There was a church class for teenage boys whose teacher was extremely gifted at teaching.  But many Sundays he didn’t teach them at all–he had one of the boys do it.  They did it poorly.  They taught by rote or tried to liven it up by being jokey or playful in ways that were inappropriate for what they were trying to teach.  He would issue gentle pointers here and there, and some minor improvements would happen, but on the whole the boys’ lessons continued to be much worse than his.

A visiting friend asked him why he allowed the boys to degrade his average output in this way.

“True,” the teacher said, “but I won’t be around forever.  The  only way for them to become good teachers someday is to start by being bad teachers.”

The friend was puzzled.  “But you said it yourself,” the friend said, “you won’t even be around then.”

A young woodpecker with a newly-minted Ph.D. in lignite impactology set out into the world.

Aha! he said, alighting.  Here is what appears to be wood.  As I have studied ash, beach, elm, oak, pine, and fir, and many other varieties of wood, I can be expected to accurately identify wood even when in an unusual form that would deceive the layman.  And here by this wood am I, viz, a woodpecker with credentials in impactology.  I shall then surely proceed to encounter, acquire, and consume insects in this wood.

Thus satisfied, he set to busily pecking a fresh plywood sheet nailed over a store front, while a hurricane rolled in.

Something happened this morning that made me think.

We were out late at a community theater production last night so I let everybody sleep in.  When I woke them up, late, I told them they had to hustle to get to church on time.

A certain young man was not very cooperative.  He dawdled, poked around playing chess, reading his Kindle, took a relaxing bath…  I got on his case pretty hard.

After things were calmed down and he was finally moving well under the impetus of Dad-Power, the Lovely One told him what an exceptional young man he was, how few young men went to Church each Sunday, were worthy to prepare the Sacrament.

She was right and I told him so.

Now, this would be the point in the typical LDS talk where I would say my wife had a better perspective than I did.

But you know me better than that, my poppets.

My wife and I were both fully right.

It is a bad mistake to think you are doing well just because you are doing better than almost anyone else.  Measure the climb by the mountain ahead, not by the people on the path behind.

But it is also a bad mistake to not recognize the good you are and the good you are doing.

There once was a family with a little boy and a talking dog and a talking cat.

This family had rules, and they were good rules.  They were posted on the refrigerator.  Now the cat, of all the family, seemed to make no effort to follow the rules unless he was sure to be caught, but he was also inordinately interested in the rules.  For instance, once when Mom was dicing some cucumber peels to put in the compost, he wanted to know why that didn’t violate the rule against damaging things, and refused to be pawned off with the explanation that ‘this was different.’  Finally the family had to add a rule to the rest on the fridge stating that composting was not damaging property.  And so on, that was the kind of interest he had in the rules.  The little boy, on the other hand, didn’t bother too much with the exact rules but tried to follow them when he remembered.  And the dog kept them completely.

Now one day Dad and Mom had to go on a long trip and wouldn’t be back until late.  On the white board by the front door they wrote one big new rule; it said, “FOLLOW THE RULES ON THE FRIDGE.”

When they left, the cat promptly went to the fridge and started to tear down the paper with the rules.  The boy and the dog stopped him.  The cat hissed, “no grabbing, no force, that’s a rule!”  The boy retorted, “but you are tearing down the good rules!”  “Is there a rule against that?” the cat asked.

The boy was perplexed.  There really wasn’t.  But after some thought he brightened.  “Look!” he said.  “Right there! It says ‘no damaging things.'”

“I am going to to put in the compost,” the cat said triumphantly.   “That’s allowed in the rules.  Now let go of me.  Holding me is against the rules!”  The dog let go.

“But you are trying to destroy the rules,” the boy said, and held on even though there was no rule saying he could.  And the cat bit and scratched and the boy still held on.

Which of these loved the good rules?

A dove was cooing sadly by a stream.

Another dove asked what wat the matter.

“I am the deputy director in charge of a crew of beavers to build a dam here,” the first dove said.  “I did everything right I knew how.  I consulted the crows.  I consulted the parrots.  I held many meetings to explain my plan in detail to the beavers.  I fired beavers who didn’t display a team ethic.  I set metrics.  I reviewed records.  I monitored implementation of the plan.  But…” she tilted her head towards the stream.  It ran undammed.

“Maybe the beavers had low morale,” the second dove said.

The director dove replied, “I had an open door policy, so long as the discussions were constructive.”

“Then you did everything right,” the second dove replied.  “It must be the beavers’ fault.”

The King of All took three young men in his service and set them down on the shores of a new virgin America, thick with trees.  You will found me three great houses here and settle this land, he said.  What will the motto of your house be?

Manifest destiny, said the first.  For a continent lies before us!

And the King nodded and blessed him.

Ad astra! said the second.  For even the sky and very stars lie before us.

And the King nodded and blessed him.

By axe and by womb, said the third.  Because my brothers are right.

And the King nodded, and blessed him, and smiled.

(more…)

It just occurred to me that Moses standing above the fray with the Amalekites, arms outstretched, is an image of Christ on the cross.  In other words, this is a very similar message to the episode in Numbers 21 with the brass serpent:  Look to Christ and live.  Look to Christ lifted up on the cross and live.

I am going to have to re-read Alma’s sermon on the subject to see if there is more depth there that I have overlooked not knowing there would be another image of Christ associated with the Exodus that would be context for his sermon.

I saw my son correct a new deacon into the right place in the sacrament line-up by grabbing him by the shoulder and moving him into place.

Afterwards I told him to try asking.  I said that a man should be as powerful as he can but also have his power as under restraint as he can.

That is I think the right answer, but I’ve just been reading about the cultures of early America so I reflected that my answer wasn’t the answer that everyone would give.

Some of the earnest, pious settler groups would emphasize the meekness and restraint only.  Some of the more hard-bitten groups would emphasize the power only.

And while I think my advice to my son is right, it isn’t perfect and it can’t be perfect.  Nothing mortal can capture the fulness of the truth.  There are situations where power is called for that only the unrelenting focus on power, with all its faults, is going to be equal to.  There are situations where meekness and restraint are called for that only the relatively pure emphasis on meekness and restraint will have prepared a man for.  Every approach leaves money on the table.  Every approach folds on winning hands, and matches bets with no cards worth betting.

All we can do is muddle through.

Once there was a man who owned a wonderful horse.  This was a wonderful man–he was stronger, braver, more agile, more skilled, and altogether better than anyone else around.  So was his horse.  The man and the horse could outpace any other rider and horse, be the race short or be the race long.

One day a stranger rode in.  His appearance was striking.  He was taller, handsomer, nobler, and in every way superior, including to the man.  So also was the stranger’s horse more excellent.  But the man was full of his own greatness and knew it would be beneath him to cede pride of place without a fight.  So he told the stranger.  “Let’s race and see who is the better man.”

“What distance?” the stranger asked.

“Any distance,” the man said.

“To the ends of the earth,” the stranger said.

To his credit, the man did not outwardly blanch.  “To the ends of the earth,” he said fiercely, “I swear it by the LORD God!”

“I am He by whom you swear,” said the stranger.

Then they turned and raced.  Off through the plains and then the deserts.  Up mountains.  Plunging into rivers.  Always the stranger led, and his horse never tired, but by  the greatest strength and the greatest horsemanship the man and his own horse at least stayed within sight.  The man’s horse ran like never a mortal horse has run; the man rode like never a mortal man has rode.  When his animal was too tired to carry him further, he got off and ran alongside.  But they never lessened the distance between themselves and the stranger and his horse, not even by an inch.

At last they came to the sea, where the stranger and his horse stood waiting for them.

“The ends of the earth,” the man gasped.  “I am defeated.  We have lost.”

But the stranger shook his head.  “It is only the sea,” he said, and with a gesture he threw the  horse and his rider into the sea.

What happens next? Well, it possible that the man and his horse struggle until he drowns in the sea.  A jest, cruel but a jest.  It is possible that the horse flounders a bit then rises until he rides it across the top of the water like no horse and rider have ever run before.  It is possible that the ending is not yet–he and his horse are struggling still, and whether they rise or sink is not yet known.

Which is the ending depends on who you are and who you think the mortal man on the mortal horse is.  God comes to you in your season.  Sometimes like Coyote, sometimes like a trumpet and a war cry, and sometimes like a watching, unmoving Judge.

But whichever it is, I think they call come to the glorious ending in the end.

The song in Exodus 15 is a very long song.  I have a hard time imagining 12 tribes of thousands of people singing it together.  We should probably imagine they were doing something other than polyphonic choral singing.  I just learned, for example, that the early Puritans in New England did something called rote singing instead of regular singing: everyone bellowed the words as loud as they could with their own tune and own meter, and they found this experience strangely moving.

It is also very moving.  Even now, oceans and centuries away, I can feel the Israelites’ awe at what the LORD had done for them.  The horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.   I took accomplishment for granted when I was a kid but now that I am an adult I realize how remarkable and praiseworthy it is that anything gets done, even the simplest task is full of physical and psychological obstacles, and that a thing is done is a thing of awe–and this is not just true by comparison to failed efforts–to have a thing done in the world is a beauty–much less when it is the shattering things that the LORD has done.

I had a surprising literary revelation.  In reading the drama of Moses’ efforts to get the children of Israel out of Egypt I asked myself a simple question: who are the protagonists?  Who is acting?

And the answer isn’t really Moses and Aaron.  At all points, they seem to be following a script that the LORD sketched out for them.

The two decision-makers are the LORD and Pharoah.  The LORD makes an offer, Pharoah rejects it, the LORD sends a plague, Pharoah relents, the LORD ends the plague, Pharoah changes his mind.

It is possible to read this entire thing as the LORD offering Pharoah chances to repent over and over and over.  Even at the very end, when the LORD has Moses lead the children of Israel out by a way that apparently traps them against the Red Sea, this is yet another chance for Pharoah to see the apparent opportunity to go back on his word and to forego it.  Instead, he takes.  The Lord’s offer has once again, and finally, hardened his heart.

And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying,

2Speak unto the children of Israel, that they turn and encamp before Pihahiroth, between Migdol and the sea, over against Baalzephon: before it shall ye encamp by the sea.

3For Pharaoh will say of the children of Israel, They are entangled in the land, the wilderness hath shut them in.

This was a fantastic post by FoJG William Tychonievich

Satan Divided Against Himself

 Remember what Sorath wants — for men to hate the good as such and to pursue evil strictly for the evulz — and how contrary to human nature that is. How to get us humans to sail against the wind of our own deepest nature? By tacking, of course.

• Sorath’s goal: Avoid good, pursue evil

• Human nature: Pursue good, avoid evil

• Lucifer tack: Sacrifice the avoidance of evil in order to pursue good (e.g. to seek pleasure)

• Ahriman tack: Sacrifice the pursuit of good in order to avoid evil (e.g. to be “safe”)

Full of Virtue Set goodness.

There is something interesting about water in the Exodus.  Rivers to blood, the parting of the Red Sea, and then several times when Moses had to bring water out of stone.
The primordial chaos, entropy, the Fall–too much of it kills, but you  need some of it.

We emphasize completely going under the water as the baptism rite, which is correct, but the key thing to me seems to be the coming back up again.

I dreamed I was in a dim, cavernous room in some Mediterranean country.  The walls were thick, there was one door opening on the street which was an exteremely narrow cobblestone passage with a blank-faced row of houses across the cobbles.  It was an empty house being let.  It was all one room with a couple of appliances in one corner, a small closet bathroom, and stairs on one side.   The ceiling was very high and  there was one naked bulb, the light was almost all the weak autumn or winter light from the open door and one high, narrow window.

Three young men and the real estate agent came in.  I was only a viewpoint off at one corner.  They looked around a bit, asked a few questions, and after one unusual answer the agent sighed and said,  ‘you guys aren’t renters, you are here to rob me, right?’  They nodded assent and shoved him at gunpoint back into the corner near where my point of view was.  (By now the room had altered.  Still basically the same, but now the stairs came down from the entrance to the main room where I was.)  Suddenly one of the robbers drew his firearm and shoved it into my gut.  “You too,” he said, “hands up.”  I was completely taken aback to be involved in the dream.  More awkwardly, my hands were in the pockets of my trench coat (we were all wearing trench coats) and the way the guy pressed up against me my hands were trapped in there.  I told him I would have to jerk to get my hands out and not to be alarmed, and that was where the dream ended.

I woke up around 2 extremely tired but struggling to breathe with allergies.  I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower and then sat there with the lights off.  Eventually I was bored enough and partly awake enough to try doing a sudoku puzzle with a reading light (the reading light so I didn’t get woken up fully).  I must have been partly delirious because I then had an imaginary dialogue with an interlocutor and it seemed real to me at the time.  I explained to the guy that I had gotten a few numbers in and realized I had made a mistake, so I looked at the solution to find where I had gone wrong and erase everything I had done after that point.  I was doing pretty well right then so he said it was probably because I had unconsciously seen all the numbers and memorized them.  I patiently disagreed, saying it was possible but I had a lot of late night experience doing these puzzles.  We went back and forth as I worked the puzzle further, with him getting increasingly baroque in his insistence that I was too unskilled to do the puzzle as well as I was, and the only explanation was that I had committed 81 humbers and their arrangement to memory in about 15 seconds of looking at the solution.  We were arguing and I was hunting for a phrase that any educated person would know, I had said the first part but couldn’t bring to mind the second, and he just stared at me blankly, and that was when I realized I didn’t like the guy.