HOW DOES JESUS SAVE US
Review of an essay by William C. Placher
By George Pasley
The late William Placher was long my favorite Presbyterian theologian, though he rarely published and labored in the obscure ranks of undergraduate educators at Wabash College in Indiana. Nonetheless, his work on the “Brief Statement of Faith,” and his book, “Narratives of a Vulnerable God” were well thought, clearly written, compelling, insightful, and both modern and traditional.
The June 2, 2009 issue of The Christian Century contains an essay by Placher on soteriology, “How Does Jesus Save?” which I find to be of great value.
For students of theology it provides excellent summaries of most of the classical and modern theories of how Jesus saves. He lifts up the strong point of each theory, and summarizes the critique of each theory. Particularly helpful is his summary and critique of Renee Girard’s mimetic theory.
But most helpful is his encouragement of a different (though not necessarily new) way of thinking, which follows two principles.
The first principle, borrowed from Hans W. Frei, is this: “in theology, doctrines should illuminate and clarify stories rather than stories illustrating doctrines.” Placher defines the stories as “God’s covenant work with Israel and then the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.” Then says, “We figure out and affirm the doctrines necessary to make sense of those stories (holding them tight if they really are necessary), but the stories come first.”
The second principle is Calvin’s, “Christ saves us by the whole course of his obedience,” a principle that Placher points out was often ignored by Calvin and most of the historical creeds (including- especially- the Apostle’s Creed).
The theory that Placher then espouses is best described by the early theologian Irenaeus, “(Christ) became what we are in order to enable us to become what he is.”
Placher says we need to stretch the idea of “becoming what we are”, as that would imply that the incarnation alone was sufficient for our salvation, and it clearly wasn’t: “At that point…the boundaries of the work remained far from clear. Were gentiles also saved? What about the despised and condemned? The list of such questions could be long extended. Only when God incarnate has welcomed sinners into his table fellowship, cured those who suffered, died the death assigned the blaspheming and seditious, even gone into the realm of those who rejected God and exist in a hell of utter isolation…only when this God incarnate has been raised can we glimpse the expansiveness of God’s work of salvation. Only the crucified One can save us.”
Some object that Irenaeus description amounts to deification (making gods of human beings) and Placher argues (effectively, I think) against that worry. But just in case, he offers another way of looking at it (a way I often emphasize when preaching about the New Testament Joseph): Jesus became one of us in order that we might be adopted by God.
I think Placher’s ideas “will preach” for a long time to come.
George R. Pasley
May 22, 2009
Ketchikan, AK
Friday, May 22, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
THE HERETIC'S DAUGHTER
THE HERETIC'S DAUGHTER
By Kathleen Kent
Little, Brown and Company, 2008
ISBN 0-316-02448-8
Book Review by George R. Pasley
My ancestors were among the group that settled Salem, so even though they left by the time of the Witch Trials, this was a book I had to read. Also, my interest in the history of theology in America made the tile of this book somewhat enticing to me.
The Heretic’s Daughter is a historical novel written by a direct descendant of one of the women executed for witchcraft, one Martha Carrier. The author has painstakingly researched all the recorded history of the trials, as well the lifestyles and culture of their times, making Heretic’s Daughter not merely interesting reading, but educational as well.
Of course, much of the novel is conjecture, but it is conjecture based on historical evidence. It does much to explain what happened, without excusing any of it. The novel portrays the corruption of the theocracy that was early colonial New England, while at the same time portraying the faith of those few who had a more benevolent view of God and a more compassionate leaning towards humanity.
Of particular interest is how the author was able to weave into the narrative the extreme pressure for land that was placed on the region by a rapidly growing population, the threats imposed by increased resistance by Native Americans, and how those two variables played into the fires of fear that were fanned by accusations of witchcraft.
The novel is a narrated by a nine year old daughter of Martha Carrier, Sarah Carrier, who was herself jailed on charges of witchcraft and forced to testify against her mother. The novel captures the normal tension between mother and daughter, and in a wonderful way offers a picture of two women who managed to bind themselves back together despite suffering together an ordeal that defied every notion of goodness residing within our human nature.
George R. Pasley
February 27, 2009
By Kathleen Kent
Little, Brown and Company, 2008
ISBN 0-316-02448-8
Book Review by George R. Pasley
My ancestors were among the group that settled Salem, so even though they left by the time of the Witch Trials, this was a book I had to read. Also, my interest in the history of theology in America made the tile of this book somewhat enticing to me.
The Heretic’s Daughter is a historical novel written by a direct descendant of one of the women executed for witchcraft, one Martha Carrier. The author has painstakingly researched all the recorded history of the trials, as well the lifestyles and culture of their times, making Heretic’s Daughter not merely interesting reading, but educational as well.
Of course, much of the novel is conjecture, but it is conjecture based on historical evidence. It does much to explain what happened, without excusing any of it. The novel portrays the corruption of the theocracy that was early colonial New England, while at the same time portraying the faith of those few who had a more benevolent view of God and a more compassionate leaning towards humanity.
Of particular interest is how the author was able to weave into the narrative the extreme pressure for land that was placed on the region by a rapidly growing population, the threats imposed by increased resistance by Native Americans, and how those two variables played into the fires of fear that were fanned by accusations of witchcraft.
The novel is a narrated by a nine year old daughter of Martha Carrier, Sarah Carrier, who was herself jailed on charges of witchcraft and forced to testify against her mother. The novel captures the normal tension between mother and daughter, and in a wonderful way offers a picture of two women who managed to bind themselves back together despite suffering together an ordeal that defied every notion of goodness residing within our human nature.
George R. Pasley
February 27, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
HISTORY BOOKS WORTH READING
The writing of history for general interest readers has seen a renaissance in recent years, much to my delight…here are some of the ones on my shelf (hmmm…hardly any church history on my list):
COLLAPSE, by Jared Diamond. Chronicles the collapse of selected civilizations, and how that might relate to our own.
BARBARA JORDAN, American hero, by Mary Beth Rogers
BEYOND THE RIVER, by Ann Hagedorn. Chronicles the abolitionist movement and the Underground Railroad, especially as participated in by Presbyterian pastor John Rankin.
AMAZING GRACE, by Eric Metaxas. Chronicles the abolitionist movement in England.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN and THE ROAD TO EMANCIPATION, by William Klingaman.
LINCOLN, By David Herbert Donald.
LINCOLN’S OTHER WHITEHOUSE, by Elizabeth Smith Brownstein.
JOHN ADAMS, by David McCullough.
MAYFLOWER, by Nathaniel Philbrick
WILL IN THE WORLD, by Stephen Greenblatt. Biography of Shakespeare.
HOW THE SCOTS INVENTED THE MODERN WORLD, by Arthur Herman
THE WORST HARD TIME, by Timothy Egan. A story of the Dust Bowl, how we stuck our heads in the sand, how we finally responded, and how we have forgotten many of the lessons.
DUST BOWL, by Donald Worster.
LINCOLN’S GREATEST SPEECH, by Ronald C. White. An excellent analysis of the second inaugural, the times in which it was given, and a great description of the doctrine of providence.
THE PREACHER KING, MARTIN LUTHER KING JR AND THE WORD THAT MOVED AMERICA, by Richard Lischer. Analysis of King’s preaching and its role in the Civil Rights movement, by a leading homiletics professor.
The writing of history for general interest readers has seen a renaissance in recent years, much to my delight…here are some of the ones on my shelf (hmmm…hardly any church history on my list):
COLLAPSE, by Jared Diamond. Chronicles the collapse of selected civilizations, and how that might relate to our own.
BARBARA JORDAN, American hero, by Mary Beth Rogers
BEYOND THE RIVER, by Ann Hagedorn. Chronicles the abolitionist movement and the Underground Railroad, especially as participated in by Presbyterian pastor John Rankin.
AMAZING GRACE, by Eric Metaxas. Chronicles the abolitionist movement in England.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN and THE ROAD TO EMANCIPATION, by William Klingaman.
LINCOLN, By David Herbert Donald.
LINCOLN’S OTHER WHITEHOUSE, by Elizabeth Smith Brownstein.
JOHN ADAMS, by David McCullough.
MAYFLOWER, by Nathaniel Philbrick
WILL IN THE WORLD, by Stephen Greenblatt. Biography of Shakespeare.
HOW THE SCOTS INVENTED THE MODERN WORLD, by Arthur Herman
THE WORST HARD TIME, by Timothy Egan. A story of the Dust Bowl, how we stuck our heads in the sand, how we finally responded, and how we have forgotten many of the lessons.
DUST BOWL, by Donald Worster.
LINCOLN’S GREATEST SPEECH, by Ronald C. White. An excellent analysis of the second inaugural, the times in which it was given, and a great description of the doctrine of providence.
THE PREACHER KING, MARTIN LUTHER KING JR AND THE WORD THAT MOVED AMERICA, by Richard Lischer. Analysis of King’s preaching and its role in the Civil Rights movement, by a leading homiletics professor.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
MAYFLOWER, SHOPPING FOR PORCUPINES, & some observations
I am currently reading two books- MAYFLOWER, by Nathaniel Philbrick, which is a history of New England, from the time of the Mayflower’s settlement until the end of the 17th century, and SHOPPING FOR PORCUPINE, by Seth Kantner, which is a memoir of his growing up in the arctic.
Most of this post will be about something I read this morning in MAYFLOWER, but I have noticed at least one similarity between the two books.
MAYFLOWER talks about how the Indians recognized almost at once the large number of possessions the English had, and began craving most of those things themselves. The English took advantage of this as away of encouraging trade- they wanted to but furs to ship to England, and they wanted to buy land for their growing population.
In particular, the Indians craved flintlock guns. The pilgrims brought with them matchlock guns, which were an earlier technology. Most Indians could actually shoot arrows faster, more accurately, and more scrumptiously, than the English could fire their matchlocks. But the Indians recognized a superior weapon in flintlocks, and the English were glad to sell them so they could get more fur.
But within a few decades the fur bearing animals were almost gone from New England, and when they were the Indians had lost much of their sustainability on the land. They still farmed, but they had sold much of their land in order to buy the English things they admired.
The connection with SHOPPING FOR PORCUPINES is that Kantner, a Caucasian, states that in Alaska the natives likewise were eager to acquire material things, even many things that did not contribute to making a living in the arctic (such as snowmobiles, boats and guns). While Kantner grew up in an igloo and leaned many of the native ways of living, most of his native neighbors were quick to give up the practices that had sustained them for millennium.
The remainder of my comments here refers to a particular narrative in MAYFLOWER.
The book is well-written and easily holds the reader’s interest. Philbrick offers many insights into the fluid nature of the relationship between the Puritans and the Indians. The pages I read this morning dealt with an incident in the so-called “King Philip’s War,” 1675-76.
In February of 1676 two-thousand Indians were fleeing north to reconnoiter with another group of Indians, to take refuge, and to evade a troop of 600 English Cavalry. Philbrick says, “It was a scene worthy of Exodus.” His facts are based on an account written by one of their captives, Mary Rowlandson, a minister’s wife.
“Keeping two thousand Native men, women, and children ahead of a mounted English army might seem out of the question. But as Mary Rowlandson witnessed firsthand, the Indians knowledge of the land and their talent for working cooperatively under extraordinary duress made them more than a match for the fleetest of English forces.” (p. 293)
Rowlandson’s account tells how they crossed a swollen icy river by building rafts and then piling the rafts high with brush so that most crossed without ever getting so much as a foot wet.
In fact, Philbrick reports that when the Puritans arrived at the river, they were afraid to cross and pursued the Indians no further (as perhaps Pharaoh’s army would have been wise to decide in the original Exodus!)
One more element reminded me of the Exodus, in particular the account of manna in the desert:
“It was the third week of her captivity, and Rowlandson’s hunger was such that she greedily ate what she had earlier regarded as “filthy trash,” form groundnuts and corn husks to the rancid offal of a long-dead horse. Rowlandson was often on the edge of starvation, but so were her captors, whose ability to extract sustenance from the seemingly barren winter landscape seemed nothing less than a God-ordained miracle. ‘(S)trangely did the Lord provide for them,” she wrote, ‘that I did not see (all the time that I was among them) one man, woman or child die with hunger’” (p. 294)
Philbrick later quotes Rowlandson’s account of their arrival at their destination “But now I may say as Psalm 137, ‘By the Rivers of Babylon…(I) wept.”” (p. 295)
George R. Pasley
January 2, 2009
Most of this post will be about something I read this morning in MAYFLOWER, but I have noticed at least one similarity between the two books.
MAYFLOWER talks about how the Indians recognized almost at once the large number of possessions the English had, and began craving most of those things themselves. The English took advantage of this as away of encouraging trade- they wanted to but furs to ship to England, and they wanted to buy land for their growing population.
In particular, the Indians craved flintlock guns. The pilgrims brought with them matchlock guns, which were an earlier technology. Most Indians could actually shoot arrows faster, more accurately, and more scrumptiously, than the English could fire their matchlocks. But the Indians recognized a superior weapon in flintlocks, and the English were glad to sell them so they could get more fur.
But within a few decades the fur bearing animals were almost gone from New England, and when they were the Indians had lost much of their sustainability on the land. They still farmed, but they had sold much of their land in order to buy the English things they admired.
The connection with SHOPPING FOR PORCUPINES is that Kantner, a Caucasian, states that in Alaska the natives likewise were eager to acquire material things, even many things that did not contribute to making a living in the arctic (such as snowmobiles, boats and guns). While Kantner grew up in an igloo and leaned many of the native ways of living, most of his native neighbors were quick to give up the practices that had sustained them for millennium.
The remainder of my comments here refers to a particular narrative in MAYFLOWER.
The book is well-written and easily holds the reader’s interest. Philbrick offers many insights into the fluid nature of the relationship between the Puritans and the Indians. The pages I read this morning dealt with an incident in the so-called “King Philip’s War,” 1675-76.
In February of 1676 two-thousand Indians were fleeing north to reconnoiter with another group of Indians, to take refuge, and to evade a troop of 600 English Cavalry. Philbrick says, “It was a scene worthy of Exodus.” His facts are based on an account written by one of their captives, Mary Rowlandson, a minister’s wife.
“Keeping two thousand Native men, women, and children ahead of a mounted English army might seem out of the question. But as Mary Rowlandson witnessed firsthand, the Indians knowledge of the land and their talent for working cooperatively under extraordinary duress made them more than a match for the fleetest of English forces.” (p. 293)
Rowlandson’s account tells how they crossed a swollen icy river by building rafts and then piling the rafts high with brush so that most crossed without ever getting so much as a foot wet.
In fact, Philbrick reports that when the Puritans arrived at the river, they were afraid to cross and pursued the Indians no further (as perhaps Pharaoh’s army would have been wise to decide in the original Exodus!)
One more element reminded me of the Exodus, in particular the account of manna in the desert:
“It was the third week of her captivity, and Rowlandson’s hunger was such that she greedily ate what she had earlier regarded as “filthy trash,” form groundnuts and corn husks to the rancid offal of a long-dead horse. Rowlandson was often on the edge of starvation, but so were her captors, whose ability to extract sustenance from the seemingly barren winter landscape seemed nothing less than a God-ordained miracle. ‘(S)trangely did the Lord provide for them,” she wrote, ‘that I did not see (all the time that I was among them) one man, woman or child die with hunger’” (p. 294)
Philbrick later quotes Rowlandson’s account of their arrival at their destination “But now I may say as Psalm 137, ‘By the Rivers of Babylon…(I) wept.”” (p. 295)
George R. Pasley
January 2, 2009
Sunday, December 7, 2008
UNDER THE OVERPASS, A JOURNEY OF FAITH ON THE STREETS OF AMERICA
By Mike Yankowski
Multnomah Books
Review by George Pasley
Here is an amazing but simple true story that will both inspire and challenge Christians non-Christians alike. It is the story of two college-aged Christians (Mike and Sam) who decide to live on the streets, five months among the homeless in five American cities.
Their purpose was multi-faceted. To begin, the author was wrestling with the issue of how most Christians live in some form of hypocrisy, saying the right words of faith and love but not doing all they can for those in need. Living among the homeless became a way of entering into their suffering, identifying with their needs, and evaluating the response of the church. But along the way they came to understand much more about faith then most Americans, and they had to wrestle with many of their own stereotypes and beliefs.
“I sat there in church trying to remember a time when I’d actually needed to rely fully on Christ rather than on my own abilities” (p. 15)
They traveled together to protect their safety, still they found themselves in danger more than once. They kept their story a secret, yet at least one person figured it out. After all, what were two young, smart, sober people doing on the streets? Still, they found themselves being ignored, scorned, and verbally abused day-by-day. They came to love the people they met, regardless of their addictions.
Theirs is a journey few would dare, but there is much that we can learn from the risks they took. Here are just a few lessons:
The demographics of homeless differed from city to city. Black, older veterans in Washington DC made way to young whites in Portland.
The geographies of the cities made huge differences, and not merely because of differences in climate. In some cities it was easy to get around, but in other cities long distances between good places to sleep and sources of food made life difficult.
Real human contact between the homeless and those who serve them makes a huge impact on individual lives.
The author has a web site, undertheoverpass.com , where more information is available. I plan to lead a book discussion group on this book at my church, and would recommend it to pastors and teachers in churches, to persons outside the church working with the poor and homeless, and to persons studying social issues in any context. It is well written, simple to use, clear and insightful.
By Mike Yankowski
Multnomah Books
Review by George Pasley
Here is an amazing but simple true story that will both inspire and challenge Christians non-Christians alike. It is the story of two college-aged Christians (Mike and Sam) who decide to live on the streets, five months among the homeless in five American cities.
Their purpose was multi-faceted. To begin, the author was wrestling with the issue of how most Christians live in some form of hypocrisy, saying the right words of faith and love but not doing all they can for those in need. Living among the homeless became a way of entering into their suffering, identifying with their needs, and evaluating the response of the church. But along the way they came to understand much more about faith then most Americans, and they had to wrestle with many of their own stereotypes and beliefs.
“I sat there in church trying to remember a time when I’d actually needed to rely fully on Christ rather than on my own abilities” (p. 15)
They traveled together to protect their safety, still they found themselves in danger more than once. They kept their story a secret, yet at least one person figured it out. After all, what were two young, smart, sober people doing on the streets? Still, they found themselves being ignored, scorned, and verbally abused day-by-day. They came to love the people they met, regardless of their addictions.
Theirs is a journey few would dare, but there is much that we can learn from the risks they took. Here are just a few lessons:
The demographics of homeless differed from city to city. Black, older veterans in Washington DC made way to young whites in Portland.
The geographies of the cities made huge differences, and not merely because of differences in climate. In some cities it was easy to get around, but in other cities long distances between good places to sleep and sources of food made life difficult.
Real human contact between the homeless and those who serve them makes a huge impact on individual lives.
The author has a web site, undertheoverpass.com , where more information is available. I plan to lead a book discussion group on this book at my church, and would recommend it to pastors and teachers in churches, to persons outside the church working with the poor and homeless, and to persons studying social issues in any context. It is well written, simple to use, clear and insightful.
Friday, November 14, 2008
HOPE, HUMAN AND WILD
HOPE, HUMAN AND WILD
By Bill McKibben
Milkweed Editions, 1995 & 2007
ISBN 978-157131-300-3
I’ve read a few (very few) articles by Bill McKibben and even corresponded with him by email but had never read one of his books. This fall I resolved to do so, and found Hope, Human & Wild in a bookstore while I was on vacation. Buying and reading it was an excellent course of action!
The book is a sequel of sorts to The End of Nature, but it did not matter that I had not read that particular book. McKibben himself states that End of Nature was a negative book, and having seen some signs of promise he decided it was necessary to write something hopeful. Hope, Human & Wild is that, though it is also sober and cautious.
McKibben starts by describing the rejuvenation of the Adirondack wilderness, but concludes that though the rejuvenation has been assisted by a certain amount of political assistance, it is primarily due to temporary economic and social conditions and can in no way be considered permanent. Therefore, he set out to see what sorts of things might need to happen in order to preserve some wilderness places on earth in sufficient scale as to preserve biodiversity. He thinks perhaps that cities must provide the answers.
His search for answers led him to two unlike urban areas: the city of Curtiba, in Brazil, and the region of Kerala in southern India.
Curtiba provides McKibben, and the reader, with a description of a place that has managed to make public life more important than private life, and to do the things necessary from a political standpoint to enhance the public life. Their mass transit system has become a model for the world, and it is all buses. Recent changes in the bus system have involved some expenses but the system itself was designed very simply and run privately at a profit. Its convenience and low cost have meant fewer cars, less congestion, and more community.
But the buses are just an example. Curtiba is a city that gives hard and serious thought to public housing, and the book provides a delightful description of much that has happened in Curtiba on that account. In other examples, the poor are invited to collect garbage in the narrow alleys inaccessible by truck, and offered a bag of good groceries in exchange for collected garbage. This not only keeps the streets clean, it gives work to the poor and it provides a market for small farmers in the region. In another example, retired buses are set up as vocational schools for the poor.
Kerala is a region in India that has managed to become 100 percent literate and break the injustices of both the caste system and the Indian preference for boy children. McKibben and the experts he interviewed all had a hard time defining the roots of such success, but they seem to emerge from some progressive Hindu theologians and from the region’s willingness to experiment with socialism. Instead of seeking more wealth, the region has shared the wealth it had. McKibben points to the breakup of large estates and the current abundance of small farms, as well as the existence of innumerable coconut trees.
These two locales are then offered as alternatives to a world with an ever increasing demand for consumption. McKibben then returns to his home in the Adirondacks, and talks about the problems being faced and how local persons are beginning to imagine a different scenario than what is imposed by the global economy.
The 2007 edition includes an afterward that describes events that transpired in the three places over the 12 year interim.
McKibben knows that he is asking a lot- he is asking the wealthy nations of the world to adopt a lower standard of living, but he suggests that something might be gained if we do. That something is community, summed up by a Gandhian disciple in Kerala: “What is the good life? The good life is to be a good neighbor; to consider your neighbor as yourself.” (p. 155)
It seems to me that McKibben has succeeded in offering a vision of possibilities that though difficult, might just be possible- if we can find the resolve.
George R. Pasley
November 14, 2008
By Bill McKibben
Milkweed Editions, 1995 & 2007
ISBN 978-157131-300-3
I’ve read a few (very few) articles by Bill McKibben and even corresponded with him by email but had never read one of his books. This fall I resolved to do so, and found Hope, Human & Wild in a bookstore while I was on vacation. Buying and reading it was an excellent course of action!
The book is a sequel of sorts to The End of Nature, but it did not matter that I had not read that particular book. McKibben himself states that End of Nature was a negative book, and having seen some signs of promise he decided it was necessary to write something hopeful. Hope, Human & Wild is that, though it is also sober and cautious.
McKibben starts by describing the rejuvenation of the Adirondack wilderness, but concludes that though the rejuvenation has been assisted by a certain amount of political assistance, it is primarily due to temporary economic and social conditions and can in no way be considered permanent. Therefore, he set out to see what sorts of things might need to happen in order to preserve some wilderness places on earth in sufficient scale as to preserve biodiversity. He thinks perhaps that cities must provide the answers.
His search for answers led him to two unlike urban areas: the city of Curtiba, in Brazil, and the region of Kerala in southern India.
Curtiba provides McKibben, and the reader, with a description of a place that has managed to make public life more important than private life, and to do the things necessary from a political standpoint to enhance the public life. Their mass transit system has become a model for the world, and it is all buses. Recent changes in the bus system have involved some expenses but the system itself was designed very simply and run privately at a profit. Its convenience and low cost have meant fewer cars, less congestion, and more community.
But the buses are just an example. Curtiba is a city that gives hard and serious thought to public housing, and the book provides a delightful description of much that has happened in Curtiba on that account. In other examples, the poor are invited to collect garbage in the narrow alleys inaccessible by truck, and offered a bag of good groceries in exchange for collected garbage. This not only keeps the streets clean, it gives work to the poor and it provides a market for small farmers in the region. In another example, retired buses are set up as vocational schools for the poor.
Kerala is a region in India that has managed to become 100 percent literate and break the injustices of both the caste system and the Indian preference for boy children. McKibben and the experts he interviewed all had a hard time defining the roots of such success, but they seem to emerge from some progressive Hindu theologians and from the region’s willingness to experiment with socialism. Instead of seeking more wealth, the region has shared the wealth it had. McKibben points to the breakup of large estates and the current abundance of small farms, as well as the existence of innumerable coconut trees.
These two locales are then offered as alternatives to a world with an ever increasing demand for consumption. McKibben then returns to his home in the Adirondacks, and talks about the problems being faced and how local persons are beginning to imagine a different scenario than what is imposed by the global economy.
The 2007 edition includes an afterward that describes events that transpired in the three places over the 12 year interim.
McKibben knows that he is asking a lot- he is asking the wealthy nations of the world to adopt a lower standard of living, but he suggests that something might be gained if we do. That something is community, summed up by a Gandhian disciple in Kerala: “What is the good life? The good life is to be a good neighbor; to consider your neighbor as yourself.” (p. 155)
It seems to me that McKibben has succeeded in offering a vision of possibilities that though difficult, might just be possible- if we can find the resolve.
George R. Pasley
November 14, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
FALL OF THE PHANTOM LORD
FALL OF THE PHANTOM LORD
By Andrew Todhunter
Anchor Books, 1998
ISBN 0-385-48641-3
Review by George R. Pasley
The title “Phantom Lord” is a name given by climbers, jumpers and various sorts of extreme sports enthusiasts to the fear of death. Todhunter’s book chronicles a series of visits the author had with Dan Osman, known for the dangerous sports of “free-soloing” (rock climbing without ropes or other safety gear); and "rope jumping" (controlled free-falling) (falling several hundred feet from a cliff then being caught by a safety rope), for which his record was over 1000 feet. Osman died in 1998, shortly after publication of the book, from a fall in Yosemite National Park.
Death of the Phantom Lord occurs when a rope-jumper stands on the edge, confronts his or her fear of death, and leaps. In leaping, fear of death dies, hence, “fall of the Phantom Lord.”
Todhunter intersperses accounts of his visits with Osman with memories of his own risk-taking (Todhunter is a diving instructor and a sailor). The book does not seem to encourage risk-taking, but is instead a guide through the conflict occurring in the author as he wrestles with putting his risk-taking youth behind him in order to take on the responsibilities of marriage and fatherhood.
Todhunter is something of a climber too, and well versed in the techniques of climbing and mountaineering. That knowledge adds depth to the story as he is able to give detailed descriptions of the climbs and jumps that he observed, and of his own attempts to follow Osman on some of the rock-climbing and ice-climbing adventures. Not being a climber myself I did not understand much of the technical descriptions but they did not overwhelm the story.
Talking about people who don’t face fear the way he does, Osman says “I strongly admire that quality in people, those people who are secure in themselves enough to say, ‘You’re not getting me out there. I’m fine right here.’” (p. 130). Another climber is described as being well respected because he was not afraid to back down the mountain if conditions were not safe.
As Todhunter makes an assortment of visits to Osman, his wife becomes pregnant and gives birth. Todhunter describes the birth, a difficult one in which at one point the baby’s life was in jeopardy and after which the mother’s life was briefly in jeopardy. That experience was numbing to Todhunter so that he didn’t really understand the depth of his fear until hours later, after mother and child were both safe. His best writing describes that experience:
“I have never been hit by an avalanche but in the hospital bed I am struck so fast and hard by such a fear that it feels as if I am going to disintegrate, to rip apart. I clutch the sheet with my hands. Erin is bleeding and I can’t stop it. The blood is running from her. I am drowning. The ceiling is upon my chest and crushing me. My bones are snapping. I am choking, gasping for air.
“I throw myself to the floor, kneel on the tiles, and lean into the seat of the chair. I crush my hands together and grind my forehead, brutally against my clasped hands, I cannot escape. My wife and child are dying and I cannot help.
“The walls stop shaking, suddenly. The roaring is extinguished.
“There is someone else in the room. I can feel the distinct presence of Erin and Julia, alive behind me, as clearly as I can feel my two hands, clasped the one within the other. But there is another, near the foot of the bed behind me, closer to the ceiling than the floor. I do not look. I know exactly where he is… (pp. 163, 164)”
Todhunter does not use the name, but in being overcome by fear, he has met the real Lord.
At the book’s conclusion Todhunter decided he will not join Osman on a high jump from a bridge. He describes that decision as “feeling like loss”, but he realizes he will never face another fear as great as that which he experienced after the birth of his daughter. He writes:
“Throughout a youth spent largely in pursuit of fear, I never for a moment suspected where I would find its source. We all draw lines, spontaneously or after long reflection, and every one that matters is a kind of death. And yet each line is an offering, less a bar of closure than a circle, inscribed to shelter something we love more (p. 209).”
I found this to be a profound book, a book that should be appealing to risk-takers and thinkers of many types.
August 22, 2008
By Andrew Todhunter
Anchor Books, 1998
ISBN 0-385-48641-3
Review by George R. Pasley
The title “Phantom Lord” is a name given by climbers, jumpers and various sorts of extreme sports enthusiasts to the fear of death. Todhunter’s book chronicles a series of visits the author had with Dan Osman, known for the dangerous sports of “free-soloing” (rock climbing without ropes or other safety gear); and "rope jumping" (controlled free-falling) (falling several hundred feet from a cliff then being caught by a safety rope), for which his record was over 1000 feet. Osman died in 1998, shortly after publication of the book, from a fall in Yosemite National Park.
Death of the Phantom Lord occurs when a rope-jumper stands on the edge, confronts his or her fear of death, and leaps. In leaping, fear of death dies, hence, “fall of the Phantom Lord.”
Todhunter intersperses accounts of his visits with Osman with memories of his own risk-taking (Todhunter is a diving instructor and a sailor). The book does not seem to encourage risk-taking, but is instead a guide through the conflict occurring in the author as he wrestles with putting his risk-taking youth behind him in order to take on the responsibilities of marriage and fatherhood.
Todhunter is something of a climber too, and well versed in the techniques of climbing and mountaineering. That knowledge adds depth to the story as he is able to give detailed descriptions of the climbs and jumps that he observed, and of his own attempts to follow Osman on some of the rock-climbing and ice-climbing adventures. Not being a climber myself I did not understand much of the technical descriptions but they did not overwhelm the story.
Talking about people who don’t face fear the way he does, Osman says “I strongly admire that quality in people, those people who are secure in themselves enough to say, ‘You’re not getting me out there. I’m fine right here.’” (p. 130). Another climber is described as being well respected because he was not afraid to back down the mountain if conditions were not safe.
As Todhunter makes an assortment of visits to Osman, his wife becomes pregnant and gives birth. Todhunter describes the birth, a difficult one in which at one point the baby’s life was in jeopardy and after which the mother’s life was briefly in jeopardy. That experience was numbing to Todhunter so that he didn’t really understand the depth of his fear until hours later, after mother and child were both safe. His best writing describes that experience:
“I have never been hit by an avalanche but in the hospital bed I am struck so fast and hard by such a fear that it feels as if I am going to disintegrate, to rip apart. I clutch the sheet with my hands. Erin is bleeding and I can’t stop it. The blood is running from her. I am drowning. The ceiling is upon my chest and crushing me. My bones are snapping. I am choking, gasping for air.
“I throw myself to the floor, kneel on the tiles, and lean into the seat of the chair. I crush my hands together and grind my forehead, brutally against my clasped hands, I cannot escape. My wife and child are dying and I cannot help.
“The walls stop shaking, suddenly. The roaring is extinguished.
“There is someone else in the room. I can feel the distinct presence of Erin and Julia, alive behind me, as clearly as I can feel my two hands, clasped the one within the other. But there is another, near the foot of the bed behind me, closer to the ceiling than the floor. I do not look. I know exactly where he is… (pp. 163, 164)”
Todhunter does not use the name, but in being overcome by fear, he has met the real Lord.
At the book’s conclusion Todhunter decided he will not join Osman on a high jump from a bridge. He describes that decision as “feeling like loss”, but he realizes he will never face another fear as great as that which he experienced after the birth of his daughter. He writes:
“Throughout a youth spent largely in pursuit of fear, I never for a moment suspected where I would find its source. We all draw lines, spontaneously or after long reflection, and every one that matters is a kind of death. And yet each line is an offering, less a bar of closure than a circle, inscribed to shelter something we love more (p. 209).”
I found this to be a profound book, a book that should be appealing to risk-takers and thinkers of many types.
August 22, 2008
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