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Liberal theologians have a tendency to deride fundamentalist Christians for their habit of subjecting scripture to (ostensibly) literal readings. The fundamentalist tells how Christ’s power was made manifest in his healing of the blind Bartimaeus and the liberal answers, as if defending from a deliberate provocation, that this is merely a figurative expression of clarity and vision. Tom Harpur has gone so far as to suggest that we are drowning in literalness, and must gird our loins, so-to-speak, in the face of this onslaught against, or at least obfuscation of, the truth.

It’s been only 10 years since the first browsers (Mozilla & then Netscape) were widely distributed, making the internet readily accessible to average computer users. Immediately, early adoptees, futurists, & pundits announced wild possibilities for a radical social realignment. They declared that, like Rocky Balboa, the little guy had a shot at the title; the internet leveled the playing field; epolitics was naturally democratic (maybe even socialist). They made any number of cliché-ridden declarations. For those who espoused a revolutionary politics or preached a liberation theology, the appeal of the internet, or at least the idea of the internet, was obvious. But the response was more pragmatic — thousands of garage bands cut demo tracks, ripped mp3′s, and posted them on sites like mp3.com (at least in its early iteration), fully expecting that lucrative recording contracts were inevitable once the moguls at BMG and EMI downloaded the demos and “discovered” them. The internet provided the same promise to graphic designers, animators, writers, poets, & video editors.

On Sunday, we went to West Hill United Church which holds itself out as a “progressive community of faith.” See an earlier rant for more on the reaction provoked by its minister, Gretta Vosper. I’ve never been to a “progressive” service, and so I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe most of the members would be leftovers from the sixties, diffuse potheads smiling amiably when we walked through the door; or maybe we would find a cult of personality, utterly devoted to its spiritual leaders; or maybe the congregants would be a cerebral bunch (given that their web site calls for an approach which is “intellectually rigorous”); or maybe they would be a charismatic crowd, inspired by a fresh view of things, falling down on the floor as they whacked one another on the head.

I just had to laugh. I was walking past a box, like the newspaper boxes, that displayed a free Summer 2005 syllabus for The Learning Annex. The cover features what I presume to be their most popular course: “Is There Life After Death? Find Out!” I hope I’m not the only person who thinks this is funny.

The Interpretation of Cultures, by Clifford Geertz (New York, N.Y.: Basic Books, 1973) is a collection of anthropological essays which combines a theoretical examination (how we should think about thinking about cultures) with field work (thinking about cultures). First collected in 1973, the volume has been reissued because its ideas simply will not go away. His writings may have wider application and a more urgent relevance than is apparent at first glance. I was particularly taken by his account of a funeral in Java. When I first read it, I was astonished, thinking: “He’s writing about the religious right in the southern U.S.” But as I reflect further, I see that Geertz is writing about me.In the essay on the funeral in Java, Geertz makes two initial observations:

My sister-in-law called with a grammatical question. A family argument had arisen. They wanted to know the correct use of the comparative. Here are the options:

Three posts ago, I concluded by pointing out the usefulness of hypertext. It is a tool which enables us in certain directions. Afterward, in a more reflective mood, it occurred to me that hypertext is both analogical, and a facilitator of analogical thinking.

Summer reading, nothing freshly published, just books that have sat unread on my shelves, books I’ve been meaning to read but have brushed aside in favour of more immediate demands. These are the books, all novels:

Just when you think the world is going to hell in a hand basket, something happens that gives cause to celebrate. Sinn Fein just announced that the IRA is turning its back on violence as a means to an independent Ireland. Yes. Some greet the announcement with skepticism, saying the British public should not be lulled into a false sense of security, or that it is an opportunistic move which plays upon Britain’s vulnerability after a series of bombings. Yes. There are painful memories. Paula McCartney, sister of an innocent victim, wants no one to forget the violence, and she wants the perpetrators brought called to account. But at least Sinn Fein is talking about peace. At least it is using the right words, and encouraging others to turn from bullets to words in order to address their grievances. Peace needs to start somewhere. Why not with just such an announcement?

I keep tinkering with my blog, and this stems from an evolving sense of the point of this blog, and of blogs generally.

Tamiko called a few minutes ago to say there had been a bomb threat and the Toronto-Dominion Centre had been evacuated. She works on the 47th floor & it’s a long way to the ground. And so I sat and stewed and thought maybe I would drive downtown to pick her up. She called back to say they had been given the all-clear and were back in their offices, though still too rattled to do much work.

The August 2005 issue of Popular Science, the wonderful rag that celebrates good old—fashioned American know—how, has, as its cover story, a survey of 6 proposals to counteract global warming. These proposals were presented at a round table discussion called “Response Options to Rapid or Severe Climate Change,” an event sponsored by George W’s Climate Change Technology Program.

I did something radical and became a card-carrying member of the Green Party of Canada. In truth, it doesn’t feel so radical. More than ever before, a politics of the environment appears both respectable and viable. But the Green Party, and all environmental activism organizations for that matter, face a major obstacle: marketing to middle-class North America.

We just returned from a week in Victoria where Tamiko’s brother lives. It’s been a few years since we were last on the west coast, and my initial impression, on this visit, was: “Victoria has gotten to be just like any other North American city, with its malls and its share of the ubiquitous mass-market franchise.” Six weeks ago, we ate a dinner in Halifax where they served Pacific salmon. This week, we ate by the wharf in Victoria where they serve Atlantic lobster. Could our country have become so homogeneous that one city is indistinguishable from every other? This thought distressed me, and so, with a tinge of desperation, I scoured the city for some reassurance that it still has a soul of its own, a distinctive identity. My other concern was that, while most other Canadian cities view Toronto with a quiet contempt for its aggressive vulgarity, perhaps secretly they aspire to the very thing they profess to loathe.

Toronto hosts the 3rd largest pride day in North America with over a million people flocking to the city over the weekend. I did not celebrate because I was roasting at a soccer tournament in Mississauga. Nevertheless, in keeping with the occasion, I thought I would do something I have been meaning to do for a long time — write a letter to my local member of parliament. The Martin liberals are trying to enact a bill which redefines marriage for the purposes of federal legislation so that those in less—than—traditional relationships of some permanence can access certain entitlements that have long been denied to them.