I read an interesting article on Catholic doctrine on usury lately.

Here.

To summarize, there was a Catholic law in medieval times against charging interest on loans (“usury”) that went way back, all the way to some passages in the Old Testament.  St. Thomas Aquinas came up with a logical explanation for it (I can’t make head nor tails of it, which is no reflection on the saint) and then later thinkers developed and articulated his rationale in a way that legitimately undercut the rules on usury, so the rules on usury largely went away.

This is a story that generalizes.  There are two morals you can take from this story; they cut in opposite directions.

First, the tendency to come up with explanations and rationales for commandments can be dangerous.  Catholics in particular but basically everybody have a real tendency to decide that the explanation is the Thing, not the commandment it attempts to explain.  So the commandment can be modified or abandoned when it conflicts with the explanation.   This can be bad.  It is one of the main tools of casuistry and Pharisaism, and its in the form of historicism, of liberal theology.

But second, commandments that are generally phrased were still often implicitly modified and contextualized by the situation that existed when they were given.  It is often a mistake (not to mention contrary to agency) to refuse to think about *why* a commandment might exist at all.

The only solution is to get light.  Revelation is the answer.

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Happy Fourth!

My brain, ever the puppy dog, woke me up at 4 AM to share a parody on modesty it had composed, apparently in response to a dream we were having about boring speeches.

Sometimes I wish for a little less enthusiasm.

With the death of popular music I assume all our friends young and old are familiar with Nights in White Satin but if not you will just  have to imagine that what you are about to read is really, really funny.

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There’s a meme floating around that has been on my mind.  It’s an illustration of a 1950s backyard cookout,  much like the one above, with a wojak pointing at it saying it’s all lies.  “No one was ever happy!”–something like that.

I tried to find it for you.  Instead you will have to rely on my masterful verbal description.

What the meme reflects is the Freudian-Progressive tendency in our culture to assume that everything normal and apparently functional is a lie, the reality is misery and oppression.

Like so much else,  this is debased Christianity.

Unfortunately, it is a form of debased Christianity that is current among Christians.

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On the sweetness

For the second hour of church, Bishop has asked the Stake Patriarch to speak on patriarchal blessings.

He is an old rancher, browned and wrinkled like only an old rancher can be.  Bald.  Grew up in the colonies.

For 30 minutes all he does is outline the gospel, every part of it.  Each bit is pithy, short, with the quality of an aphorism.  Agency, growth, creation, knowledge, sin, forgiveness, atonement, Church, priesthood, ordinances, commandments, temples, marriage, children, primary, you name it.  Then, “that brings me to patriarchal blessings.  They fit in this way: … , … , and … .”  The end.

It is so sweet.

For, behold, I say unto you that Zion shall flourish, and the glory of the Lord shall be upon her;

And she shall be an ensign unto the people, and there shall come unto her out of every nation under heaven.

And the day shall come when the nations of the earth shall tremble because of her, and shall fear because of her terrible ones. The Lord hath spoken it. Amen.

–D&C 64:41-43

I have decided to become a Zionist.*

*Our Zion

There is a really striking parallel between our temples and our people.

The temples and the saints of yesteryear were few, rural, Western, quirky and eccentric, and often but not always beautiful in an unusual way– homespun high art. (more…)

I had already figured out that our teenagers weren’t really doing the modest thing anymore.

I had also gathered that there is a mini trend of endowed Saints going about sans garments much of the day.

But I wasn’t expecting to go to a BYU married student ward and see several women dressed in a way that is incompatible with garments. Or all the guys with skanky long hair. Or the string ties (that one I liked).

O tempora, O mores.

D&C 60:4 — I think he is calling you his jewel. (more…)

My father’s hands are rough and wrinkled.

The dark stains left from scrubbed-off dirt and grass and grease.

The little hairs, the ink from where he drew

with engineer’s precision

plans for the pastures on yellowed graph paper

at the kitchen table.

Once he held a bat with me and said,

“hold it like this, hands together, not too hard but like you mean it.”

My  mother’s hands are swelled and toiled.

The pink wrinkles on the knuckles from soaking in the dishwater.

The speck of dried dough she picks off when she notices,

the callus from the needle,

the lotion smell from the endless struggle against

the marks of struggle.

I remember days when she held up my hand to look at in hers and said,

“yes, you really did a number on yourself, let me wash it out and bandage you up,

let’s be more careful!”

My Savior’s hands are run right through.

Times are when reaches down and grabs mine, pulling me

from the rough chaos of the water

into light and air.

On the sweetness of Saint life.

The new YW class presidency speaks.   Each girl starts by talking about her dad before saying a few things of general religious interest.  It is really quite affecting.

The twelve-year old has written down a collection of  her dad’s best dad  jokes.  My favorites is the very Anglo-American “What’s the definition of a dad joke? A joke by a dad” and “Sometimes at church they’ll ask me, ‘Brother X, are you awake?  Are you paying attention?’ and I think, what a weird way to start the lesson.”

The 16-year old thanks her dad for reading Harry Potter so they could talk about it.  She says she hasn’t forgotten her return promise to read the Lord of the Rings.  The 15-year old says her dad kept trying to teach her to ride a bike until she learned.  It took five years.

The Father is the Adult Stage of the Human Male

“Long periods of peace foster certain optical illusions: one is the conviction that the inviolability of the home is grounded in the constitution, which should guarantee it.  In reality, it is grounded in the family father, who, sons at his side, fills the doorway with an axe in his hand.”

-Ernst Junger.

I have a new son-in-law and he and my daughter have had their first baby.  I see the burden he feels to provide for his family and make it possible for my daughter to raise their child, and for him to also.  It is almost crushing him but he staggers on.  My heart goes out to him.

On the sweetness of Mormon life

8-year old sitting by himself on the front row beaming.

Dad conducting.

12-year old sister chorister.

10-year old sister opening prayer.

Mom speaking.

5-year old brother and 3-year old sister providing improvised comedic relief.

Dad baptizing and confirming.

13-year old brother on the closing prayer.

Grins breaking out everywhere.

Ahem. If I may, dear sirs and madams of the Jewish persuasion,

While one would hardly presume to dictate your reading list—least of all to a people with so estimable a literary heritage—I wonder if I might, with the utmost delicacy, suggest the perusal of a certain passage in what is known among the Gentiles as the New Testament. I refer, of course, to that rather spirited affair often dubbed the Battle of Armageddon.

Given certain recent events—the sort that cause even the more blasé butlers to polish the silver a touch more nervously—it may prove of more than passing interest. Not, of course, that one suggests any conclusions—merely that a quick peek might be… prudent.

One does hate to show up at a prophetic military engagement underdressed.

No pressure, naturally. Just a friendly tip from one who has seen rather too many apocalyptic horsemen galloping about the place lately for comfort.

Yours in faithful service and polished candlesticks,
Everard J. Twinge
(Butler, Retired—though always alert)

Usually, when one has a complex and interesting thought, it is best to polish it first, and arrange it like a seven course meal, prepared for someone important. But these are not fully fleshed out thoughts. Indeed, now that I am delving into this, I find I am in great danger of delving too deeply, as it were. I am shocked just how much Isaiah has to say on the Fall of Babylon. But the pure Isaiah exposition will have to wait. For now, I am going to dump the jigsaw puzzle pieces on the table, and let all present work them out.

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