Monday 27 November 2017

Post 194--Meditation by Labyrinth



Like most other cities on North America's west coast, Vancouver is a chillingly secular city. Nevertheless, we live in its central West End and are quite surrounded by churches that range from outright liberal to  Evangelical that in turn range from the classical to the mushroom variety that meets behind various facades, though nothing like store fronts. They are peopled by highly educated  and relatively well-to-do young people.  One of the more liberal is St. Paul's Anglican just two blocks down the street from us, one that we pass on average twice a week.  

It's an unusual church. For one thing, its over-a-century-old building is designated a heritage building by the city. Its exterior consists of maroon-painted cedar shingles, not a facade still common in the city. It is well maintained with its gracious appearance and, unlike the recently razed  modern United Church just a couple of blocks away, it appears well attended and is under no threat of coming down. Typical of our liberal churches here, it plays an active part in our downtown culture. 

Example:  More than twenty years ago, before we arrived here, our West End was inundated by pimps and prostitutes that so dominated the streets and traffic that the residents complained enough for the city to install all kinds of traffic calmers and other obstacles such as one-way streets, unexpected diversions, dead ends and cul-de-sacs. The police moved in and hassled prostitutes as well as their clients that eventually they moved out of the area to go who knows where, probably the Down Town East Side, known as the country's poorest postal code just a couple of clicks away. Sanity returned and the people were happy.  

Twenty years later, the dominant spiritual and social attitude had changed. Forces within the community instilled a sense of guilt for driving away that trade. Its practitioners were now seen as victims of circumstances not of their choosing and they should have been protected, not driven out. They were no longer regarded as unwanted; the traditionally negative attitude towards prostitution had given way to acceptance. Well, no surprise. Secularism has little in the way of moral standards. 

Last year, 2016, St. Paul's, along with a segment of the local population and reps of the City Council, established a memorial statue right in front of the church, to remember the victims of that "shameful" cleansing of decades ago.  Now that prostitution era was romanticised and its practitioners practically awarded a sort of sainthood!  The atmosphere had done a complete topsy-turvy. Next time you are in the area, you really must come and take some pics, for this is really something to see. Right there in front of a church! I suspect it is the world's first and only memorial to prostitution, unless New York or San Francisco beat us to the honour!

Now years ago I wrote a blog about a hymn-singing prostitute in the south of Nigeria. I showed plenty of sympathy for her terrible situation that led her into that trade. I was fully aware that this was hardly by choice and that she had few other options. In other words, I did not condemn but understood and sympathized. I am as aware of the terrible dynamics as anyone. 

But understanding and sympathizing is one thing, but to elevate the "profession" to hero status or even sainthood is another.  From all the reading I've done on the subject, most practitioners have descended into its horrible depth because of earlier negative choices that inexorably led them into this pit. It was not their destination of choice, but they landed up against a brick wall that would not budge. They had burnt too many bridges behind them and felt they had nowhere else to turn. 

So, what of that memorial in front of St. Paul's?  I sympathize with prostitution's victims and therefore join the community in its sympathy. A case of sympathy on top of sympathy!  But now to turn its practitioners into saints and ignore all the warnings in the Bible against it or to pretend it has no serious social and physical consequences, enough to turn it into a vice, is another. I have no answer really, but this has gone too far. Sin turned into virtue!  The spiritual atmosphere in the community has changed that much--unbelievable. If the trade were to make a come-back in this area, I doubt that the police would have the balls to counter it or, for that matter, the public--until it once again turns into the terrible nuisance it had become. It might be bound to happen.  

Now, you would never expect this subject from the title above this post. I did not either. the main subject was intended to drive me to that subject. Instead, it became the main subject. So, I'll let that title stand but treat that subject in Post 195. That way you won't be turned off by what became today's unexpected main subject!






Sunday 19 November 2017

Post 193--Meet Canada's New Wonder Woman--the Governor General


If you've been following this blog, you may have gotten the impression that I am not exactly a Trudeau fan--and you're right.  However, unlike most people these days who have little respect for him, I do respect him. The Bible teaches us to have respect for those in authority. It's no small thing to be elected Head of State. So, respect, yes, but agreement, very seldom!

Wait a minute!  Head of State? Trudeau? Not so. Canada's real Head of State is the British Queen Elisabeth whose representative right now is a woman, a most remarkable and gifted woman, Her Excellency the Right Honourable Julie Payette. That makes her Canada's Governor General, a position she obtained by appointment from Prime Minister the Right Honourable Justin Trudeau. Yes, Canada's Prime Minister appoints his own boss. Perhaps one day I will be able to see "her boss!"

I disagree most of the time with our Right Honourable, but, apart from a few ceremonial or symbolic gestures, I recall agreeing with him wholeheartedly only twice and both cases were about ladies. The first was probably Trudeau's first public decision: gender balance of the Federal Cabinet.  I was really happy about that; thought the world of that move. Great beginning.  I've always wanted more women in high positions, for we men are just too aggressive, ambitious and political. 

The second decision by Trudeau that has my approval is the appointment of Julie Payette as our Governor General. As to the reason for my approval, I can do no better but to treat you to a brief summary of her accomplishments as written up by our Vancouver Centre Member of Parliament, the Honourable Dr. Hedy Fry in her latest report to her constituency under the title,

                         "To Infinity and Beyond: Meet Canada's New Governor General"

As an individual with an impeccable track record of accomplishments, Ms Payette is well-equpped to represent Canadians in this new role:


  • In 1992, the Canadian Space Agency plucked her out of a field of 5,330 applicants to become one of four new astronauts.
  • She was the second female astronaut and the first Canadian to board the International Space Station.
  • Her Excellency is an accomplished pianist and classical singer who has performed with symphony orchestras from Montreal to Switzerland.
  • Along with being bilingual in English and French, she can converse in Spanish, Italian, Russian and German.
  • Ms. Payette holds 27 honourary doctorates.
  • She is a member of the Canadian Aviation Hall of Fame, an Officer of the Order of Canada, has a NASA's Exceptional Service Medal and a Knight of the Order of Quebec.  


A new coat of arms was unveiled, featuring white wings that symbolize exploration, liberty and safety. The sigma illustrates her belief in the power of science and facts. Lastly, her motto listed "Per Aspera Ad Astra," translated meaning "Though hardship to the stars."

Her Excellency is the fourth woman to take office as Governor General. Main responsibilities will be to ensure Canada has a functioning, stable Parliament, represent Canada at official events and serve as the Commander in Chief to the Canadian Armed Forces.

The only thing I hesitate about is that last position: Commander in Chief to the Armed Forces. As far as I know, Canada not being a nuclear power, there is no button that, when pressed, can unleash a
nuclear war. So, that is not a concern, not as it is in the US with its current White House Resident. But it seems to me that to hold that position, you need to have some sort of experience in the world of armed forces as well as politics. Ms. Payette has neither. And that holds true for most holders of that position, female or male. No doubt, any action she would take as Commander will be decided upon after extensive consultation with the professionals, but still it makes me kind of uncomfortable. I would prefer that position to be held by the Prime Minister, who is usually more savvy in that respect.

In closing, if you have not yet done so, please welcome with me Her Excellency the Right Honourable Julie Payette.

Monday 13 November 2017

Post 192--"Crazy" Roget




This is the story about a man and his book that has been very helpful to me ever since my college years back in the late 1950s. It is about Peter Mark Roget and his book Roget's Thesaurus. I was in Calvin College, Grand Rapids Michigan. The person who gave the book to me was Ben Wisselink, a student in forestry at the University of BC in Vancouver. Unfortunately, Ben contacted a mysterious kind of illness that did him in. He never graduated. 

As to that book being very useful to me over the years, being a writer, I consulted it frequently, whether I studied and wrote in Canada, the USA, Nigeria or The Netherlands. It was always within reach on shelves just above my desk until 2016, when I noticed a used copy of Webster's Thesaurus published in 1988 sitting on the shelf of a thrift store in Vancouver.  Since my faithful Roget's had fallen apart and had frequently been taped up, I decided to buy the Webster and have been using it since, while poor old Roget's was trashed.  

Webster's boasts about itself on its cover, "It is so simple and easy to use that for many it will largely supersede Roget...." That, according to the Wall Street Journal, a newspaper respected by everyone and, therefore, believed. Well, they were right: It is simple to use, but it took me a long time, over a year of frequent use, that I began to appreciate it almost as much as my Roget's. I sort of felt I betrayed two trusted friends when I discarded it. The first to be betrayed was my friend Ben. After all, this was my last remaining memory of him. The second to be betrayed was the Roget's itself. It had served me so well and effectively that trashing it seemed like trashing another old friend. I did not find Webster's easier to use, but that was probably more due to sentiment than practicality. I've gotten used to it and am okay with it now, though the sense of double betrayal still lingers.

I am sharing the article below with you as my final farewell to both friends and with deep gratitude to both. As a writer, I could not have done without either. Thank you Ben. Thank you Roget, even though you put your unusual book together under suffering circumstances.   

===========


A life of madness, pain and words
Roget: New book looks at the man who created the first thesaurus
The Province, March 30, 2008


His mother suffered dark depressions and tried to dominate his life. His sister and daughter had severe mental problems, his father and wife died young and a beloved uncle committed suicide in his arms.
So what did Peter Mark Roget, the creator of Roget’s Thesaurus, do to handle all the pain, grief, sorrow, affliction, woe, bitterness, unhappiness and misery in a life that lasted more than 90 years?
He made lists.
The 19th century British scientist made lists of words, creating synonyms for all occasions that ultimately helped make life easier for term paper writers, crossword puzzle lovers and anyone looking for the answer to the age-old question: “What’s another word for …”
And according to a new biography, making his lists saved Roget’s life and by keeping him from succumbing to the depression and misery of those around him.
“As a boy he stumbled upon a remarkable discovery – that compiling lists of words could provide solace, no matter what misfortunes may befall him,” says Joshua Kendall, author of the just-published The Man Who Made Lists, a study of Roget’s life (1779-1869) based on diaries, letters and even an autobiography composed of lists.
Kendall, in a recent interview, said Roget cared more for words than people and that making lists on the scale that he did was obsessive-compulsive behavior that helped him fend off the demons that terrorized his distinguished British family.
Madness was a regular guest in Roget’s home, Kendall said. One of his grandmothers either had schizophrenia or severe depression, and Roget’s mother lapsed into paranoia, often accusing the servants of plotting against her. Both his sister and his daughter suffered depression and mental problems.
Then there was the case of Roget’s uncle, British member of Parliament Sir Samuel Romilly, known for his opposition to the slave trade and for his support of civil liberties. He slit his own throat while Roget tried to get the razor out of his hands.
Unlike a thesaurus, no one understood Uncle Sam’s last words: “My dear … I wish …”
Indeed, to quote most of the Thesaurus listing for pain, Roget’s was a life filled with grief, pain, suffering, distress, affliction, woe, bitterness, heartache, unhappiness, infelicity and misery.
Kendall said, “The lists gave him an alternative world to which to repair.” Many writers have declared their debt to Roget, including Peter Pan’s creator, J.M. Barrie. In homage, he put a copy of the Thesaurus in Captain Hook’s cabin so he could declare: “The man is not wholly evil – he has a Thesaurus in his cabin.”
The 20th century poet Sylvia Plath called herself “Roget’s Strumpet” to pay respects for all the word choices he gave her.
But the British journalist Simon Winchester holds Roget responsible for helping to dumb down Western culture because his work allows a writer to look it up rather than think it out.
Roget made his first attempt at a thesaurus at age 26 but put aside the effort and did not publish his book until 1852, when he was in his 70s and retired. He then kept busy with it for the rest of his life.
It became an instant hit in Britain but did not sell that well when an American edition was published two years later. But when Americans went crazy for crossword puzzles in the 1920s, the Thesaurus assumed its place on reference shelves.
Kendall’s book is written in a style that he calls “narrative non-fiction,” which contains a lot of dialogue and descriptions of how Roget and his friends feel and think, all, he says, based on source material.

“I did a lot of work to stitch together a narrative,” he said, adding that all the scenes in the book are based on actual events.

Sunday 12 November 2017

Post 191--From Fiesta to Siesta--The Great Hispanic Life Recycle


I just read an article yesterday by a Miami-based Christian Reformed Hispanic pastor, Felix Fernandez, that so delighted me for its Hispanic life wisdom that I want to share it with you. The title is "This Rhythm Is Gonna Get You." (The Banner January 2017, p. 7).

In his effort to explain the life that recycles between fiesta and siesta, Fernandez had trouble finding the right vocabulary for a reading constituency that has a large contingency of Dutch immigrants, including myself, and their descendants in both Canada and the USA. So he did what he had never done before: He resorted to a Dutch-English dictionary to find "equivalents for two of the most important words from my (that is, his) part of the world: "fiesta" and "siesta." These words "shaped how I (Fernandez) approach my entire life," but he had difficulty finding the right words for his readers--that's how far basic concepts of his culture are from the culture of his Western constituency.

My wife and I were once caught up in another culture that has a similar feature. We were wandering around in an Athens market, when all of a sudden the entire place shut down in the middle of the day. What on earth....!  It was this fiesta-siesta thing.  So, it's by no means only Hispanic.

Well, okay, here goes Fernandez.  Enjoy--and think about what most of us seem to be missing!

                                                   ==================

For the first time in my life, I opened a Dutch dictionary. But I struggled to find equivalents for two of the most important words from my part of the world: fiesta and siesta. These two words have shaped how I approach my entire life. My Dominican parents embedded them in my soul from the time I was born in the States. I can still remember as a little child going to bed because I was too tired to stay up until midnight on Noche Buena (Christmas Eve). As I lay there in my room, I could hear my family in the distance, dancing and laughing while Latin music played in the background.
You need to know that I’m writing this article from way down in “the bottom”—the place where everything is an occasion to party. Down here in Miami, the “Magic City,” music from the rapper Pitbull is pounding and horns are always honking. Banquet halls are on every corner, competing with each other like they’re gas stations. We have South Beach, Calle Ocho, La Carreta, and Little Havana in Miami. This city knows how to get together and celebrate.
I long for the day when we can all say the same thing about our personal, congregational, and denominational life: “That person—or church—really knows how to put on her dancing shoes.”
Life is exhausting. Our backs are going to ache and our feet are going to hurt. We have to realize that we are either going to wear ourselves out because we have spent all day focusing on what’s wrong with the world and ourselves, or we are going to need a break because we’ve spent the day dancing with Jesus for what he is making new. Sure, we can have a serious conversation—but let’s have it while sipping on a cup of Cuban coffee and playing a game of dominoes together.
The great news is that after the fiesta comes the siesta. Please keep in mind that you are supposed to take siestas in the middle of the workday, not at night. And taking a siesta doesn’t mean you are lazy. It actually means the opposite. It is an indicator that you have worn yourself out attempting to build something transformative for the glory of God in this world.
Siestas are best utilized by those who take their work seriously but who also understand the secret of contentment. Consider how many naps a newborn infant takes during the day. Perhaps this is part of what Jesus meant when he said we need childlike faith to entire his kingdom. When we find our rest in Jesus, he goes to work on behalf of his people.
The rhythm of the Christian life is simple: after the fiesta comes the siesta, and after the siesta it’s time to fiesta again! Let’s put dancing shoes on our feet and place a pillow under our arm as we prepare to cha-cha our way toward the future God has prepared for us together.