Luther: ultimacy of divinity

Let us not lose the Bible, but with diligence, in fear and invocation of God, read and preach it. While hat remains and flourishes, all prospers with the state; 'tis head and empress of all arts and faculties. Let but divinity fall, and I would not give a straw for the rest.

Tabletalk, Of God's Word, 6

Luther: strength from Scripture

When I find myself assailed by temptation, I forthwith lay hold of some text of the Bible, which Jesus extends to me; as this: that he died for me, whence I derive infinite hope.

Tabletalk, Of God's Word, point 4

Choosing where to act

There is an interesting interview with Dean Jones (the man who appeared in all those Disney films when I was a kid) at Christianity Today. Here's just one quote I liked (real arty types can take issue with this if they like, I don't mind) - on the criteria he uses in picking a film in which to appear:

How does your faith come into play when considering a script?

Jones: First of all, I won't blaspheme God. This immediately eliminates most scripts, but I see no reason, since I need all the help I can get, to encourage God to vacate the premises.

Herbert: Joseph's Coat

As usual, I had to read this a few times before it changed from confusing to touching (and I had to look up 'indite' in the dictionary). But then I saw it captures how God takes our suffering and changes it, does something with it:

Wounded I sing, tormented I indite,
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest:
Sorrow hath chang’d its note: such is his will,
Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best.
     For well he knows, if but one grief and smart
Among my many had his full career,
Sure it would carry with it ev’n my heart,
And both would runn untill they found a bier
     To fetch the body; both being due to grief.
But he hath spoil’d the race; and giv’n to anguish
One of Joy's coats, 'ticing it with relief
To linger in me, and together languish.
     I live to show his power, who once did bring
     My joys to weep, and now my griefs to sing.

#9 Hamlet

That's right, I'm feeling inadequate because of Minternational's quantity of prizewinning books, so I'm pulling rank - Shakespeare! Kudos! Unless you have Homer on your list, I win!

I sometimes wonder why literature is taught to young teenagers, or at least why it is taught without context and preparation. Shakespeare was fairly unintelligible to me and to most of my colleagues; picking Macbeth because "it has lots of blood in it, and I know that will appeal to you" was not, in retrospect, the best way for our teacher to get us into the bard.

However, during my later years at school, and taking lit. at A level, I had to write an extended essay and I needed a unique theme. I chose Mental Decay in Shakespeare; if you know me, you may know why. And with my context for this theme, King Lear started to have some relevance, Macbeth started to make sense. But Hamlet stood out.

I'm not overly sure about taking it to a desert island, given its lack of cheer (although it does have that glimmer of the light of the dawn of hope at the very end). And I'm not someone who relishes all of his work by any means (I think many of the comedies are, far from works of genius, in fact proto-Carry On films, with lots of innuendo and rude jokes; I'm surprised no one shouts "Oooh Matron!"). But for me Hamlet is a practically seamless work of splendour, with the unfolding mystery, the moral dilemmas worked out in tortured but glowing lyricism, and the brooding atmosphere with a sense of timelessness, yet knowing time is ticking away to some kind of showdown. And I love the castle as the stage: it's a silent presence - not like Gormenghast, vast and terrifying in its labyrinth; but as a self-contained world which shows up the characters and story.

Anyway, it's pretty good. And actually, I quite liked Mel Gibson in the role, as improbable as that sounds. Aside from his death scene which would make Ernie Wise jealous, it was great to have a manly Hamlet for a change, and not someone flouncing about in tights. Lots of stuff was missing, but he spun that sword with verve.

#10 Out of the Silent Planet

At some point CS Lewis was bound to appear.

This is one of the firs SF books I read, and maybe one of the first Christian books, as there's a good deal of theology in it too. It's the first of three books featuring professor Ransom (whom, I think, bears some similarities to Tolkien).

On a hike in the English countryside he finds himself a victim of, effectively, a cosmic satanic plot. Drugged, kidnapped and placed on a space-ship he is propelled to Mars - a planet of entirely different creatures ans spiritual forces, and not effected as Earth by the ravages of the Fall.

I got caught up in Lewis' precise and easy prose from page one, and can remember being spellbound to the end, as a teenager, through the exploration of an alien world, and the weaving of the plot around effectively theological ideas.

Wearing suffering

Some days—but not most days, thanks to the manner of Jesus' life and death. Imagine Barack Obama putting on a bad suit or Angelina Jolie wearing an ugly dress. The suit wouldn't look bad, and that dress wouldn't be ugly. These are incredibly attractive people whose attractiveness spills over onto their clothing, changing its meaning and the way other people respond to it. If Obama or Jolie wear it, it's a good-looking outfit. If they wear it often enough, it becomes a good-looking outfit even when you or I wear it. God's Son did something similar by taking physical pain on his divine yet still-human person. He did not render pain itself beautiful. But his suffering made the enterprise of living with pain and illness larger and better than it had been before. He elevates all he touches. Just as his years of carpentry in Joseph's shop lend dignity and value to all honest work, so too the pain he bore lends dignity and value to every pain-filled day human beings live.

William J Stuntz (the article briefly lists his piercing sufferings, so we know the above is not abstract)
Christianity Today