!" Then Thursday comes with the thought, "It's been two days since I've had steak!" And so on and so on, ad infinitum. Meanwhile, mac and cheese is sitting in the cupboard, feeling ignored.
All of this is ok... as long as you don't have any tea with dinner.
Let me hazard a guess as to what will happen in the next election: we will want change and vote D. Then in the next election we'll want change and vote R. I love politics. It's like having the choice between pizza and steak every night. If you have pizza on Monday, then you probably want to have steak on Tuesday, then when Wednesday comes along you think, "Man, I had steak yesterday, better be pizza!" Then Thursday comes with the thought, "It's been two days since I've had steak!" And so on and so on, ad infinitum. Meanwhile, mac and cheese is sitting in the cupboard, feeling ignored.
All of this is ok... as long as you don't have any tea with dinner.
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Death of Death: A reflection on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death”
(1 Cor. 15:26; Deathly Hallows, Ch. 16)
Warning: Contains spoilers regarding the Harry Potter series.
There’s a pause in the battle of Hogwarts while Voldemort waits in the Forbidden Forest and the survivors of the siege gather together. The reality of a broken world has never been more obvious, characters we have grown to love are dead, and it’s against this backdrop that Harry Potter begins a walk. Invisible under the cloak his father left him, he exits out the shattered front doors and across the grounds, passing through a scene of death and dying. Harry moves inexorably toward Voldemort, accompanied by the ghostly images of those who had gone before—his mother, his father, his godfather, and his teacher. He walks toward death, knowing that the only way to be finally victorious is give up his life. As Dumbledore will soon tell him in the surreal scene at King’s Cross, Harry is the “true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”
I never would have thought when first opening Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone that what would follow seven books later was a profound meditation on death. Against all odds, J.K. Rowling hits at the heart of our mortality without appealing to vague, de-theologized accounts of the afterlife that so pervade popular fiction. She does not diminish death by suggesting it’s all going to be right in the end but instead places it in the context of an ultimate victory. Death is not avoided; it is defeated. This is a story that sets out to show the difference between the one who runs from death—Voldemort (“flees from death” in French)—and Harry, who walks toward death in the knowledge that love wins. He realizes that this world is a broken one in which all manner of tragedy may befall those he loves. Ultimate victory is achieved not in holding on to life but in the death of death.
When we reach the end of the story what should have been evident all along smacks us in the face: the whole Harry Potter adventure has been a theological reflection on death and loss. Never does a character pray, never do we hear about the cross, never does Rowling say the words ‘justification,’ ‘righteousness’ or ‘salvation’ and yet it is all there, wrapped up in the sacrifice Lily Potter made for her son to set the whole journey in motion. On the Potters’ gravestone is that at once melancholy and wonderful phrase from 1 Corinthians: “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” When Harry falls he finds the reality that matters most is not death but resurrection. And lest you think this is not a Christian resurrection consider what it is that saves Harry. His goodness? His worthiness? His knowledge of magic? None of these. It was the sacrifice of those who had gone before, especially his mother’s death for him. Death died with Lily Potter just as death died on the cross.
While Rowling’s story may defy easy allegorization the overtones of the crucifixion are ever-present. Death died in Godric’s Hollow just as in Golgotha, and only because of that can Harry walk toward Voldemort with his head held high, knowing that he faces not an end but just what Dumbledore told him six years earlier—“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
The first installment of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows opens in theaters nationwide on November 19.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Roads We Run
I was struck today while running my usual route around St. Anthony Park that this place has a lot of history for me. With each step I took I remembered running the same route with a friend who is now half a country away and another friend who I haven't spoken to in a very long time. I remembered walking the same road not long ago with people who have influenced my life in all sorts of great ways and people who have left their scars.
This place has a past suddenly that I never expected it to gain. There are memories here that push me forward--good things, bad things, all shades of things. Isn't it amazing that you can be somewhere for so long and never realize that it is a hell of a place? This is a hell of a place. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it seems like a passion drain, but then the memories start to germinate. I can't walk down the road without thinking of friends, struggles, triumphs, grace and pure joy.
Who knew that seminary was so sneakily building me up all along? Who knew that I'd get this far? Incredibly, I get it. I feel at home. Everything is connected: the triumphs and the tragedies. There's no regret, just life. I'm not looking back but pushing forward. The history I've gained demands just that--that I don't make the mistake of thinking that this road won't be a memory worth having. And that's a good enough reason to run it as hard as I can.
Thanks be to God.
This place has a past suddenly that I never expected it to gain. There are memories here that push me forward--good things, bad things, all shades of things. Isn't it amazing that you can be somewhere for so long and never realize that it is a hell of a place? This is a hell of a place. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it seems like a passion drain, but then the memories start to germinate. I can't walk down the road without thinking of friends, struggles, triumphs, grace and pure joy.
Who knew that seminary was so sneakily building me up all along? Who knew that I'd get this far? Incredibly, I get it. I feel at home. Everything is connected: the triumphs and the tragedies. There's no regret, just life. I'm not looking back but pushing forward. The history I've gained demands just that--that I don't make the mistake of thinking that this road won't be a memory worth having. And that's a good enough reason to run it as hard as I can.
Thanks be to God.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Chess Problem #1
From an online game I played yesterday. I was white. There are a couple of good moves, but one completely winning combination that I am happy to say I found :-)
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Fall, Lazarus and the Deathly Hallows
It's about to get cold. I know. None of us want to believe it, but the weather is turning. Things are dying, squirrels are trying to gnaw their way into my room through the window screen. I didn't get to experience this last year in Oregon, so I'm actually kind of enjoying it so far but I guess I'll let ya know come January.
On a quasi-related note, my Harry Potter dork-dom has reached new levels of late. I'm writing a piece for the Concord on Harry Potter, death and dying, and I'm counting down the days (35) until Deathly Hallows. On the one hand I kind of feel like I should tone it down a notch. I mean, I am 24 years old--so maturity should probably kick in any day now--and I am a chess master--so I don't really need to provide any additional reasons for people to give me a wide berth. And yet, I can't feel like there is something so profound about the death and resurrection themes in HP that is just perfect for this season and for this time in history.
Dr. Koester was lecturing yesterday on Lazarus, Jesus' odd behavior and resurrection in John 11. What a powerful lecture! It is the consummate resurrection story with all the themes that cause the hairs on my arm to stand on end. Still, I have to admit I was putting it not just through the lens of our ultimate resurrection but also through the lens of the Deathly Hallows.
Who is the master of death? Not the one who runs from it, but the one who overcomes it because she is not afraid of it. Martha's faith in the face of Lazarus' death is not based on his resurrection; her faith comes first. Meanwhile, when Harry walks into the clearing and faces Voldemort he walks forward knowing that death is coming. And he gives his life willingly. Harry is not a Christ-figure. But... he is a representative of us all--he is deeply human.
We can relate in part because he isn't all that special. He never saves himself. Never. Not once.
In fact, that is Snape and Voldemort's critique of Harry from the beginning--that he is surrounded by others much more gifted than himself; protectors who keep him safe even at the cost of their lives. Ironically, Snape knows so well because he is a part of it. We need those others in our lives who pick us up when we fall.
But here's the meat: we have to fall first.
Jesus could have gone early and saved Lazarus--when he heard Lazarus was sick he waited two days, ensuring it seems that he would die. Death happens. It's coming. This season it is all the more poignant, and yet it is all the more defeated. That is the way of these things. It's OK to look death in the face. In fact, it's the thing that separates us from Voldemort ("flees from death" in French). So as the leaves fall and the sun drops lower and lower in the sky, we can whine about what's coming or walk straight into the winter not afraid of the end of things because our future is certain. Death is coming--whether by Avada Kedavra or snowstorm--and how great it is that things are ending, because resurrection is oh so good.
On a quasi-related note, my Harry Potter dork-dom has reached new levels of late. I'm writing a piece for the Concord on Harry Potter, death and dying, and I'm counting down the days (35) until Deathly Hallows. On the one hand I kind of feel like I should tone it down a notch. I mean, I am 24 years old--so maturity should probably kick in any day now--and I am a chess master--so I don't really need to provide any additional reasons for people to give me a wide berth. And yet, I can't feel like there is something so profound about the death and resurrection themes in HP that is just perfect for this season and for this time in history.
Dr. Koester was lecturing yesterday on Lazarus, Jesus' odd behavior and resurrection in John 11. What a powerful lecture! It is the consummate resurrection story with all the themes that cause the hairs on my arm to stand on end. Still, I have to admit I was putting it not just through the lens of our ultimate resurrection but also through the lens of the Deathly Hallows.
Who is the master of death? Not the one who runs from it, but the one who overcomes it because she is not afraid of it. Martha's faith in the face of Lazarus' death is not based on his resurrection; her faith comes first. Meanwhile, when Harry walks into the clearing and faces Voldemort he walks forward knowing that death is coming. And he gives his life willingly. Harry is not a Christ-figure. But... he is a representative of us all--he is deeply human.
We can relate in part because he isn't all that special. He never saves himself. Never. Not once.
In fact, that is Snape and Voldemort's critique of Harry from the beginning--that he is surrounded by others much more gifted than himself; protectors who keep him safe even at the cost of their lives. Ironically, Snape knows so well because he is a part of it. We need those others in our lives who pick us up when we fall.
But here's the meat: we have to fall first.
Jesus could have gone early and saved Lazarus--when he heard Lazarus was sick he waited two days, ensuring it seems that he would die. Death happens. It's coming. This season it is all the more poignant, and yet it is all the more defeated. That is the way of these things. It's OK to look death in the face. In fact, it's the thing that separates us from Voldemort ("flees from death" in French). So as the leaves fall and the sun drops lower and lower in the sky, we can whine about what's coming or walk straight into the winter not afraid of the end of things because our future is certain. Death is coming--whether by Avada Kedavra or snowstorm--and how great it is that things are ending, because resurrection is oh so good.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
"Destination. Determination. Deliberation."
Today I made a couple of fantastic decisions. One was to put up a Harry Potter quote as my Facebook status every day between now and the release of Deathly Hallows. I'm not even going to attribute them, because to be honest... if you don't know them you won't care anyway. If you ask me I'll tell you who said it and when.
Decision two was going to Afton State Park and hiking around all day. Great time. Good company. Brilliant fall colors (some pictures coming later). It was basically the best way to put off homework ever invented (second is posting on the blog).
Number 3 ties in with number 1. I am going to internalize the above quote. OK, I realize not every HP quote is meaningful, and certainly not everything is deep. But I was pondering the three D's today, like the nerdy seminary student that I am, and I realized that there is something fantastic in there.
1: Destination. We all need a purpose, a larger goal, something we are heading for. If you don't know where you're going then you haven't got a chance to know where you are. This doesn't need to be some detailed, mapped-out, pre-planned course for life, but I think it does need to be in the back of your mind, driving you forward.
2. Determination. I have been smitten recently by certain circumstances beyond my control. It's really easy to embody those things--it's really easy to play into being the victim or the perpetrator. Determination is about rising above that and playing by new rules. It is, in essence, atonement. It doesn't mean that you can't admit a feeling of loss or hurt, but it means something else profound as well: there will be a tomorrow.
3. Deliberation. This is the tricky one (and the one I wanted to ignore). I tend to dwell on things that don't work out. Then, walking amongst the fallen leaves and gorgeous red-yellows of this Minnesota autumn day, it hit me: this is deliberation. It is being with those who are straight with you and with whom you feel comfortable. It is about taking a walk in the park and not just to get somewhere. It is simply living.
Who knew that we might be learning a little bit more than Apparition from Wilkie Twycross?
Decision two was going to Afton State Park and hiking around all day. Great time. Good company. Brilliant fall colors (some pictures coming later). It was basically the best way to put off homework ever invented (second is posting on the blog).
Number 3 ties in with number 1. I am going to internalize the above quote. OK, I realize not every HP quote is meaningful, and certainly not everything is deep. But I was pondering the three D's today, like the nerdy seminary student that I am, and I realized that there is something fantastic in there.
1: Destination. We all need a purpose, a larger goal, something we are heading for. If you don't know where you're going then you haven't got a chance to know where you are. This doesn't need to be some detailed, mapped-out, pre-planned course for life, but I think it does need to be in the back of your mind, driving you forward.
2. Determination. I have been smitten recently by certain circumstances beyond my control. It's really easy to embody those things--it's really easy to play into being the victim or the perpetrator. Determination is about rising above that and playing by new rules. It is, in essence, atonement. It doesn't mean that you can't admit a feeling of loss or hurt, but it means something else profound as well: there will be a tomorrow.
3. Deliberation. This is the tricky one (and the one I wanted to ignore). I tend to dwell on things that don't work out. Then, walking amongst the fallen leaves and gorgeous red-yellows of this Minnesota autumn day, it hit me: this is deliberation. It is being with those who are straight with you and with whom you feel comfortable. It is about taking a walk in the park and not just to get somewhere. It is simply living.
Who knew that we might be learning a little bit more than Apparition from Wilkie Twycross?
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Purpose
I have mentioned several times to people around the seminary that I find coming back from internship a strikingly lonely experience. This seems odd, since I had basically nobody out in Oregon last year. I would play chess with a couple of guys at Wilamette University once a week, and I played some Ultimate Frisbee and went to the gym, but among those groups I don't think I met a single person who I ever "hung out" with outside of the experiences themselves. I had every right to be lonely on internship.
But here's the thing: I wasn't.
This isn't some after-the-fact justification of my emotions; I seriously never felt in need of friendship. Maybe it was only because it was just a year. Maybe it was because I was so busy... but I think not.
I'm only back at seminary for a year; in fact, even less--just through May. Yet, I feel more lonely here on a regular basis than I can remember feeling in quite some time. I'm surrounded by people, many of whom I consider good friends. I have people to talk to, homework to do, Frisbee games to play, chess tournaments to win... to all rights I should be having a blast. And I am some of the time. And other times I can't shake the feeling that something is most definitely off here.
I think it has everything to do with purpose.
I don't know why I'm here. Now, that might sound sort of funny, because if you know me you know that I am pretty comfortable with where I'm going. The point, however, isn't where I'm going but where I am at. I am spontaneous and I live in the moment more than most. I tend to give up long-term plans for the short-term, and there is nothing I like more than making something happen.
At the Seminary, I'm lacking that sense of fulfillment. I find myself asking, "What is my purpose here?" I don't want the answer to be that this is merely a means to an end. I want to know what I am actually doing here. That, I think, is the only cure to the loneliness. Friends are great. Excursions have been a load of fun. Classes are actually surprisingly worthwhile. But without a sense of purpose, this year scares me. So far I'm getting through the ups and downs.
Yet, I can't stop thinking that there's a bigger purpose for me here. And I want to find what it is.
But here's the thing: I wasn't.
This isn't some after-the-fact justification of my emotions; I seriously never felt in need of friendship. Maybe it was only because it was just a year. Maybe it was because I was so busy... but I think not.
I'm only back at seminary for a year; in fact, even less--just through May. Yet, I feel more lonely here on a regular basis than I can remember feeling in quite some time. I'm surrounded by people, many of whom I consider good friends. I have people to talk to, homework to do, Frisbee games to play, chess tournaments to win... to all rights I should be having a blast. And I am some of the time. And other times I can't shake the feeling that something is most definitely off here.
I think it has everything to do with purpose.
I don't know why I'm here. Now, that might sound sort of funny, because if you know me you know that I am pretty comfortable with where I'm going. The point, however, isn't where I'm going but where I am at. I am spontaneous and I live in the moment more than most. I tend to give up long-term plans for the short-term, and there is nothing I like more than making something happen.
At the Seminary, I'm lacking that sense of fulfillment. I find myself asking, "What is my purpose here?" I don't want the answer to be that this is merely a means to an end. I want to know what I am actually doing here. That, I think, is the only cure to the loneliness. Friends are great. Excursions have been a load of fun. Classes are actually surprisingly worthwhile. But without a sense of purpose, this year scares me. So far I'm getting through the ups and downs.
Yet, I can't stop thinking that there's a bigger purpose for me here. And I want to find what it is.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Concord: What in God's Name is "Christian Music"?
It happened in a conversation that I semi-intruded upon, as I am wont to do late at night in Bockman Hall (the reader beware lest your next remarks grace these pages): A fellow seminary student and camp friend bemoaned the lack of good Christian bands. He was feeling nostalgic for the days of Audio Adrenaline, the Newsboys, and other equally trendy groups of the early 2000s. It is so hard to find good Christian music these days, he whined. OK, whined might be too harsh of a word, we’ll go with ‘cried.’
I’m being a tad facetious I think, but I have to wonder what makes a particular group a “Christian band” in the first place, and what in God’s name is this thing called “Christian music”? It’s not as obvious as it sounds; at least I think it’s worth five hundred words or so. WE might devise some simple criteria: Do the lyrics mention Jesus? If yes, then it’s Christian. Or: Do the bands play at churches and Christian music festivals? If yes, then they’re Christian.
Fair enough, but a level deeper it gets messy. There are some artists whose lyrics evolve over time, and there are others who never mention a word about God but whose spirituality is oozing out of every turn of phrase. When does a band become a Christian band: is it on the date of conversion from their heathen past, the first time they get played on Air1? Is it when they first mention Jesus in an album, or something else?
Music is an expression of poetry that reflects the yearning of its poets. Generally this means that artists are going to lyricize those things that truly matter in their lives: God, love, family, getting down and dirty in the club. OK, perhaps not all lyrics are deep. Still, I think we need to be careful stamping music with the Christian insignia not primarily for who gets into the Christian music club but for who is left out. The rapper variously known as Puff Daddy, P Diddy or just Diddy has performed all sorts of meaningless dribble over the years, but he has also had some moments that strike me as bordering on profound in a way that many intentionally Christian artists do not. Take the song “By Faith” recorded for Katrina relief in which Diddy raps:
Forgive my sins, I have the fame
But, for you, I'll trade it all in
It's not about dough, 'cause when you call me
I can't take that when I go
When my vision's blurred, you make it clear
When I need to listen, you make me hear
I permeate all hate
Bless you for blessing me
You got my faith
Let’s not ignore the Gospel because of the package in which it’s delivered. When we get stuck on categorizing artists we miss the power in those things that don’t fit into our boxes. If you think the only music that is worshipful is found on the local Christian radio station or in your favorite hymnal allow me to widen your world. Your favorite music, whatever it may be, can bring you into the presence of the divine. Not all of us resonate with the same melodies or beats, but we all resonate with something. Find your resonance, and don’t let anyone tell you that it isn’t “Christian” music. Christ can speak to you through whatever means he chooses, whether Amy Grant or 50 Cent.
Monday, October 4, 2010
New Blog
OK, I'm back at the seminary and well, everybody else is doing it, so I feel the need to create myself "ye olde new blog." Not sure how this is going to look, but there will be some chess-related posts, some church-related posts, some Concord-related posts/articles, probably some posts that have nothing to do with anything, and whatever else I choose to do with this. So, basically the norm. I have a Concord article coming in the next few days, I'll get that up and go from there. Until then, peace!
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