Month: March 2008

  • Something the Lord Made

    Something the Lord Made, the story of two pioneers of open heart surgery, was an excellent film.  When Dr. Alan Blaylock (Alan Rickman) hired Vivien Thomas (Mos Def) to be his lab assistant he never anticipated the pivotal role Thomas would play in his medical research.  When Dr. Blaylock inspects a shunt and bypass performed by Thomas,  he exclaims, “this looks like something the Lord made.”

    The drama of overcoming hurdles and performing the first heart surgery on a “blue baby”  kept my interest from flagging; however, the personal dilemma of Vivien Thomas and his response was riveting.  He had been given unprecedented  freedom as a black man who was a brilliant but uneducated assistant, unofficially an apprentice surgeon.  However, he was grossly underpaid and received no recognition for his medical breakthroughs.   Watching his struggle to humbly stand up for his rights and provide for his family and seeing the honor ultimately given to him by Johns Hopkins University was the thrill of this movie.

    Heart surgery is so common today that we take it for granted.  My good friend Sue is getting a mitral valve repair, a five hour heart surgery, this afternoon at Stanford.   The surgeon who slices open and remodels her heart is the descendant, medically speaking, of Dr. Blaylock and (hon.) Dr. Thomas.  Highly recommended.

  • Talking about Work on St. Paddy’s Day


    Ireland’s flag flies from the fence of my next door neighbor.
    I think this (partially) atones for the plastic inflatable
    Grinch last December, don’t you (wink, wink)?

    [regarding the construction Columcille's House (Columcille = Columba) in the town of Kells, Ireland, built 11th century.  This is where the Book of Kells originated.]


    “They didn’t have time to do poor work.”  He was talking about the modern inversion of production standards – the prevalent assumption that we haven’t time, or can’t afford, to work well. But, of course, nobody ever has time or can ever afford to do poor work; that poor work is affordable is an illusion created by the industrial economy.  If bad work is done, a high price must be paid for it; all “the economy” can do is forward the bill to a later generation — and, in the process, make it payable in suffering.


    But the real genius of a country, though it may indeed fructify in great individual geniuses, is in the fine abilities – in the minds, eyes, and hands – of tens of thousands of ordinary workers.  Peter called this “the genius of genus.” Columcille’s House was not, like a monument of modern architecture, the work only of one individual genius but grew out of many miles of stone walls around little fields and out of many cottages.


    Thus, coming to Ireland has reminded me again how long, complex, and deep must be the origins of the best work of any kind.

                      

       ~ Wendell Berry, Irish Journal essay, included in Home Economics (emphases mine)

    * * * * *

    And not seldom, after the manner of the apostle Paul, he toiled with manual labor, fishing and tilling the ground; but chiefly in building churches, to the which employment he much urged his disciples, both by exhortation and example.

    ~ The Life and Acts of Saint Patrick by Jocelin – found in the post The Toiling and Tilling of St. Patrick, by PoiemaPortfolio, a blog I highly value reading.  Thanks, Poiema!

    * * * * *

    If you have never read through (or sung!) St. Patrick’s Breastplate, also called by its Latin name, Lorica, you have missed a mighty anthem.  On those mornings when despair wants to claim victory, when bleak doesn’t begin to describe your outlook – on those mornings, these are words to strengthen and cheer you. 

    Happy St. Patrick’s Day!  Put on The Chieftains,  boil some cabbage, cook up some corned beef, dance a jig, say a prayer of thanks for the gift of this man to our world, and do good work today.

  • Nicholas Nickleby Redux

    Happiness is a gift and the trick is not to expect it,
    but to delight in it when it comes.

    We watched Nicholas Nickleby this week and I had forgotten what a great movie it really is.  Full of trademark Dickensian characters, suffering, pathos, humor, justice, romance, cruelty, compassion, a lecherous old man and a indignant older brother who defends his sister’s reputation, family love and fabulous quotes, it is a movie that bears an annual re-viewing. 

    My husband remarked that the movie begins at the grave of a broken Nicholas Nickleby, the family in grief and distress; it ends at the same grave with a new, redeemed Nicholas Nickleby who has restored and extended the family.  Redemption always comes with two things: evil is judged and put down, and righteousness is lifted up.  We all rejoice when good triumphs over evil. 

    Whose heart can remain unmoved at these words between Nicholas and the young orphan Smike?

    Where is your [Smike's] home?

    You are my home.

    I transcribed the final toast, the glorious recap of the movie:

    In every life, no matter how full or empty one’s purse, there is tragedy.  It is the one promise life always fulfills.  Thus, happiness is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it but to delight in it when it comes; and to add to other people’s store of it.

    What happens if, too early, we lose a parent, that party on whom we rely for only…everything?  What did these people do when their families shrank? 

    They cried their tears. 

    But then they did the vital thing: they built a new family person by person.  They came to see that family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood, but as those for whom they would give their blood.

    I am a fan of Rachel Portman’s soundtracks.  When I first heard the music, I requested (and received!) this.  If you haven’t seen this movie, you need to watch it.  If it’s been a while since you have, check it out again.  You’ll be glad.

  • Feasting 101


    feasting on worship

    feasting on conversation

    feasting on family

    feasting on generations

    feasting on words


    feasting on the success of older son – giving us a tour

    feasting on the sight of soon-to-be-graduated son and his lovely wife

    feasting on focaccia

    feasting on fish – steelhead provided by our son


    feasting on fresh vegetables – roasted in the oven
    (butternut squash, red onion, red potatoes, asparagus, garlic)
    all pictures, save one, by brother Dan

  • Plymouth Brethren

    What do
    the missionary Jim Elliot,
    the evangelist Luis Palau,
    the author Ken Follett,
    the poet Luci Shaw,
    the entertainer Garrison Keillor,
    the Sojourners activist Jim Wallis,
    Moody Radio Pastor Don Cole
    and I
    have in common? 

    We were all raised in Plymouth Brethren assemblies. 

    My grandpa was Jim Elliot’s Bible Study leader at Wheaton; Jim Wallis’ father was my camp director for all the summers of my youth; Don Cole will always have a warm dwelling in my heart.  His wife Naomi was the first woman to hug me after my mom’s death. My grandpa was an old-time traveling preacher who started dozens of Plymouth Brethren assemblies across America.  My father taught at the assembly Bible College (Emmaus), managed a Bible Camp in the summer, and preached at chapels and conferences.  My brother David is a full time worker at an assembly in Pennsylvania and preaches across the east.  He was even invited to Scotland to preach!  My roots run deep in the Plymouth Brethren.

    These are my memories of growing up Plymouth Brethren 30-50 years ago.  Change is a constant; a visit to a PB assembly today will certainly be different.

    The Plymouth Brethren are very scholarly.  Their influence on evangelical culture is inescapable. They believe in New Testament principles of the church: a plurality of elders, no clergy/laity (no paid pastor, no membership),  no denominational structure, and women wear head coverings (not every woman does anymore).

    The assembly was the center of our family’s culture.  We attended Breaking of Bread and Family Bible Hour on Sunday morning, Gospel Service Sunday night, Prayer Meeting Wednesday night, Awana Thursday night, and Young Peoples on Friday.

    The weekly Breaking of Bread service went like this:  Women wore head coverings.  When I was an infant wearing hats was in vogue (think Jackie Kennedy); as I grew older we kept a lace mantilla (black, white, navy or ecru) in the pocket of our Bible holder and bobby pinned that to our hair. Loaners were in the back for visitors.

    After we took our place in the pew there was silence.  A man, led by the Spirit, would stand and give out an exhortation, or devotional, or just read some Scripture.  Moments of silence seasoned the time.  When a man called out a hymn, the designated hymn-starter would sing the first phrase and we sang the hymn a capella. Towards the end of the service we would pass a broken loaf of bread (never crackers) and one large silver goblet, a common cup from which we sipped.
     
    Family Bible Hour was similar to a typical evangelical church service.  Hymns (picked out two minutes before the service, scribbled on a torn paper from the bulletin and given to musicians), announcements and a sermon. There was never an offering passed.  With no “pastor” we relied on visiting preachers or preaching from men in our assembly.  What this meant is that each sermon stood alone and wasn’t connected to the sermon before or after. We heard many different styles of delivery, exegesis and application.  

    Careful in particulars, Plymouth Brethren strive to maintain their theological distinctives in their speech.  This lends itself to a jargon, with acceptable and forbidden discouraged terminology. 

    Movement         instead of              Denomination
    Assembly / Chapel                         Church
    Elder or Full Time Worker              Pastor
    Meeting                                        Service
    Fellowship                                     Membership

              Breaking of Bread                          Communion

    PBs (we say Peebs as short-hand) stress the different dispensations of history, believer baptism, strong world mission emphasis, serious Bible study, simplicity in worship, and pre-trib rapture.  When my grandfather started tent meetings in a new city he usually began with a Bible study on end times in Revelation.  When it wasn’t Revelation, it was Daniel.

    Weak points:
    I got the idea that we were the only true Christians.  I was reprimanded at camp for telling a girl who went to a Free Methodist church that Methodists weren’t Christians.  Blech.  Forgive me, girl whose name I can’t remember. I’d say we were ingrown.

    Separation from the world was stressed to the point that we often lived within a Christian ghetto (except for  support of government education). It was easy to measure holiness by pharisaical standards: we didn’t drink, smoke, cuss.  With the rapture about to occur any day, we didn’t worry about engaging or improving our culture. 

    Knowledge, by itself, is dangerous.  It often bred nitpicky, arrogant attitudes. Being right often trumped other Christian virtues such as love, graciousness, forbearance, sacrifice.  I know that I took pleasure in being smart (or fast at looking up Bible verses) and failed to exhibit wisdom by living out what I knew.

    There was an element of patriarchal authority that was disrespectful of women.  There is good patriarchy and bonehead patriarchy; I have seen both exhibited in the Brethren.

    Gratitude:

    I will always be grateful for my upbringing:  for the high view of God, the high view of Scripture, for Jesus Loves Me, for weekly communion, for learning to meditate in silence, for a capella hymns, for regular visits from missionaries, for a heritage of men and women who invested themselves in the care and maintenance of souls.

  • Samuel Rutherford, Master of Metaphor



    When I am in the cellar of affliction,
    I look for the Lord’s choicest wines.
    ~ Samuel Rutherford

    The popular quote above isn’t found in this edition of Letters of Samuel Rutherford, but it illustrates Rutherford’s masterful use of metaphor.  This collection of 69 letters is a treasure-trove of wisdom and pastoral care.  Tender with the weak, bracing with the proud, honest about his own struggles, this man is remarkable.  (All emphases mine)

    What does he say to a mother who has lost a child? 

    ~ Courage up your heart; when you tire, he will bear both you and your burden.


    What does he write to a man in prison a week before he is to be hanged? 

    ~  Be not terrified; fret not…Cast the burden of wife and children on the Lord Christ; he careth for you and them.  Your blood is precious in his sight. 

    How did he express his own distress of soul?
    ~  I did not dream of such shortness of breath, and fainting in the way toward our country…this is the thickest darkness…Dear brother, help me, and get me the help of their prayers who are with you.

    How did he encourage a woman going through various trials?

    ~  Believe his love more than your feeling, for this world can take nothing from you that is truly yours, and death can do you no wrong.  Your rock doth not ebb and flow, but your sea.

    See how he writes very frankly to a proud laird of a castle:

    ~  Dear Sir, I always saw nature mighty, lofty, heady and strong in you; and that it was more for you to be mortified and dead to the world than for another common man. You will take a low ebb, and a deep cut, and a long lance, to go to the bottom of your wounds in saving humiliation, to make you a won prey for Christ.  Be humbled; walk softly. Down, down, for God’s sake, my dear and worthy brother, with your topsail.  Stoop, stoop! it is a low entry to go in at heaven’s gate.

    He models godliness for his parishioners:

    ~  I have learned some greater mortification, and not to mourn after or seek to suck the world’s dry breasts.

    Two things helped me as I read through the letters.  Rutherford was born around 1600; that made it easy to ascertain his age by noting the date of the letter.  In the back there are brief notes about the recipients of Rutherford’s letters.  It’s worth it to flip back and learn more about the correspondent before reading the letter.

    In short, this is a book worth reading, worth buying, worth giving, worth re-reading.  If you want a sample of letters, check here.

  • Family By Extension

    One of the bejeweled
    moments of my son’s wedding: standing arm-in-arm with Debbie, Taryn’s mom,
    watching our son and daughter dance their first dance as man and wife.  Eyes shining, Debbie leaned over and said, “You
    know what this means, don’t you?  We’re
    family now.”  I wish there was a less
    clunky way to describe our relationship than “my daughter-in-law’s mom” or “my
    son’s mother-in-law”.  She is family by
    extension. 

    Family by extension works
    in many wonderful directions. 

    My bro and SIL,
    Dan and Val, are bringing a dear friend with them for their annual Oregon migration this
    Saturday.  Rachel, a sprightly senior
    citizen, and Dan and Val are family to each other, celebrating birthdays, showing
    mutual care.  So, by extension, Rachel is
    our family too.  We are delighted for the opportunity to know Rachel and
    to be known by her. 

    My Aunt Betty, who lives in South Africa, has informally
    adopted a son, Jean-Blaise.  They care
    deeply for each other; she calls him Son
    and he calls her Mother.  Aunt Betty
    emailed me pictures, which I forwarded to my siblings with the subject line, We have a Congolese cousin.    

    There are copious examples of families who have claimed a person or group as their
    own.  I’m sure you have people who are
    family to you.  We often give the title
    Uncle and Aunt to people who share love, if not blood, with us or with our
    children. 

    The root of the word extend is
    the Latin word tendere, to stretch. A pregnant woman is a living demonstration of the stretching
    that takes place to make room for a new member of the family.      It is not difficult to open the family circle
    and re-link hands in an expanded circle. 
    We did it every day we played dodge ball on the playgrounds of our
    youth.  Other cultures excel at family by
    extension; if we were wise, we would learn from them. 

    God sets the solitary in families.   Psalm 68:6

    He makes His families like a flock. Psalm 107:41

          

    Those friends thou hast, and their
    adoption tried,
    Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of
    steel.

                Hamlet, William Shakespeare

     

    Treat your friends like family
    and your family like friends.

    Cotton Mather

  • Random Notes

    ~ A pressing headache, gurgling cough and Grand Canyon sneezes have smothered me and slammed me against the wall.  I’m lying low, praying, pleading, begging, imploring God for a speedy recovery.  People, dear people, are coming soon.  I’m drinking weak lemon zinger tea.

    ~ I’m on the edge of being too sick to read, which is the most wretched of sickly conditions.  I finished listening  to Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth and I’m disappointed.  Disappointed with the book (too much steamy sex and the writing is not up to snuff) and disappointed with myself for wading through it (I kept thinking it would get better when they started to build the cathedral).  If I were you, I’d skip it.

    ~ As detox, I downloaded Elizabeth Gaskell’s Wives and Daughters from Librivox and listened to it.  Lovely!  If you enjoy Jane Austen, give Mrs. Gaskell a try.  I think you’ll enjoy her character sketches.   This is a book to hold, underline, mark up.  Molly Gibson is a heroine to remember.  Now I can watch the DVD.

    ~ We had three year old Gavin (our grandson) for the weekend.  What exuberance and imagination.  Joy, joy, joy.

    ~ I’ve written a post on growing up in the Plymouth Brethren.  Like dough, it needs to rest a bit. 

    ~ New author find!!  Leslie Thomas in Some Lovely Islands writes the best anthropomorphic prose I’ve ever read.  Period.  Islands have shoulders, chins, elbows, fingers, noses, toenails. The wind raises itself up on one elbow to blow a puff or two across the land; a house is hunched against the wind;  an abandoned cottage is embroidered in cobwebs; the sea and sky described as partners one doing the acrobatics, the other  impassive, facing the audience, arms folded.  Like the best new authors, he has introduced me to more authors to explore: the Great Blasket Poets and writers.

    ~  A new word: cerulean!  The color of the sky last week.  Thank you Sandy!  I have to use it four times to remember it.  Unfortunately the sky today could be called Gray Underwear.  I like Cerulean and Azure