This week I’m starting a series of four Weekend Wisdom posts from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s The Divine Milieu. It takes a bit of effort to read, but the reward is worth the mental sweat.
Here’s one of his trademark ideas:
By virtue of the Creation and, still more, of the Incarnation, nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see.
I enjoyed every minute of Chwast’s take on Dante’s Divine Comedy. He managed to adapt and distill a masterpiece without exploiting or dumbing it down.
At 128 pages, this whirlwind tour that takes you through a Canto or two per page. Even so, the drama doesn’t feel rushed. In fact, if you’re planning on reading the original it would be worthwhile to leave this volume open beside it to keep you grounded in the flow of the narrative.
There were many opportunities for a graphic artist to exploit the imagery. I mean, where else do you read about people swimming in pools of excrement as poop rains down from the sky? Chwast’s economic style fairly evoked the imagery without degenerating into crassness. (I can only imagine what would have happened if Crumb tried to do this!)
This was my first encounter with Seymour Chwast’s art. It will not be my last.
Disclaimer: A review copy of this book was provided at no cost through LibraryThing’s Early Reviewer’s program.
After hearing this, I just had to pass it on. Man, this group’s tight. Blow it up full screen HD and crank your speakers!
I’m no philosopher, but I love these “Introducing . . .” or “. . . for Beginners” books. They’re full of drawings that help you remember the key points of a person’s philosophy without needing a degree to get started.
Sarte, as most of you already know if you’re looking this up, was a French existentialist who protested the French occupation of Algeria and believed socialism was the answer to the oppression of the working class. He believed strongly in human freedom, but not in a positive way. Humans are free because they are always one step removed from experiences—they always have a choice in their response to circumstance. Sarte believed that humans always wish they could live the experiences directly, without being one step removed.
If there are any philosophers out there reading this, feel free to correct me. The preceding paragraph is merely my summary of a beginner’s book on a brilliant thinker. For those looking for an introduction to his life and works, this book will get you thinking.
Here’s the words of a man at the end of his rope (in The Cocktail Party):
I have had quite enough humiliation
Lately, to bring me to the point
At which humiliation ceases to humiliate.
You get to the point at which you cease to feel
And then you speak your mind.
Now that we’re through that monster chapter on “justification” (the foci of the new perspective), let’s move in a more mystical direction: en Christō.
. . .
Few people have had the impact on popular biblical studies that Stott has. Over the decades, he’s written more than 50 books. This commentary on two of the Pastoral Epistles shows us why he has such staying power.
I’ve never read anyone else with such an analytical mind. Stott’s the master of transforming a paragraph of prose into “6 points on ___”, or “5 reasons to ___”. I know the narrative degenerates when it’s reduced to bullet points, but those points are sure helpful when you’re teaching on a given text. Stott also roots out the meaning of the Greek behind the English, often quoting from BAGD.
Stott’s approach to the text is thoroughly modernist, which I struggle with at times, but his insights are still valuable.
Occasionally you find something profound in the most unlikely place. While reading Wyndham’s The Outward Urge, one of his characters explains why there’s no peace in the world with poignant accuracy:
We are here because the quintessential quality of our age is that of dreams coming true. Just think of it. For centuries we have dreamt of flying; recently we made that come true: we have always hankered for speed; now we have speeds greater than we can stand: we wanted to speak to far parts of the Earth; we can: we wanted to explore the sea bottom; we have: and so on, and so on: and, too, we wanted the power to smash our enemies utterly; we have it. If we had truly wanted peace, we should have had that as well. But true peace has never been one of the genuine dreams – we have got little further than preaching against war in order to appease our consciences.
The Millennium Trilogy was quite a phenomenon. It’s difficult to find anyone who hasn’t at least heard of Larsson’s books. This third and final book was a bit of a departure from the first two, but no less thrilling.
Unlike the first two books, there was a lot less physical action. Normally, that would make for a boring read, but not here. Courtroom intrigue, aggressive journalism, and police work keeps your mind engaged. To be honest, I read the 566 pages in two days.
My only quibble is a poorly related side-mystery that I won’t give away. It was interesting, but didn’t really relate to the rest of the book.
It’s a shame Larsson’s not around to continue writing. The books he left us with are utterly captivating mystery novels with an international flair.
Here’s Snodgrass (Stories With Intent) on the parable of the lost coin:
Grace creates room, whether it is God’s creating room for us or our creating room for people who think that they do not belong. The kingdom comes with limitless grace—God diligently searching for his people—and with limitless demand—the expectation that God’s grace will be replicated in the lives of his people.