I'm currently reading through a three volume history by Lord John Julius Norwich. For enjoyable reading, it has plenty of everything one could want in history: wars, riots, intrigues, treachery, betrayals, palace coups, greed, debauchery, strange turns of events, strange peoples, unexplained mysteries, religious tumults, murders, meyhem, tortures, mutilations, parricides, fratricides, suicides, and regicides.

The history of the Iraq War and the Bush Administration? Hum, No.

Actually, it's Lord Norwich's Byzantium. I just finished the first volume, "The Early Centuries", and have started the second, "The Apogee". I am at the point where Basil the Macedonian, in a plot to grab the imperial Byzantine throne, has finished murdering his buddy and friend, the last dynast of the Amorians, Michael III (aka "The Sot"). Actually, Basil wasn't Macedonian but instead an Armenian; he had only lived in Macedonia for a short time, and he spoke Greek with a heavy Armenian accent.

Confusing? Well, let me put it this way: when reading Byzantine history, one has to pay very close attention.

So far my only complaints about Lord Norwich's history are: firstly, his contempt for Xnty is barely disguised—although he is, for some reason, more laudatory of Islam—and secondly, he simply makes no serious effort to help his reader fully understand the reasons behind some of the religious controversies in the eastern church, controversies which were so important in Byzantine history. Like a good Modernist, he simply throws up his hands and says it's all quite "impossible" to understand. Furthermore, there were a couple of spots where I thought he was getting things simply flat-out wrong. For example, he mistakenly labeled the Paulicians a xtian sect, when in fact they were just another recrudescence of Gnosticism, an altogether different thing, which back in the Middle Ages would pop up in various times and places, albeit decked out in different styles. Gnosticism is still around even today and has never really gone away—just check around the local big-chain bookstores to see what I mean. Academe and writers of cheesy novels especially love Gnosticism. However, understanding the distinction between Gnosticism and Xnty was just too subtle for Lord Norwich apparently. But other than that, I found his Byzantium to be well written and very engrossing.

In the news, my wife just walked in and said they hanged Saddam, finally, which is far better treatment than what most of his victims ever received. I guess there are now plenty of people in European capitals (like Paris), and the United Nations too, who are now breathing big sighs of relief. After all, dead men tell no tales, especially tales involving oil, and lots and lots of money. There may even be some here in America as well who are breathing big sighs of relief.

Anyhow, as for Gerald Ford, he was famous for only two things: (1) pardoning Richard Nixon, and (2) losing to Jimmy Carter. Other than that, his administration was not very noteworthy. It's hard to understand why his passing has been blown up to such a big proportion by the MSM. Anything to make Dubya look bad in comparison? I wonder. As for James Brown, well, he could sing and lead the police on high speed chases, from what I hear.

Once again it's confirmed that "they die in threes". This time it was James Brown, Gerald Ford, and Saddam Hussein. What a combination.

addendum:

I finished the second volume, but I am going to take a short break before tackling Lord Norwich's third book in the series, "The Decline and Fall". One can overdose on this stuff. I do have something to say to those in the Catholic and Orthodox churches who still may be hankering for a return to the old Constantinian Church-State amalgamation: sorry, but no, thank you. Byzantium was where that old arrangement existed in spades, and besides corrupting the church, it never really worked right.

On Sunday I was a little surprised to see Rick Warren appearing on Meet the Press, being interviewed, together with someone from Newsweek, by the mighty Tim Russert. The topics mostly concerned religion in America, as it was Christmas eve.

I suspect that Mr. Warren is now becoming a media darling. Did his recent trip to Syria, where he got to hobnob with the various thugocrats and enemies of America, have anything to do with this sudden visibility? Has Rick Warren now been promoted by the MSM to the status of "evangelical spokesman"? I wonder.

I didn't get to listen to very much of the interview since I was in the middle of getting ready to go to church. But I think this bears watching. I wonder if Mr. Warren will start turning up in other venues.

In the past, I have talked a little about Rick Warren, although more recently I haven't been paying him too much attention. But in our neck of the woods, he is not entirely uncontroversial. In a word, because of him, the small town baptist church my mom attended for many years was split up, not without some acrimony. It's a long story and I don't particularly care to rehash it.

Come to think of it, there are plenty of necks in the woods where Mr. Warren is not without controversy. Rick Warren is indeed an interesting study all of its own—sort of like Bushology, which I mentioned earlier.

Anyhow, if Mr. Warren wishes to reinforce his position as permanent media darling, he needs to take a hint from Jimmy Carter and do only one more thing: pay a visit to Fidel Castro. Hurry, before rigor mortis sets in.

It has warmed up remarkably here in Land-In-Between. All the beautiful snow in my front yard has melted away.

Thank you, Al Gore.

While at one of my favorite coffee dispensaries, the Kootenai Coffee Company, here in Land-In-Between, I chatted with one of our pastors yesterday. And during the course of the conversation, I mentioned that Benny Hinn was taking collections for acquiring a private jet. Then I asked if he had any thoughts about Benny Hinn. In so many words, his response was that he tried to refrain from having any opinions regarding him. Not to have an opinion is well and good, I suppose.

Nevertheless, it is also very certain that most of the secular world has not hesitated to formulate a very definite opinion regarding Benny Hinn: that he is a sleazy, money-grubbing charlatan of the worst variety. And so because of him, the Gospel gets denigrated and besmirched, for in the world's eyes it is associated with con-men and frauds and hucksters. That's the world's opinion. Now whether it is good or bad for the world to have such an opinion, I wish somebody would tell me.

I do keep a dream diary, a noctuary. I try to record any dreams that seem particularly noteworthy. Here is one that I continue to vividly remember, which occured sometime during the summer, although after checking my noctuary it appears I neglected to record it:

It was evening, and I was standing outside the entrance to a church. The doors were open, and I could see inside a service going on, with many people inside. At first I felt reluctant to enter. Next, I was inside the church, but I don't recollect whether there were any other people there. The inside was very beautiful and well lit. The walls were a light greenish-blue in color, and there were beautiful windows. But what was important was this: I looked up and there on the wall, above the windows, was a large, broad mural depicting a scene. The mural showed a large group of men lounging in a grassy field on reclining chairs of some kind. Their appearance indicated that they enjoyed their leisure. They were leaning back very nonchalantly. Next, I look at a different part of the wall, above the windows, and I see a different scene, one showing a large herd of very woolly sheep. But there were no shepherds attending these sheep.

Here is what I think is the interpretation. It might concern the Church in general, or perhaps just the particular church that I attend. But I really don't know for sure whether the dream is specific or general. But what it did show, paradoxically speaking, was that the sheep and shepherds didn't mix. The lounging men in the dream were the shepherds, but these were concerned only for their own ease and comfort. They seemed satisfied with things as they are. The sheep on the other hand had no one watching over them. They were in a flock by themselves, unattended by anyone. The sheep didn't relate to the shepherds nor the shepherds with the sheep. They seemed to be in different worlds, that are apart from one another.

So I wonder. Can pastors really empathize with the concerns of their people? Do they actually relate to them? Or do pastors view themselves as a specialist class of some kind, up in a lofty tower surrounded by a wall of professionalism, being the people with all the answers and possessing the correct procedures; and down below are the sheep, who are merely their clientele or customers?

The world already has plenty of professional classes of various kinds. We recognize them immediately, and we know exactly what to do during our encounters with them: We take a number and get in the queue. When we get their bills in the mail, we dutifully pay them. But professionals can never be our friends, not really. Therefore, professionals are not like us ordinary folks. They are above us. We might talk to them, but there is a strange albeit polite silence across the table, as though there was an ongoing calculation happening. Professionals calculate because they're professional. They compute their answers before they respond. On the other hand, Sheep lack guile and they bleat stupidly.

Perhaps, initially, the shepherds didn't start out intending to become professionalized. (Most professionals have good intentions.) But being around sheep can get one's clothes dirty. Sheep are grubby creatures. Perhaps, after a while, the shepherds underwent a process where they begin to distance themselves mentally, and a wall went up, a diplomatic demeanor maintained, a certain distance kept.

Anyhow, it was an very odd dream, and I cannot help remembering it. Perhaps, this dream is showing a ongoing problem in the Church. Perhaps, the act of looking upwards indicated that it represented the heavenly perspective on what is happening on earth below. I don't know. Interpreting dreams is a very slippery business. And, of course, nobody is going to pay any attention to this anyhow. It's just a silly dream.

As someone who believes there can be a genuine "prophetic ministry" in the church, it is nonetheless disturbing to me that this website—which evidently aspires to promote this sort of ministry—is so effusively larded up with commercialism and advertising, besides being rather clumsily designed. I do wish the website's proprietor would tone down the advertising; and he would not do badly if he also sought some web design advice from the famous Jeffry Zeldman.

But I often wonder. Why is it that so much of what xtian "ministries" do nowadays, especially on the Web, looks so shoddy or monetary-driven or both? Just look at some of the web sites. It almost appears that some people's idea of what constitutes a "heavenly calling" eventually ends up being just another sort of worldly business plan:

• Get a charisma of some kind.
• Start up a "ministry".
• Set up a web site.
• Use it to sell books, CDs, and trinkets.
• Book appearances for handsome fees.
• Profit!

Somehow I don't think the profit-motive is a proper prophet motive.

The calling of a prophet is not to go out and hustle up a profit. Haven't any of the lucre-minded people heard of the Error of Balaam? It's a temptation, or don't they know? Doesn't anyone bother to remember what happened to Gehazi?

What's sad to me is this: I think some of those who get mentioned on the aforementioned website do have genuine giftings. Nevertheless, to be showcased there, in such heavily commercialized surroundings, casts them in a rather deplorable light, as sincere as they otherwise might be. This is probably not what is intended, but it does have that effect. That's how I view it.

It's bad enough that Benny Hinn is now taking collections to get himself a new "state-of-the-art jet aircraft". Yes, that's right; Benny Hinn wants a private jet, and he's already given it a name: "Dove One". But if there's a "One", perhaps he's already thinking ahead about numbers "Two" and "Three"? Anyhow, by sending him a modest donation of only a $1000,

You will receive a beautiful art-quality model of Dove One for your desk or mantle as a constant reminder that you are a vital part of this last-days harvest for souls.

Pardon me while I go toss my cookies.

On Friday night I finally watched "Polar Express". The idea of a magical train was interesting, and the movie was very dream-like in places. In fact, some parts bore a resemblance to some of my dreams, especially the urban landscape of Santa's North Pole metropolis. The Hobo on the carriage roof was unnerving in a Stephen Kingish kind of way, but apparently he was not malevolent as he rescues the main character at various points in the story. However, Santa's Elves at the North Pole seemed downright creepy to me, more like midget, shopping-mall versions of Nosferatu. The Conductor's final admonition, which ran something like "it doesn't matter where the train is going just as long you get on", was just about the most stupid advice ever given out in a Hollywood production.

As I have mentioned in the past at different times, Wretchard at the Belmont Club is one of my favorite bloggers. He has proposed his now famous "Three Conjectures", which anyone who knows how to Google can certainly find out more about. He recently noted that the Polonium-210 poisoning of Alexander Litvinenko, the former Russian spy, over in Britain, presages the possibility of radiological terrorism on a wider scale. He voiced his feelings by saying "we are in a war for our lives." That indeed may be the case. But to complement Wretchard's "Three Conjectures", I hereby make a corresponding proposition:

Three Cities Axiom

America must first lose a minimum of three cities before it wakes up to the situation.

Ho hum. Everything—the church, the country, the whole society—is melting into such a gooey bilge of post-modernist mush-thinking that I doubt anything will have survived once the real barbarians arrive on the scene.