Those who pay close attention to labels may have noticed the tag “Neo-Luddism” appended to some of my blog posts.Luddites were nineteenth-century protestors against machines because, their thinking went, machines denied people jobs.I’m not fully in line with this way of thinking, of course, but I do occasionally point out the ironies of how our technological life has become, well, life.Tech seems to have taken over life itself and some people really like that.Others of us miss the outdoors and even the “free time” we used to have indoors.Our computers, phones, iPads, left behind and maybe a physical book cracked open—this seems a dream at times.I really do enjoy our connected life, for the most part.It makes this blog possible, for instance.What I object to is being forced to upgrade.That should be a decision I make, not one thrust upon me.
Which cloud is it?
This is just one small instance of what I’m talking about: my laptop wants an update.It has for a couple of months now.Since it’s in rather constant use I can only devote the time to it on the weekends and the past four weekends have all been used up with other things, including two that had over eight hours of Zoom meetings scheduled.Now, you see, the update isn’t just a matter of simply updating.You need to clear space off your computer first.I like to keep my files and the tech companies want to pressure me into keeping them on “the cloud” so they can charge me for the privilege of accessing the things I created.Instead I back them up on terabyte drives, sorting as I go.Photos, formerly iPhotos, take seven or eight clicks to upload and delete for each and every set.If you snap a lot of pix that translates to hours of time.It also means when I want to access my files I have to remember where I put the terabyte drive, and then connect it to the computer.At least I know where my files are.
But do I?If I were to crack open the drive would I have any means of locating what, on my laptop, looks like memories of family, friends, and places I’ve been?Are they real at all?If you’re sympathetic to this existential crisis created by the tech world in which we live, you might understand, in some measure Neo-Luddism.Of course memory is available for purchase and it will surely last you at least until the next upgrade.
It is true that I have a fondness for nineteenth-century British novels.Even though they often lack a strong speculative element they tend to be gothic, at least if written by one of the Brontë sisters.I’d only ever read one of George Eliot’s novels before, and that was in ninth grade.Middlemarch has been on my list for many years, but due to its intimidating size I’ve kept putting it off.Now that I’ve read it I feel like I’ve accomplished something.I had no idea what the story was about in advance, and no idea how it ended.Unlike many pieces of literature of its time it hasn’t made a huge impact in pop culture, so this was the opportunity to lose myself for a few months in a world completely unknown.
I’m not foolhardy enough to try to summarize an 800-page novel here, but one aspect that the reader can’t help but notice is the prominence of clergy.And not only prominence, but prestige.In a world built around the solid belief in different classes of individuals, where pride takes a place in marriages that are supposed to be within class, the clergy are minor nobility.Since this is the Church of England the vicars can marry and indeed, one such marriage sets off the tension that lasts throughout the hundreds of pages to come.The clergy of the time were often gentleman scholars—the role that was envisioned for Charles Darwin as a young man.Eliot plays on that idea with some of her preachers being amateur scientists.
The conflict—that now feels inherent—between science and religion has less to do with older forms of Christianity than it has to do with evangelicalism.A relatively new expression of Christianity, evangelicalism set itself against modernity and its science.Quite often today when commentators rail against “religion” it is really evangelicalism that they have in mind.In the world Eliot sketches, she sees no difficulties between a rational view of things and an ecclesiastical one.Clergy are often seen at the whist tables and taking long walks down country lanes.The distinction between them and the average citizen is that they have been to university to study.Today, in mainstream Christianity anyway, clergy are educated at least to the master’s level.They’re no longer among the minor nobility, however.Middlemarch has more than a hint of nostalgia to it, and the clergy roles show that clearly.
The word “listserv” feels abrupt to me, as if someone couldn’t be bothered to type one more “e” to give the reader a sense of satisfied completion.Technology terms are often like that—not really descriptive of what they are and leaving us older folks wondering about the words and not quite comprehending what they’re supposed to signify.Back in the early 1990s I joined a listserv that eventually came to be known as “Agade,” since it carried news of the Ancient Near Eastern variety.Since I seldom have the opportunity to work in that field any longer, I long ago ceased to be on the Agade listserv and consequently have lost track of what’s happening in real time.Or at least close to it.An author with whom I was working recently asked me to post about his book on Agade so I had to resubscribe.It’s nice to see the listserv, whatever that is, still alive and kicking.
One of the articles posted recently had the intriguing title “Burnt remains from 586 BCE Jerusalem may hold key to protecting planet.”I’m not sure, beyond evangelicals chomping for Armageddon, who doesn’t want to protect the planet, so I read on.Archaeologists, I know, sometimes feel put upon to defend their work.Yes, it’s sexy and cool, but it’s also expensive and not as well funded as it needs to be.It does occasionally lead to real scientific breakthroughs.This particular story is about Earth’s magnetic field.It is vital for life as we know it, and we know that it is constantly shifting.In fact, some pundits are fearing a flip in magnetic poles which, for a guy who can’t even understand listserv, sounds really catastrophic.The article, however, is about the fact that the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem by fire that led to a trapped picture of the magnetic field at the time, and we know the date.Magnetic materials under high heat preserve indicators of the Earth’s magnetic field, whether it had been discovered or not.
Image credit: NASA/ISS Expedition 28, public domain from Wikimedia Commons
The book of Genesis says nothing about the creation of the magnetic field that makes life on our planet possible.Knowing that we understand so little about something that makes our existence possible, I suspect, indicates that there are many factors of life we haven’t even begun to comprehend.There are further discoveries to be made.We’re not even sure if our definition of “life” is entirely accurate.One thing our history has taught us, however, is that if we build great structures there will be those eager to burn them.As we sift through the rubble we might discover something about the direction in which we’re going.And a listserv will be there to share the news.
Perhaps you’ve notice it too.The technology blame-game, I mean.Although it’s grown more acute since the pandemic, it has been around for as long as the tech disparity has existed.A typical scenario goes like this: someone (often of a more senior generation) encounters a techical problem communicating with someone else (often of a more recent generation) and asks them what the problem is with their (the younger person’s technology).I sent you the message, the narrative goes, there must be something wrong with your tech if you didn’t receive it.Believe me, I understand how bewildering this can be.We’ve sold seniors (one of which I am rapidly becoming) on the idea that this little device in your hand can do anything.When it doesn’t work, it must be somebody else’s fault.The young, however, often have the latest tech and fastest speeds and broadest bandwidth, so the problem is probably on the sending end.
I run into this quite a bit since I run a small program for some local folks that involves weekly Zoom meetings.I’m no Zoom maven.My wife trained me in it and I can do passably well at running a meeting.Many of those older than me, however, often have problems.They wonder what is wrong with my broadcasting rather than their receiving.I’m not sure how to say ever so gently that we pay (through the nose) for high-speed connectivity.We have to since I work from home as a matter of course.Now my wife also works from home and the two of us use our bandwidth all day long with multiple simultaneous meetings without any issues.The tech here seems good.We have no way of checking the tech on the end of those who are having connectivity issues.
I’m not setting myself up as any kind of tech prophet.If you read my blog you know that I am deeply ambivalent about this whole thing.I’ve been thinking a lot about overpromising recently and I wonder if that’s not a major part of the problem.Technology will not solve all of our problems.The fact that you need a regular source of electricity for it to run shows its inherent weakness.It is a tool like any other, and if the tool is bladed to be useful it must have a dull part onto which one might hold.Our Zoom society is bound to have issues.Once we can see each other face-to-face again, all we’ll have to worry about is whether the laptop will communicate with the projector, or if the microphone is on the fritz this morning.So it always has been.
Strange things happen.I doubt anyone would deny that, even the most skeptical.Sometimes the strange has an edge to it, though.A recent story on WTVR reports that residents of Virginia are receiving packets of unidentified seeds from China.Perhaps a nation naive enough to elect 45 believes in magic beans?If I recall correctly the beanstalk incident didn’t really end well, although Jack may have survived when it was all over.WTVR is compelled to say what should be obvious: if you receive unexpected seeds in the mail, don’t plant them.Not so many years ago I would’ve supposed most Americans were smart enough to know that.Four years later I’m left wondering.America’s critical thinking levels appear to be at an all-time low.
Upon first seeing this story my immediate reaction was to question it.Was it a hoax or a scam?The kind of thing Trump Enterprises might do to drive business?If it did happen haven’t scientists (if there are any anymore) been able to figure out what kinds of seeds these are?Isn’t there an app for that?Increasingly, it seems, people rely on Facebook rumors for their fact checking.Of course, that’s the beauty of this kind of plot, if it indeed is one.A simple thing such as sending a packet of seeds can start a panic.And with a Gross Domestic Product like China’s I’m sure the postage isn’t even all that expensive.
I also wonder if this isn’t in return for something that the US has done.We currently have no foreign policy to speak of, but I wonder if people in China have been receiving tariff-free shipments from us.But do we even have a functioning Post Office anymore?What if the seeds are from the US and were made to look as though they came from China?My suspicion goes deep, I guess.Several years ago I got dressed down at an academic conference for being too skeptical.My notebook has nullius in verba written inside the front cover.I tend to think that I just like to ask questions.Nobody sends you anything for free—being raised in capitalist heaven taught me that.WTVR says these seeds may be invasive species.Waging a continuing war against trees of heaven (also an invasive species) I know how much time can be wasted on the task.Just when you think you’ve got them all, another one pops up.Strange things indeed.
It happened this way.When my daughter was young she was interested in dinosaurs.Most kids are.In fact, my wife and I went to a public lecture by a paleontologist in Edinburgh where he pointed out that the real experts on the subject in the audience were generally twelve or younger.I took an interest in what my daughter found fascinating, and you can’t study dinosaurs without knowing a bit of geology.Now, the professor’s lifestyle is a thing of wonder.You may have a heavy teaching and publication load, but the freedom to spend your unstructured summer time pure learning was (still is) a huge draw.I began studying geology.I joined the Wisconsin Geological Society.I was even made an officer.My, a biblical studies professor.
At one point I bought a jeweler’s loupe.Many geologists have them.To get down to the level of the crystalline structure of most rocks you’ll need something more powerful, but for fieldwork (and I’ve got a garage full of rocks to prove it) your average loupe will do.When Nashotah House decided I should no longer be a professor (and the rest of academe acquiesced) I seriously considered going back to school to study geology.Time was against me, however.I had to find a job with a family needing support, and so here I am in publishing instead.And not only that, but I’m a Bibles editor.Most people have no idea what that means.Some days even I don’t.But one thing I have learned is that you’ve got to know your leather.
This is a bit uncomfortable to me as a vegan, but I have learned that many people want their Bibles wrapped up in animal sacrifice.I’ve also learned there are many different kinds of leather.The typical leather Bible is pigskin.Yes, that’s right.In the trade you can call a Bible with any animal hide leather.Bonded leather means that it’s pieces glued together.The most expensive Good Books are “genuine leather.”Cut from whole cloth, as it were.I keep my jeweler’s loupe in my work desk.Sometimes I need to look at something closely, off screen.My loupe came in a leather case.One of the sides peeled off during our move and I could see clearly what bonded leather means.In fact, the “nded” part of “bonded” is clearly visible like a secret Bible code on the underlayer of my case.Nothing, it seems, is ever wasted.
It is utterly remarkable that in this year of the Common Era 2020 that even in Unicode you can’t write Hebrew in Microsoft Word without gymnastics.The task at work was a fairly simple one: proofread the Hebrew in a typeset manuscript ready for the printer.This means the manuscript is a PDF at this point and to get Hebrew to appear in a comment bubble you need to copy it from Word and paste it in.But wait!Word only has some Hebrew letters in its Symbols menu.Try getting a yod to appear.I looked up a Unicode chart, copied and pasted the Unicode unique identifier and Word gave me a capital P.Not a jot or tittle to be found.So, to get the yod I had to fetch my personal Mac and use the language menu and type the word out.Copy.Paste in an email from my personal account to my work account.Wait.Open work email message.Copy again.Paste again.
Using this method, a task that would take me maybe twenty minutes stretched into hours.There was simply no way to get Microsoft Word to display a full Hebrew alphabet shy of changing the language on the computer.And since I don’t read Modern Hebrew I had a feeling that would lead to disaster.Part of the problem is that programmers thought it would be smart to make Unicode Hebrew automatically appear right to left.This has been the bane of many of us since the earliest word processors tried to replicate the language.We grew used to typing it in backwards.Now you never know which letter is going to disappear if you hit delete—it doesn’t help that it can act differently on a Mac than on your standard business-issue PC.Not only that, but when you paste it the receiving document often automatically reverses word order.Can I get a pen and paper over here?
I sometimes jokingly lament the hold that technology has on us.In some instances the joking takes on a serious tone, I know.I do wonder about having techies drive where we’re going.It’s one thing to make it possible to print Hebrew letters in electronic form, but it is quite another to read them and have a sense of what they’re saying.And those of us challenged by the whole right-left orientation and a cursor blinking on one side of a word but having its effect on the other wonder if it’s worth the effort.There’s a reason ancient people wrote in clay, it seems.
Quantum mechanics shows deep connections based on empirical evidence.This is Einstein’s famous “spooky action at a distance.”Particles that split apart from one another seem to be in communication as they track on trajectories away from one another at incredible speeds.It’s almost as if there’s will involved.Maybe there is.If intention is part of the natural world, we’re in trouble.Well, at least stark materialism is.You can’t measure will.We all know what it is because we feel it.Try to define it.Isn’t will a matter of what you want?What could a particle possibly want?If it’s small it can’t hurt us, right?But once it crosses a certain level, it no longer works.Science trembles at quantum mechanics being applied at the non-microscopic level.
Ironically science is wedded to an idea proposed by a medieval cleric.Early scientists were often clergy—an association most scientists would prefer to forget these days.William of Ockham (fourteenth century) proposed an idea that became the surefooted stance of science in its toddler phase.Simply reduced it goes like this: the single natural explanation, without relying on outside forces, is probably the best.It’s known as Ockham’s Razor (aka Occam’s Razor). Yet Ockham was a Franciscan Friar, a cleric.His thinking and reasoning were necessarily informed by ecclesiastical thought.Or, not to put too fine a point on it, theology.His razor avoided entanglements.Ironically, science refers to this quantum connection as entanglement.
Humans, it seems, have a tendency toward contrariness.We’re oppositional.When we’re told that quantum mechanics applies only to the very small, we wonder if maybe the same principles don’t work “up here” at our scale.It’s hard to conceive that even our scale is simply a matter of perspective.Since we’re uncomfortable with the idea we suggest that only our species is conscious.That way we can keep the will out of animals as well as subatomic particles, let alone larger scale entities such as planets, galaxies, and universes.Maybe entanglement suggests Ockham’s Razor is dull.Before getting out the philosophical strop, perhaps we should ask if the simplest explanation is really the best after all.Maybe the best answer is far more complex than we’d like to admit.I love science.I still, when I have time, read science books written for the laity.It’s just that science, like religion, is part of a larger picture.As much as we fear entanglement, it is an empirically observed part of life in our universe.
So I’m looking for a photo.An electronic one, of course.And since my camera, or phone, or whatever it is, automatically names them for the benefits of machines, I don’t know what it’s called.When I want to search for it I have to scroll and scan through hundreds of images.It’s the price we pay for letting technology run things.Okay, so it’s made life easier; I’m down with that.Still, I would like to know where my info is.I learned to find files by navigating to them, something computers taught me how to do.But computers move things around while we sleep.
Now that Covid-19 has moved in to stay, we all use meeting software to stay in touch.Most of us use Zoom so businesses naturally prefer Microsoft Teams.I don’t know the details of Teams so I watch a video tutorial.The Microsoft official (well-paid enough to dress casual) is explaining that you can attach things in Teams, something that we’ve all had to learn how to do in email school.He says that those sharing in your chat don’t know where the actual document is.“Who needs to know?” (I’m paraphrasing here), he says.“Nobody needs to know where it is.”This is my fear—my personal files need to be where I can find them, not on some sleepy server halfway around the world.Just the other day the internet went out here.Just for a little while, but those were panicked minutes nonetheless.I don’t want my files bumping around in a cloud when I need to know how to navigate to them.What if the server goes down right when I need them? I don’t trust clouds.Zeus raped Io in the form of a cloud, remember.
Bordone, Zeus and Io; a picture I did find!
I’d feel better about all this if those of us pen-and-paper types were involved in the discussion.Nothing says “ephemera” like documents made of electrons.Maybe I need to spend more time with religions of east Asia where the idea of lack of permanence is key.Knowing where to find important things, however, has been a hallmark of Euro-American thought.And if your very own personal documents are being kept where you don’t even need to know where, how can you sleep at night?Some of us are kept awake still wondering where that thing we can find since we’ve moved might be.I get the spooky feeling that technology is training us.For what nobody can guess.As for me, I’ll get in line once I find that photo that I didn’t even name.
My computer’s been telling me that it wants to upgrade.In fact, when I first bought this laptop several years ago, and started it up the first time right out of the box, a message popped up that a system update was available.The tech business, you see, never really sells you a computer.They’re working on it constantly, often at the same time I’m trying to use it.In any case, the reason I haven’t upgraded has been that I need to clear off space on my hard drive.Each upgrade requires more and more of the limited space I have, so my work has to be shoved off onto external drives that I stack like bricks in my attic.And that takes time.
This wasn’t a problem with my pre-internet computers.You bought them to do PowerPoint for work and word processing for publications.Said publications were printed out and sent via mail to publishers.Just typing that makes me feel old.The fact was, however, you could get by on those computers without any upgrades at all.The system that came with it was sufficient for the life of the machine.Once you get connected to the internet, though, you have to keep up.I often run into websites on my work laptop, which doesn’t have the latest system, that simply don’t work.If they’re going to upgrade, I have to upgrade, and to upgrade I have to discard stuff I want to keep.Every day I get the red warning signal—computer is hungry but can’t be fed until I start throwing my hard work away. Or at least putting it where it will take extra effort to get it back.
Also, how are you supposed to find the time for upgrades when you use your computer constantly?A typical download and install takes over an hour.If we’re so wired, when are we possibly going to find the time for that?And I still haven’t cleared enough space on my hard drive.My external drive’s getting too full.I guess it’s impossible to keep everyone happy.In the midst of all this I squeeze in some time to use my laptop for that which I actually bought it—to do my research and writing and, during the pandemic, to buy the necessities of life.And if I don’t upgrade Zoom’s going to stop working because it’s upgrading too.I need to buy a computer that does nothing but upgrade itself.That might be the solution.That, or going back to good old-fashioned pen and paper.
So, after writing a post about The X-Files, I finished season three, forgetting up until then that the last episode was “Talitha Cumi.”Apart from being part of the alien mythology arc, the biblically literate recognize the title as the words Jesus said to Jairus’ daughter as he raised her from the dead.Appropriately enough, the episode features an alien-human hybrid that is able to raise the dead and to shape-shift.This particular episode also has an intriguing dialogue between the Smoking Man and Jeremiah Smith (the hybrid) where they discuss whether the alien agenda for people, or that of the shadowy cabal, is better.With a theology drawn from the Grand Inquisitor chapter of The Brothers Karamazov (according to Wikipedia, and which I have no reason to doubt), they argue from different perspectives.The Smoking Man explains that they have given people science instead of God and miracles will only confuse the issue.
While not exactly Fyodor Dostoyevsky, this scene raises some very real questions.Are people happier not believing?Not only that, but the cynicism of the Smoking Man matches rather precisely the modus operandi of our government some two decades later.There’s a reason we keep coming back to the classics.The X-Files mythology is, like the Cthulhu Mythos, woven throughout a larger tapestry whose warp and weft both seem to be religion.It ran far longer than Sleepy Hollow ever did, and it would take considerable effort to tease all of the Bible, let alone religion, out of it.They make the story far more believable.
This particular episode also displays the staying power of the classics.Long, ponderous books like The Brothers Karamazov require concerted effort to read in these soundbite days of internet hegemony.That Grand Inquisitor chapter, however, has been enormously influential.(I recall during my most recent rereading of the novel that I hit that wonderful chapter and then realized I still had hundreds of pages to go.)We often have trouble telling God from the Devil.Just look at today’s political scene and try to disagree.In the X-Files diegesis there is a shadowy, high-powered group that got to the extraterrestrials first.They keep the secrets to themselves while the masses play out their insignificant lives that enrich those in charge.Democracy, it seems, used to be about elected representatives seeing to the will of the people.It perhaps assumes a greater educational base than we’ve been able to retain.But still, with chapters like “Talitha Cumi” we see that there may be some glimmer of hope after all.
The earliest sunrise doesn’t take place on the longest day.Things like this are what kept me out of a career in astronomy.No, the earliest morning occurs about a week before the summer solstice.It keeps staying light later in the evening, but the darkness creeps back in the a.m.I know this because I awake before sunrise and I jog at first light in the summer.For a couple of weeks now I’ve been having to start my jog later and later as I wait for the sun to catch up.The latest sunset is about a week after the solstice.Now matter how you count it, the days are getting shorter now.Another lesson I’ve learned from my early morning jogs is that it’s chilliest just before sunrise.The temperature keeps dropping from what it is around 3:00 a.m., meaning that it’s coolest just before the sun comes up.Life lessons from the jogging trail.
I took astronomy both in high school and college.Always fascinated by space I guess I was optimistic that perhaps the mathematics would’ve dropped out of it somewhere between diploma and baccalaureate.My mind is more of the humanities type, dealing with approximations and analogies.The concepts I get, but I can’t swim in formulas.One of the main sources of perplexities was just what I’ve been describing about the earliest dawn and latest evening.Shouldn’t they be the same day?And how is it that the longest day is neither the earliest sunrise nor latest sunset?Math may explain that, but I can’t.There’s a wonder in it all.
Jogs before work (for I start that early as well) are possible only a few months of the year at this latitude.They will give way to lunchtime breaks soon enough and yet summer has only just started.The days will seem longer although in fact they are getting shorter.You see what I mean about approximations and analogies?I still occasionally read books about astronomy, and when NASA (or some privately funded venture) makes announcements about what’s going on in the heavens I pay attention.Yes, I would liked to have gone into astronomy, but life has a way of steering you down certain paths.Besides, there’s a certain wonder in retaining the mystery of how the longest day occurs three times in the course of two weeks, depending on your definition.
It occurs to me that my post on Sunday may have been a touch cryptic.(I can be naughty at times.)Horror Homeroom was good enough to publish a piece I’d written about the movie Midsommar, a film that got its hooks into me earlier this year.Here’s the link in case you’d like to read it (it’s free): http://www.horrorhomeroom.com/midsommar-and-cross-quarter-day-horror/.It’s not an article using the Bible and horror as in yesterday’s post, but rather it is an exploration of the broader relationship between horror and religion.The origin of religion has long been a fascination, and the more I look into the connection with what makes us afraid, the more I find in common.But why midsummer when summer’s only just beginning?
Ancient peoples in temperate zones, according to the records they left behind, carefully observed the change of seasons.Without a tilted, spinning globe as a model the science of the time (which was likely their religion) suggested that the heavenly bodies were migratory.If you use raw observation that’s what seems to be the case.Now that I sit in the same office every day with a south and a west window, it becomes very clear how the sun shifts over the course of the year.In the winter it seems to be on a journey far to the south.Religions of such science would want to know, of course, when it would start coming back.The years were divided into segments—we still recognize four of them in our seasons although, in truth, they are merely gradual changes that take place in the weather as the earth’s tilt moves our hemisphere toward or away from the sun.
Midsummer was a northern European festival to celebrate the longest day.Whether this is the start of summer or the middle of summer is merely a matter of interpretation.The film Midsommar plays on the disorienting long span of daylight in northern Sweden.Without the dark to guide us, sleep and the regular rhythms of daily life can become difficult.When the people believe the old religion, well, let your imagination run wild.Horror films often lurk in these transitional times of the year.We tend to associate them with Halloween, but there’s enough to be afraid of right now.Not all horror has religious components, of course.Nevertheless it has been there from the beginning, from when van Helsing pulled out a crucifix to frighten off Dracula.And it continues, in perhaps more sophisticated ways, even in the broad daylight.
It reminded me of a nightmare.The box, containing a book, was soaked through.A sudden thunderstorm had come before we knew the box was even there on the porch and memories of several boxes of rain-ruined books came back uninvited.Water and books just don’t mix.This particular book, I knew, was Peter Thuesen’s Tornado God, which I had ordered back in December and which has just been released.The irony wasn’t lost on me.My own second book, Weathering the Psalms, was a rather inelegant treatment on a similar topic and I’ll discuss Thuesen’s book in further detail here once I’ve read it.The point is that no matter how arrogant we become as a species the weather just remains beyond our control.The rainbow at the end of this small storm was that although the packaging was soaked, I found the box before the book itself had time to get wet.
My research, ever since my first book, has largely been about making connections.The weather is so quotidian, so common, that we discuss it without trepidation in casual conversation.It is, however, one of the most dangerous things on our planet.Severe storms kill both directly and indirectly.Cyclones, typhoons, and hurricanes can do so on a massive scale.So can their dramatic opposite, drought.Snow and melting ice caps also threaten life, as do floating chunks of ice in chilly oceans.It’s no wonder that the weather has been associated with gods from the earliest times.Even today literalists will say God is in the sky although meteorologists and astronomers can find no pearly gates when they look up.We just can’t shake the idea that weather is some kind of reflection of divine moodiness.
As weather becomes more and more extreme—it’s already a system that we’ve tipped seriously off balance—I suspect more and more people will start to assign it some kind of divine agency.This June we’ve already gone from shivering mornings with frost on the roof to nights when sleep is impossible because it’s so warm and humid, all within a matter of a couple of days.And this isn’t that unusual.Wait’l the gods really get angry.Weather is closely related to the water cycle, of course.We can learn about such things from books.We can’t take them out during a storm, however, and homeownership is all about keeping water out, or only in prescribed locations indoors.When the delivery driver leaves a box on your porch, however, it remains within reach of the storm gods.
The pandemic, like any news event these days, has generated a whole new vocabulary.I had to look up PPE on Google (Personal Protective Equipment, if you live in a cave like me).I want to help with the effort to curb the coronavirus, but being a non-essential worker, I’m not sure what I can do.Then my wife found an organization making PPEs.In this case the equipment they make is face-shields.And they were looking for, believe it or not, transparency paper.Well, it’s really not paper, but acetate.Although we’ve had to move several times since being pushed out of the Nashotah House nest, when I went looking for that box of transparency film that I paid for out of my own pocket in the PPPD (Pre-PowerPoint Days), I found it without too much trouble.We still had 25 unused sheets left, and we donated them to the cause.
Nashotah House used to have one semester of required Hebrew and one semester of Greek.Since the curriculum was highly regulated in those days, there was no opportunity for further courses in either language.If you teach Hebrew you know that no textbook assumes just fourteen to sixteen weeks to learn it.I quickly gave up using textbooks and had students begin translating as I walked them through it.I had to use an overhead projector since Nashotah had no internet connection until the turn of the millennium.It was such a small account that the cable companies didn’t want to go all the way out there to lay the physical lines then necessary for connectivity.So I bought transparency film.I even learned how to run it through my printer which, thankfully, wasn’t dot-matrix.
Over the years I bought quite a few boxes of the stuff.Then the Enlightenment.Let there be PowerPoint.I converted all my teaching to PowerPoint slides while others made fun.When my services were no longer required, I had to purchase a projector so that I could continue to teach on a freelance basis.But I kept that expensive transparency film.Now it is out there covering faces, and hopefully, unlike seminary education, saving lives.As an erstwhile teacher of Greek and Hebrew I’ve found myself having to make some flashcards to learn the new words the crisis is giving us.It’s a good thing, then, that when I was looking for transparency film I also found a couple packs of unopened index cards.Sometimes antiquated pedagogy is commodious after all.