Home

  • If They’re Going to Make it the Gulf of America…

    Trump’s “proposal” to rename the Gulf of Mexico the “Gulf of America” brings to mind many things. One of them is this chart, put out by our government in 1967, showing it as the “Gulf of Mexico” (which would be altered on things issued by the U.S. government if this came to pass):

    This was issued in the era when the Gulf was the centre of my family business’ offshore oil activities, which is yet another issue (and really a more important one) that Donald Trump will have to deal with.

    But let’s consider something else: the Gulf itself, which is a mediterranean (small m) type of sea. This has been understood for a long time and was discussed by Amadeus Grabau in his Principles of Stratigraphy, first published in 1913:

    The land-locked mediterraneans are the most typical of this kind, and by some they are regarded as the only true mediterraneans. Examples of these are the Roman mediterranean (the Mediterranean of geographers; in reality, a double one, the western descending to 3,151 meters off the coast of Sardinia, and the eastern to 4,404 meters south of Greece) ; the Black Sea, an extreme type with a maximum depression of 2,244 meters ; the Red Sea, 2,271 meters ; and the Mexican mediterranean, or Gulf of Mexico, 3,809 meters.

    Since we have our own mediterranean sea and plan to rename it for ourselves, it is only fitting that ours should have something that has made That Other One famous: rivieras. Over there we have the French Riviera, the Italian Riviera, etc.. It is therefore important that we officially designate the area between Mobile and Pensacola as the Redneck Riviera.

    A few years back a friend from northern Louisiana went over there on vacation, and took exception to me referring to the area as the Redneck Riviera…until she actually went there, after which she said, “It is the Redneck Riviera.”

    I rest my case.

  • Book Review: Iain Murray’s Evangelicalism Divided: A Record of Crucial Change in the Years 1950-2000

    It’s a new year, and for the Church of England it’s time to find a new Archbishop of Canterbury after the disastrous reign of Justin Welby. When Welby was enthroned, there was a great deal of enthusiasm about him. He’s an evangelical, they said; he can fix the problems of heterodoxy that plague the Church of England. Personally I never had much confidence in this; I could not see the UK government of the Equalities Act select a truly orthodox Archbishop, and don’t expect one this time around either. Beyond that evangelicalism in the Church of England had already “sold the pass,” and much of that process in the UK—and the US for that matter—is documented in Iain Murray’s Evangelicalism Divided: A Record of Crucial Change in the Years 1950-2000.

    It’s a well written and documented account of how a movement with so much rectitude going for it could go off the rails the way it did. Murray writes from a Reformed perspective; like many Reformed people, he works under the assumption that the only way to achieve a truly Biblical state in the church is through Reformed theology. He undermines his own case as the book goes along, as we will see.

    Evangelicalism in the Church of England after World War II was a relatively small and homogeneous group with little support from or representation in the upper reaches of the hierarchy, a long way down from the days of J.C. Ryle and others. The idea of a truly evangelical group in any “nominal” church is one that Americans tend to greet with “rofl” but it was there. How it was dislodged from that happy if isolated state is due to forces that, in no small measure, came from this side of the Atlantic.

    Getting past his initial (and deserved) swipe at the Germans (and especially Schleiermacher) he starts with the rise of Billy Graham and especially his first London crusade in 1954. Graham’s apparent broad based success, coupled with his outreach to non-evangelical churches and especially non-evangelical elements in the Church of England (including Archbishop of Canterbury Geoffrey Fisher,) was both thrilling to British evangelicals of the time but left others like Martyn Lloyd-Jones flat. Murray doesn’t evidence any awareness of the fact that Billy Graham, Southern Baptist that he was, had taken the peculiarly Baptistic combination of Arminian election with Calvinistic perseverance to its logical conclusion. Many of those who came forward ended up in liberal or Anglo-Catholic (yes, the “unEnglish and unmanly” are back to confuse the issue again) churches, but in such a theological framework once they made the decision it really didn’t matter what happened next.

    Coupled with Graham’s impact on British Christian life were several forces at work on both sides of the Atlantic that weakened the evangelical witness.

    The first was the desire for academic respectability and success. His special focus is on Fuller Theological Seminary, but he documents the broad effect of the accreditation system on what the seminaries taught and the people who taught there. The introduction of the German PhD system (unsuited for non-science disciplines to start with) shifted the faculty composition from those with pastoral experience to professional academics schooled in German higher criticism, something that had already taken its toll in the Anglican/Episcopal world.

    The second was the ecumenical movement, with its forced contact with non-evangelical people and especially Roman Catholics (more about that later.) The ecumenical movement forced evangelicals to put institutional unity ahead of doctrinal assent, which went against the whole concept of church that evangelicals—and even the Church of England in the Thirty-Nine Articles, which it dumped in 1975—had held.

    The third—and the one that tied the rest together—was the general push for respectability in evangelical circles. That drove many of Billy Graham’s associations, including the celebrated ones with U.S. Presidents, some of which backfired. Such results should have alerted the Pentecostal and Charismatic people to the perils of such associations, but they have not.

    There are three events in the life of the Church of England which Murray points to as crucial in the transition of evangelicals from a Biblical group to a more “comprehensive”—and less Biblical—one.

    The first two were the evangelical conference at Keele in 1967 and the one at Nottingham ten years after. In these conferences evangelicals shifted to a more open view of themselves and Christianity. There were warnings at the time of where this was going—and the drifting apart between Lloyd-Jones and J.I. Packer is during this period—but these went unheeded.

    The third was the evangelicals’ role in torpedoing the union of the Church of England with the Methodist church in 1971. The evangelicals felt that the Methodists were too liberal and would shift the church to the left, so they made common cause with the Anglo-Catholics and got it voted down. This is a strong evidence of an attitude that was becoming common amongst Evangelicals in that time that liberalism, instead of Roman Catholicism, was the real enemy of true Christianity.

    This leads us to the topic of the Catholic Church. Murray, like Bossuet in his exposition of the variations in the Protestant churches, is selective in his choice of topics, devoting most of the chapter to the subject of the Evangelicals and Catholics Together document. A little history before that would have strengthened Murray’s case that the document wasn’t a good thing, and a brief recapitulation of that would be helpful.

    It is difficult for Protestants to understand the “wild west” feel of the Catholic Church in the years following Vatican II and during the pontificate of Paul VI. Murray criticises evangelicals for confusing their own concept of becoming a Christian against the Roman Catholic one; what he doesn’t realise is that there was a broad spectrum of Roman Catholics who were having doubts about their own system. That opened up Catholics to things like the Charismatic Renewal, which gave parts of the church a decidedly “evangelical” feel to them. The accession of Pope John Paul II in 1978 signalled a reversion to the “old ways” (which Murray is well familiar with) and the brutal assimilation of groups and people which followed. That led many of us to take our leave, which illustrates something that Murray and other evangelicals frequently don’t get: the best way to get Roman Catholics out of the church isn’t to tell them to leave, but to get them to a direct encounter with the Lord Jesus Christ, and then they’ll “figure it out.”

    By the time of Evangelicals and Catholics Together, the die was pretty much cast. Had the document stuck with social and political issues, it could have been valuable. By trying to make into a blueprint for ecumenical “progress,” evangelicals discovered what Murray points out (but not in this way,) namely that the Catholic position on unity was the same as U.S. Grant’s to Simon Bolivar Buckner—no terms but unconditional surrender.

    Murray doesn’t say much about the Charismatic Renewal and its effect on evangelicalism. He is certainly a cessationist and, although like D. James Kennedy he knows that salvation is more than intellectual assent, he is loathe to see that our encounter with Jesus Christ is both experiential and Biblical, with the latter informing the former. He is silent on the role (if any) of classical Pentecostal churches, which had their own reservations about the Renewal.

    So what’s the solution? With all of his Reformed sensibilities and his dislike of “come-out-ism,” he appeals first to the revivals of George Whitfield and John Wesley, which is odd since a) Wesley was more Arminian in his view and b) the Methodist church ended up coming out of the Church of England, in spite of Wesley’s efforts to prevent that event (in England; his approach in the new United States was different.) He’s basically right, and Pentecostal churches—heirs of Wesley—would do well to continue in that path.

    The years following the time that Murray documents have seen the sexualisation of the divide between liberal and non-liberal, which have in turn exposed the weaknesses of a movement which Murray documents. The rise of a Justin Welby in the wake of those weaknesses should be seen as inevitable, even if the government had been more conservative. They’ve also had their share of “come-out-ism” (the ACNA is the best evidence of this) and the shift towards the left of the Roman Catholic Church, one facilitated by the uncertain sound from the current Occupant. Perhaps this will be clear sign that Roman Catholicism isn’t the safe haven that some evangelicals thought it was. In any case, although a quarter century has passed since the end of the period the book covers, Iain Murray’s Evangelicalism Divided: A Record of Crucial Change in the Years 1950-2000 is still a valuable resource for a period whose legacy is only now beginning to be understood.

  • Remembering Jimmy Carter

    Ever since his passing on Sunday, the media has lionised–and social media denigrated–Jimmy Carter. One statement in Al Mohler’s piece on Carter caught my attention:

    Time does seem to mellow powerful memories—even powerful political memories. That is especially true when most Americans alive today were not yet born when Carter left the White House, overwhelmingly rejected by voters in the 1980 presidential election.

    I frequently find myself the “old guy” on social media, especially when dealing with issues in the Anglican/Episcopal world when people say “this is the way it’s always been done” and my response is “no, it wasn’t.” I’m going to try to put into concise form what it was like to live through his administration and the era is general.

    When he was inaugurated I was starting my first job out of Texas A&M working for Texas Instruments on the HARM (AGM-88A) missile project. One of the first impacts of his accession was a “hold” on the project. It wasn’t cancelled but some people lost their jobs while the new administration figured out whether they wanted this weapon–which was to replace ones like it used in Vietnam–or not. It was ultimately finished, but it strung out the development of a useful piece of ordnance which was, thanks in part to the military’s ponderous acquisition process, too long to start with. He had his detractors amongst the team working on the project. One put in his cubicle one of those plastic peanut models with Carter’s grinning teeth at the top. He was told to take it down, but the model probably came from his campaign!

    The following year I moved on to the family business. If there was a group of business people that benefited from the economic chaos of the Carter years, it was those of us in the oil industry. Between the embargoes and other supply issues that plagued the energy industry, elevated prices were a spark for exploration and development, and Vulcan certainly benefited from the latter. It was a wild ride, with supply issues, inflation and an industrial base unprepared to respond at the speed the industry liked. (Unlike the grenade that the COVID inflation chucked into everyone’s foxhole, inflation had plagued the U.S. throughout the 1970’s, and the wage system was better prepared to compensate for it.) Carter’s normalisation of relations with the People’s Republic of China facilitated our own foray into business with the PRC, but by then he was gone from the White House.

    I spent most of the Carter years as a member of the First Baptist Church of Chattanooga. By the time I moved here I had been through one unsuccessful process of joining a covenant community, which (coupled with an uninspiring parish in Richardson) convinced me that I needed a church which had a better life at the local church level, and Baptist churches promise that. That promise was not delivered on, not for me at least. Although FBC was progressive with its singles’ ministry, Baptist churches like it at the time were conformity- and respectability-obsessed institutions whose theology of perseverance underpinned a fault-intolerant style of mind. The conservative revolt–one which ultimately inspired Carter to leave the Southern Baptist Convention–went against the “get with the program” mentality but was ultimately successful. I was not.

    Mohler reminds us that the voters turned Carter out in 1980. With all the adulation he gets now, it’s easy to wonder why the voters at the time–who had for the most part experienced his time in office–would do such a thing. That’s a simple question to answer, for me at least. 1980 was the first election I ever voted in, and I voted for Ronald Reagan. I think many of us at time, regaled by the economic chaos and the disgraceful hostage situation in Tehran, decided the country wasn’t going to make it through another Carter term. (His pulling the rug out from under the Shah and allowing the Ayatollah Khomeini to take power has been an expensive foreign policy mistake we’re still paying for.) It may have been the first election I had to make that decision, but unfortunately it’s not been the last.

    Since that debacle–for Carter at least–his reputation has been restored through his humanitarian work. Ever since prep school humanitarian work has been set forth before me as the way Christians should express their love of neighbour, followed by social activism. While humanitarian work is important, ultimately someone who turns to politics must take a different path to make a country great both for its place in the world and its people. In spite of his early successes such as the Camp David accord (which was the “low hanging fruit” in the Arab-Israeli conflict) Carter basically failed in that mission.

    Evangelicals for the most part have been busy disowning Jimmy Carter and pursuing their own agenda to “bring America back to God.” Today they are content (well, most of them) with being clients to their patron Donald Trump. While I’m sure the partisan hacks have their opinion of the matter, I think that evangelicalism is by nature unsuited to the task of taking political power and exercising it in a meaningful way. Carter was the first evangelical since World War II to find this out the hard way, but those who thought they could do better have not.

  • Book Review: We Believe: An Exposition of the Church of God Declaration of Faith

    Thanks to recent events, the whole business of the Church of God Declaration of Faith has become more important. Those of us who teach at Church of God institutions such as Lee University—even when that teaching isn’t theological in nature—are required to avoid teaching that which is contrary to the Declaration of Faith. Our ministers are required to periodically reassert their fidelity to the Declaration. This has essentially made the Declaration a fixed document; that fixture is something that is relatively new to our church.

    That being the case, a group of professors at our church’s Pentecostal Theological Seminary have put together an article-by-article commentary entitled We Believe: An Exposition of the Church of God Declaration of Faith. They have done so in a very readable (not always academics’ strong suit) form. When I refer to “the author” or “the authors” in my own article-by-article commentary on the book (which appears below,) I am referring to the author of the specific commentary on the specific article.

    With all that, my thoughts on the book are as follows:

    • The book’s first chapter is a reflection on the opening statement of the “Declaration of Faith”: We believe. The author takes an approach that echoes the justification for changing the original English translation of the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds in the Novus Ordo Missae from “I believe” to “We believe.” He emphasises the communal nature of belief, which should put paid to the endless whining that churches like the Church of God overemphasise the individual and his or her faith. (The Novus Ordo Missae, formulated in Latin, never changed from the singular, but the translation reverted to the original in the last decade. The 1979 BCP does in one way in one place and another way in another.)
    • The section on the Scriptures (Article I) puts the Scriptures on the high, inspired plane that they in fact hold. The Scriptures are not an artifact from the past but a powerful, present reality. Any revelation of the Spirit that comes must not contradict the Scriptures, which curtails extremes from both left and right. One interesting thing is that, since the Septuagint was quoted in the New Testament, the author states the “Paul would consider translations to be infused with the Spirit just like the original Hebrew or Greek,” which is a bold statement for someone outside of Eastern Orthodoxy. Another very interesting point is that he manages to get through the whole thing without getting into the issue of inerrancy; his position is that the veracity of the Scriptures is guaranteed by their inspiration.
    • Turning to the Trinity (Article II,) the treatment of this difficult subject draws on some basic theology that many today across the spectrum would like to discard. I think, however, that the time has come to re-examine the whole issue of subordinationism, something I do at length in My Lord and My God: A Layman Looks at the Deity of Christ and the Nature of the Godhead. This is especially true in view of the rise of “functional subordinationism,” which I deal with (and is mentioned more than once in the book) in my piece Why Sydney Anglican Subordinationism is Lame.
    • On Jesus Christ (Article III) the section starts with the following: “The heart of our faith is not a set of doctrinal statements. The heart of what we believe is a person.” The author also delivers a strong, non-Catholic pushback against a purely judicial view of the atonement, based on the Wesleyan roots of modern Pentecost. He is also uneasy with the Apostles’ Creeds statement “suffered under Pontius Pilate” because it detracts from the reality that all of us shared in the crucifixion of Our Lord.
    • With Sin and Repentance (Article IV) we have as straightforward of a presentation on the topic as one could want. It is in some way reminiscent of the gospel presentations that we taught at Church of God Lay Ministries, and uses not only those Scripture verses but also those of the Comfortable Words in the Holy Communion, which additionally speak of the need of repentance after initial conversion.
    • It makes sense that a discussion on justification, regeneration and the new birth (Article V) would pick up on the previous two articles. Here the author deals with two topics which Church of God ministers and laity deal with on a routine basis: the idea of unconditional perseverance (even when coupled with an Arminian view of justification) and the relationship between justification and regeneration, where the author uses adoption as a way of relating the two.
    • The discussion on sanctification (Article VI) is a much needed clarification on two topics poorly understood by advocates and opponents alike of the whole concept of sanctification after salvation: what “perfection” really means in a Wesleyan context, and whether sanctification is an event or a process (the author posits that it has elements of both.)
    • Turning to the related topic of holiness (Article VII,) this section does something that doesn’t happen very often in the Church of God, at least in this country: it avoids an extended discussion of the legalistic way in which the whole concept has been historically applied. Instead he equates holiness to a way of life which is in stark contrast to much of which passes for Christian behaviour.
    • I discuss the topics of the Baptism in the Holy Spirit (Article VIII) and speaking in tongues (Article IX) in my work Born to be Alive: A Pentecostal Layman Looks at the Second Chapter of Acts. I think that the case for modern Pentecost would be strengthened—and given better historical continuity—if Pentecostal authors would make a stronger connection between the Baptism in the Holy Spirit and supernatural gifts and manifestations in general. The history of the church shows that you can have supernatural manifestations without the Baptism in the Holy Spirit, but once you have the Baptism in the Holy Spirit you will have supernatural manifestations. This is necessary in light of a lot of the radical cessationism that passes for “orthodoxy” these days.
    • Concerning baptism (Article X) the author goes into a very detailed Biblical explanation of the subject that leans toward a more ordinance view of the subject (as opposed to a sacramental one.) He also gives a rationale for believers’ baptism, which I cover in my post Why I Support the Idea of Believers’ Baptism.
    • The authors of the section on divine healing in the atonement (Article XI) waited until the very last to state that we—all of us—are anointed to pray for healing. If there is one thing that needs to be underlined in the Charismatic-Pentecostal world, it’s that “the anointing” is not restricted to just a few. As Bossuet pointed out, if we are Christians, and Christ means “the anointed one” we are anointed.
    • The subjects of the Lord’s Supper and foot washing (Article XII) receive good, detailed Biblical treatment, which is a hallmark of the book in general. But, as is the case with baptism, the whole distinction between sacrament and ordinance isn’t really explained, a confusion compounded by the editor’s note at the end of the section and evidently one that goes back to the beginnings of the church. Sooner or later our church is going need to determine which we are doing, especially as it relates to the Lord’s Supper and our general adoption of Bill Clinton’s Eucharistic Theology–It Depends on What ‘Is’ Is.
    • It is no surprise that our church takes a premillennial view of the Second Coming of Christ (Article XIII.) Going past that, the author takes the opportunity to include advocacy for a pretribulational view of the Rapture. As the editor’s note at the end points out, it is not necessary to be “pretrib” in order to be in conformity with the Declaration of Faith, something that Dr. F.J. May, a seminary colleague of several of the authors of the book, pointed out many years ago.
    • It always amazes me that, in a culture as secular as ours has become, that so many glibly express the hope that someone they don’t like should “burn in Hell.” But the article on the last things (Article XIV) gives a Biblical view to push back against both the vindictiveness of our day and the sappy universalism that has plagued Christian churches in the past and still does today. It serves as a suitable wrap for the book, as this article does for the Declaration of Faith.

    We Believe: An Exposition of the Church of God Declaration of Faith is a very nice treatment of a topic that has become important in the life of our church. One thing that would have been nice to include brief bios of all of the contributors, something that would have been useful to the reader and uplifting to the academics. The viewpoint diversity of the various authors—while not without risk for the whole enterprise—helps to make the book reflective of the fact that our church is not a monolith but a gathering of believers, each with his or her own gifts.

  • The Lone Star State is soaring — Unherd

    The United States is a misnomer. Despite its title, our republic has rarely been united, instead hosting an endless gladiatorial contest between different states and regions. 1,853 more words

    The Lone Star State is soaring
  • Why normies idolise Luigi Mangione — Unherd

    Imagine if Luigi Mangione had shot the CEO of a company that made light bulbs, or dishwashers, or breakfast cereal. Perhaps a few ideologues on Twitter would have hailed the killing as a justified strike against the one percent. 1,171 more words

    Why normies idolise Luigi Mangione
  • Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending – Second Sunday in Advent — North American Anglican

    This was an old favourite of mine back at Bethesda, but was lost from my worship from “swimming the Tiber” onwards. The last loss was due to the perfidious influence of the Baptists, as I discuss (complete with YouTube video) in my post The Wesleyan Advent Hymn the Wesleyan Pentecostals Don’t Sing. It’s ironic that Bethesda, for all of the magnificence of this hymn, wasn’t much on talking about the second coming (outside of reciting it in the creeds, which Episcopalians were notorious for ignoring.) Life was just too good and our position in society too nice to see it overturned by something as drastic as Christ’s return.

    On the other hand the church I’m in now spends quite a lot of time–too much, in some cases–on the subject. I say “too much” because each generation becomes fixated on the prophetic clock, produces a timetable and loses the plot on why we emphasise the subject, i.e. to prepare ourselves to spend eternity with Jesus Christ and to do the work he has for us to do while we’re here. The most famous example of that was The Late Great Planet Earth, whose author Hal Lindsey just went to meet God. The only and only time a professor made an overtly evangelistic appeal in my undergraduate years at Texas A&M took place when my Statics teacher (ironically that’s what I teach at Lee University) warned us of his impending return and encouraged us to read Lindsey’s book.

  • What next for Syria? — Unherd

    It was the clock tower that settled it. The images of rebels driving around the central square of Homs, its famous clocktower visible, confirmed they had taken the city. 1,306 more words

    What next for Syria?
  • Trump’s Greatest Slight of Hand

    The “ruling” (well, sort of, and less so by the day) political class is still in shock over Donald Trump’s victory last month. How did he do it? What can we (if we hate him) do to reverse it sooner or later? What can we (if we love him) do to sustain this victory? (That question is being asked less; as is the case in men’s ministry, it’s easier to run an event-based movement than one that’s sustainable over the long haul.)

    Personally I think I have the answer to the question as to why it happened. Donald Trump managed to turn his campaign into a class-based revolt without making it obvious. His supporters are the descamisados of our day. They lost their shirts in the post-COVID inflation without a compensating cost of living increase in income, and they didn’t forget it (or better were reminded of it every time they took out their wallet, physical or digital.)

    Pulling this off in an American culture was deemed impossible. Americans (both native born and immigrants) are drilled from the crib that they are the masters of their own economic destiny, that, if they aren’t moving up in life, it’s their fault. Thus to admit that they’re any kind of “lower” or even “working” class is an admission that they’re a moron, and no one likes to admit that they’re a moron.

    That to a large degree has inoculated the American electorate from real Marxism, which is based in the class struggle and the economics of surplus value that go with it. Faced with this reality, the American elite left (whose real interest in the welfare of working class people is limited at best) decided to end run this attitude with an oppressor/oppressed dialectic based on anything but class: race, and their favourite dividing line, sex and gender. Coupled with their concepts of intersectionality (where wrecks happen) and DEI, they thought that, with the importation of non-white immigrants, they could flood the country with people who would keep them in power indefinitely.

    It didn’t work.

    To start with, bringing in 10 million people in a short period was guaranteed, by simple supply and demand, to run up housing prices. Couple that with the fact that, in the wake of COVID, everyone decided to move, you have another highly inflationary event, one that a)is at the core of most Americans’ economic aspirations and b)falls especially hard on younger people, the group that the Democrats though they had in their back pocket.

    Second, anyone in labour relations knows that, if you want to break a union, you bring in “scab” labour from somewhere else and replace the organised workers. In a sense the people who came here legally–whether that was at Jamestown or in citizenship ceremonies in the last year–form a sort of union, and they didn’t like the scab labour. This accounts for the dramatic shifts among non-white groups of all kinds. The problems with that importation were compounded by the fact that many of the newly arrived were criminals where they came from, and this country never wanted criminals even before World War I when immigration was very open.

    Coupled with a weak candidate who was promoted on a DEI basis and you have the disaster that they experienced last month.

    From what I’m hearing the Democrats are still in denial about their predicament. They’re still trotting out the old race and gender based stuff, not realising they’re up against stronger headwinds in the form of class and economics. The Democrat party has lost the working class and their elite leadership is incapable of connecting with it except through an “upstairs/downstairs” political system driven by welfare payments, and that is not sustainable for a variety of reasons.

    The Republicans have challenges here also, and big ones. How do we hold together this unprecedented coalition we have? How do we continue to be the party of opportunity while representing the working class against a gentry elite? How do we make the dialectic about class stick when such has traditionally been against the grain in American life?

    It reminds me of something that happened to the last Dean of the college where I teach:

    One of the more amusing moments I’ve had here at UTC has been the visit of the new Dean of the College of Engineering and Computer Science, Dr. Daniel Pack, to the SimCentre, where I just finished my PhD.  He wanted to meet with the students; it’s been a rough road for the program, and he wanted to “cast a vision” for the future.  Towards the end of his talk, he threw out the old B-school meme that, in Chinese, the character for “opportunity” is contained in the character for “crisis.”

    However, as is the case with most gatherings of engineering students (and faculty) these days, the Chinese are well represented.  Once he said that he paused in puzzlement for a second, looked at the Chinese and asked, “Is that really true?”  The Chinese, after looking at each other, confirmed that it was true.  Needless to say, the Dean sighed with relief.

  • Elevations on the coming of St. John the Baptist, Forerunner of Jesus Christ: 6, On Zechariah’s Incredulity

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started