[Review of Faith and International Affairs; Summer 2007]
“It was during this part that the majority of us tried to kill ourselves.”
They buried my spiritual father last November. I have never seen a body in a casket look so not-there; the indistinct pale husk he left behind looked like something a breeze could lift up and carry away. It was the contrast, I suppose. Few people in life are as radiant and vigorous as Fr. George Calciu, or as full of joy. He was a few days short of his 81st birthday, still full-time pastor of a church in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, still traveling world-wide to those who sought him as a teacher and spiritual father, still diligently reaching out to the poor and unchurched around him.
Fr. George’s radiance was a lasting rebuke to the darkest intentions of torturers. In his native Romania he was imprisoned twice by the Communist authorities, for a total of 21 years. He was a survivor, in particular, of the brief but appalling “Pitesti Experiment”—the most intensive program of brainwashing to take place behind the Iron Curtain.
Last night Arlie and I went to the best 4th of July party ever. My new boss, John Kim, hosted it at his house. There were LOTS of people there-- friends and clients, no doubt. The house was enormous, so was his yard! I quickly found my supervisor Naomi and her grandmother, Rosalie (also works with John). Rosalie introduced me to her husband, Naomi's Grandfather. Naomi also introduced me to her pastor-husband, Gary. We really hit it off-- first we talked about politics, talk-radio and the like. Then he asked us about Orthodoxy. I think that part was very positive... I regret going about it in such a haphazard way, though. I felt like between Arlie and I, we were rambling and going from very specific to very general and back again without much depth in any specific way.... anyway, I was glad to meet someone who shared similar theological interests as well as political ones. Then came the best amateur fireworks display I have ever seen in my LIFE. Who knows how much he spent on all of it, but really the fireworks themselves were professional grade, and arranged beautifully. The greatest part was getting to be so close to such great fireworks-- it was like Ol' King George III was getting his lunch handed to him again! Woo! Oh also, to my great surprise and delight, Rosalie informed me that I was going to be getting more weekly hours! This group of people is really something special... I just hope I don't let them down.
On a side note, I really feel sorry for the people who, for whatever reason, cannot see the good and beautiful things about America.
I’m a professional ethicist with an ethical problem. I want to donate money to a goofy leftist wingnut outfit, but it turns out that my employer (a popular liberal periodical that sometimes runs straight news pieces) has some silly ethics rules that prevent me from doing so. Since these ethics rules are plainly dumb, should I just ignore them and do what’s right? I’d ask an ethicist but I don’t know any good ones.
Nincompoops talk ethics. Men talk virtues. Stop being a nincompoop.
My highest law-school grade was in Legal Ethics. I achieved a stellar grade because I devised an infallible mechanism for solving any legal ethical dilemma. My mechanism was this: Remember that legal ethics is a system of rules:
1) designed by sociopaths; 2) for sociopaths; 3) to prevent public acknowledgment of their sociopathy; 4) while still allowing said sociopaths to fleece said public.
Once you realize that contemporary ethics is not morality but the clever simulation of morality, you’re halfway to qualifying for an ethics-consulting job.
I’m only kidding a little about the sociopathy. By definition, a sociopath is one who can only emulate the rules and mores of society, as a sociopath never internalizes any sense of right and wrong. In a country where fewer and fewer people agree about how to determine right and wrong, the bogus pseudo-answers of ethics begin to sound more and more appealing. Put another way: As we grow more sociopathic as a society, ethics makes more and more sense.
And that’s where you come in, my fine ethical friend. Your job as a public ethicist is not to teach people how best to apply the rules and obligations of a transcendent authority, as the ethicists of old once did. That would be hard. And intrusive. And divisive. And let’s face it: “transcendent authority” carries the whiff of the red state, with all the unpleasantness (NASCAR, Wal-Mart, redundant children) there attached. Neither is your job to teach philosophy. That, too, would be hard, and unsatisfying as well; when do philosophers ever agree? No, your job is to provide just enough soothing advice to scratch that fleeting itch that your affluent readership feels when confronted with moral questions that vacuous self-serving upper class prejudices can’t immediately resolve. Forget right and wrong; the role of the modern ethicist is to move puzzled smart people from a state of mild dismay to a pleasant coma of satisfied smugness in the shortest time possible. You seek to avoid not sin, but the appearance of impropriety. But a great many virtues can appear quite improper, and a great many sins can appear quite proper indeed.
Consider, for example, the “ethical” rule that precludes journalists (and quasi-journalists like yourself) from donating money to politicians and overt shill machines. You’ve correctly deduced that this rule is asinine. Suppose for a moment that you obeyed it. Would you feel any differently, write any differently, be biased against conservatives any differently if you kept your $585.00 instead of donating it? And would you suddenly evolve into a better, purer, more ethically unstoppable self if you gave that money to The Medusa Fund for Underprivileged Maoists in Malibu, instead of Kucinich for President? No, this rule does nothing to prevent bias. It rewards those sneaky enough to donate anonymously, or through a proxy, even as it penalizes those who make their political biases a matter of public record. Note that my infallible ethics problem-solving mechanism predicts this rule perfectly:
1)It’s easily implemented, so that even a sociopath can enforce it;
2)It’s easy to obey, so that even a sociopath can abide by it;
3)It gives the public the entirely false sense that journalists who abide by this rule are honorable and unbiased; and
4)It doesn’t prevent any journalist with even a lick of cleverness from secretly donating money to politicians and then copping a “fairer than thou” attitude from an unassailable position of serene non-involvement.
Modern ethics is what’s left when trust has completely evaporated between leaders and the led. Whether it’s zero-tolerance school-violence policies that get kids arrested for drawing pictures of guns, draconian anti-pedophile policies that get priests bounced on the strength of an accusation, mandatory sentencing laws that put potheads in the slammer for life, or anti-touching school policies that outlaw hugs, the theme is the same: authority doesn’t trust you, you don’t trust authority, so let’s invent some rules that make no sense but sound good while eliminating any possibility that human discretion or common sense can penetrate our ethical paradise. To badly mangle Eliot, modern ethics is a system of morality so universally applicable that no one needs to be good. Was ever a compliment more damning than “He’s an extraordinarily ethical fellow?” Don’t leave your wallet or your wife around extraordinarily ethical fellows.
A real system for determining right and wrong requires commonly held first principles and leadership with the acknowledged authority to interpret and apply those principles. That kind of agreement is in short supply these days. In modern societies where people adhering to all sorts of creeds regularly interact in order to make money, principles and dogma will tend to take a backseat to rough ‘n ready codes of conduct – and modern ethics is nothing if not rough ‘n ready. Morality is for heroes; modern ethics is for sophisters, economists, and calculators. We tolerate modern ethics, as we tolerate sophisters, but they should both know their place, and neither should command great love or respect.
So ignore the rules, Randy, and donate away. Of course, your donation will expose you as an appalling hypocrite, and you may lose your job consequently. That’s okay. Your job is stupid. Why not write a column calling men to heroic virtue instead of cocktail-party pleasantries? With your tremendous experience as a comedy writer for Rosie O’Donnell, you’re pretty well qualified for either gig.
Summer is here, we have our new (to us) car, law school is 1/3rd finished, and we are in the thick of the Apostles' Fast. Today we went strawberry picking at Boughton Farm, about 15 minutes away from our home, and we were inspired to take some pictures of our 12-pound harvest. Actually picking the strawberries was a new experience for me-- Arlie tried to make that a big deal, like somehow I had missed out on life. It was fun, although it involved crouching down or bending over most of the time.
The fast itself is going pretty well for us, although it seems that, at least in my local community, this fast is kept far less strictly than Lent or the Advent fast. Our older friend Cindy said as much when we had her over to talk about us hosting a Pampered Chef party. I think we pretty much agreed that she would demo recipes that were fasting, or at least didn't have any meat.
Sorry for the poor quality. This was posted on youtube this last December. I just can't believe how dumb the reporters are-- how foreign it all is to them, and how the only people that got some airtime just say-- "I'm a believer". However, the reporter even admits to observing more oil on the frame in just the two hours they had been there. Don't dig too deep, local news... after all, you might find the truth.
Our last day of property was filled with hilarity, as several people in the class participated in Prof. Lee's end-of-semester poetry contest. The class session before he had told us what he was looking for-- material that really "captured the essence" of Property II. He gave a previous year's example of a Haiku, which the student had introduced by way of saying, "In honor of Prof. Lee's heritage..." which he explained was not a cool thing to do since Haikus are Japanese and Lee's ancestry is Chinese (woops!).
I didn't participate, but the people that did were GREAT. There were the traditional ones-- limmericks, sonnets, freeform. One began his by saying, "In honor of Prof. Lee's heritage...just kidding." Clayton, the guy in my class that I can only describe with the words "punk rock" to demonstrate the level of coolness and his personality, gave a free-form performance piece that had the class rolling on the floor. The real highlight from his piece wasn't really related to property, but lawschool in general: "If Section 1 had a mother, she would be SO ugly." (we're Section 2... and collectively there is some good-spirited rivalry). So many of these people were REAL performers. It was amazing to see these people, having known them in an academic context for a year now, to really break out and reveal some of their personality as they entertained us with jokes only people who had taken Property II would get. One guy, a real smart alecky type of fellow, had a two line poem:
What's mine is mine, unless it isn't.
ARGH. That didn't get a favorable reaction from the class... we're usually very straightforward with our appreciation or disapproval and this was no exception.
But it was GREAT and Prof. Lee had a poem of his own to give that was really funny and moving at the same time.
For some reason I am overcome this morning by a sense of purpose and meaning to my life, even my problems. Someone must be praying for me.
I'm on a really strange sleep schedule that sort of involves a few hours during the day and a few hours in the early morning. So far, so good. I took some time from studying to write a brief OrthodoxWikipedia article for my heavenly patron, St. Isaac the Confessor. The community there has already formatted it so that it looks really good. I plan on expanding it this summer when I can do more research, so as to include stuff about his role as the patron of the Romanov dynasty, and stuff about the enormous temple dedicated to him in St. Petersburg. I'd really like to know where his relics are, too. Writing the article put me in mind of my namesday (May 30) and got me thinking about what plans I should make to fittingly honor St. Isaac on that day... possibly more on that later.
This law school thing isn't for those who are too attached to the warmth and comfort of their beds. The last several days have been... interesting. I had my oral appellate argument yesterday at the Ohio ninth district court of appeals in front of my group instructor (a clerk for that court) and two of her lawyer friends. Let me just tell you that it went so much better than I thought it would. Some sort of calm came over me in the heat of battle. For those who don't know (I certainly didn't), giving an appellate argument isn't like the Perry Mason trial stuff you see on TV. It's more of a conversation with the panel of judges. As you go into the main points of the brief that you filed with the court, they interrupt you (and then, my friend, you must SHUT UP) and ask you stuff that you HAVE to be ready for ("so what exactly is the standard of review on this issue?" "when was that case decided?" "How do you distinguish the case at bar from this precedent?").
For some reason, I knew all their questions, delivering my argument in the best way I could and using the oral argument techniques we had learned in class. At one point, my opponent didn't know the facts in a certain case (and neither did the judges-- hahaha) so in rebuttal I wowed them with a brief recitation of the facts of that case and how really its argument coincided with the argument I was making for my client. Really, to have done so much drudgery all year long, and to have done SO much research and writing on this particular case all semester, we were finally given a little taste of the FUN stuff that lawyers get to do. The "judges" had nothing but good things to say about me in their critique, which, I told my opponent, probably meant that I was doomed! But really, it was great. I hadn't slept (and really, still haven't) but I was euphoric.
The celebration was short-lived. Last night I had to write up a four-page argument for a roleplaying scencario in criminal law, analyzing issues of "attempt" crimes from both common law and Model Penal Code rules. Four pages isn't much, but before I started I had to read about 40 pages in my crimlaw book all about it, so it was time consuming. But really I got like three hours sleep this morning, and its either that or adrenaline or the red bulls I'm drinking, but I'm not feeling tired. That's a good thing, too, because I have three classes today.
As my friend Maryellen just put it, "Law school is no joke."
Friday evening Arlie and I went to see Christina Aguilera in concert. Yes, some of you might be thinking that I have finally fallen over the edge into worldliness and vanity. I won't refute that, but suffice to say that one of the main reasons I chose to get tickets for this thing was a) to do something "different" with my wife that would also be fun and celebratory for Bright Week, and b) because Aguilera has really become something of an artist.
I must tell you that we were not disappointed. Opening for her, the Pussycat Dolls left MUCH to be desired in the way of taste, class, entertainment value, etc. I read one reviewer who likened them to "ghosts from Christina's past." But anyway, Aguilera herself was AMAZING. Her songs, mainly from her new album Back to Basics, were incredibly original yet also hearkening back to the soul, blues, and jazz of the 20s, 30s, and 40s. There's really not much like it on the contemporary music scene. And yes, some of the old standbys were there-- Beautiful which was remarkably touching in a non self-aggrandizing way, and the finale was Fighter which has fast become one of my anthems on bad days at law school, which have exponentially increased of late. Arlie's favorite was "Greatest Show on Earth" because the fire twirlers, trapeze artists, and guy on huge stilts were the closest thing she's ever seen to an actual circus. And the wardrobe changes... wow. Only one outfit, I think, could fairly be deemed "licentious" so really overall the show was not only amazing, and Aguilera herself at the top of her game, but it was actually tasteful and classy.
I just have to tell you, she was fabulous. We were really close to the stage, close enough to see her face and all that, and either she was a very good at acting, or she genuinely seemed to enjoy giving the performance. Her voice... what can I say about it? It's hard to believe, I know, but it sounds even better and more unbelievable in person. How can such a tiny person belt out these notes with such depth, clarity, and quality? It was a fun night.
Snowpup's most recently discovered talent is being able to find spiders-- on the ceiling, hanging from the ceiling, or crawling on the wall. His little puppy eyes are geared to movement, I suppose. This is one reason I don't like living in an old house-- I see at least one spider a week. I used to be afraid of them, now they're mostly angering. I hate feeling that way about one of God's creations, but if you're a spider in my house, it's the death sentence for you.
Snowy also has developed an annoying habit of trying to speak to you when you refuse to make eye-contact with him. He'll sit there slowly opening and closing his mouth, at first only "huffing" and "puffing"... then if you still don't look at him he progresses to audible barks, louder and louder as much as he thinks he can get away with. I tell him no, but if he persists I have to correct him... it's hard sometimes. He's so cute, and his little barks have this terminal "F" sound which is really funny, like "Bfffffffffff!" Oh pup!
It occurred to me the other day that he's a ten-month-old now. He still lets me hold him however I please-- on his back, for instance. Sorry for the randomness. Now onto pressing work that must be done by 10:30 tomorrow morning!!!
Recently I was accepted into the joint-degree program here at UAkron so that I'll be working on both my juris doctorate and a Masters in Applied Politics. What exactly does that entail? Well here are some of the courses I'll be taking:
3700:502 Politics and the Media 3700:540 Survey Research Methods 3700:570 Campaign Management I 3700:571 Campaign Management II 3700:572 Campaign Finance 3700:573 Voter Contact and Elections 3700:574 Political Behavior & Electoral Politics 3700:575 American Interest Groups 3700:576 American Political Parties 3700:600 Scope and Theory 3700:601 Research Methods 3700:620 Seminar in Comparative Politics 3700:630 Seminar in National Politics 3700:668 Public Policy Agendas 3700:672 Political Influence and Organizations 3700:695 Internship 3700:697 Independent Research 3980:614 Ethics and Public Service 7600:691 Advanced Communications Studies
I'm still waiting to hear if I am going to get a graduate assistantship which would pay the tuition and give me a bit of a stipend for the upcoming year... but regardless I'm really excited. Even though it means more classes overall, it means LESS classes in lawschool, which will probably mean less stress these next couple years. Plus, maybe I'll work for someone high up and get some sort of Judge position!
Holy Week this year was amazing. In spite of the stresses of school and work, Arlie and I did our best to really center our lives around the services of the week, really cultivate silence at home and harmony between us. Holy Thursday really kicked everything into high gear, with the Vesperal Liturgy commemorating the Mystical Supper, and then the Matins of the Crucifixion which were just gut-wrenchingly sad. It was just one of those moments when the love and humility of Christ redefines those very words... hot tears just poored down our faces looking at Him on the cross as the choir sang about His silence at the trial, His love for those who hit him in the face, spat upon Him, beat Him, and nailed Him to the Cross.
The Holy Saturday Liturgy was full of expectation-- as Fr. Nicholas put it in his sermon, "The Lord still sleeps, but Christ is *almost* risen." I had forgotten how much I loved the hymn "Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand..." which took the place of the Cherubic Hymn. Fr. Nicholas does so well with the priestly prayers, praying them audibly while the choir sings. It is amazing and those moments have become some of my favorites in the Liturgy. Subdeacon Paul grabbed me at Holy Communion and told me to hold the cloth-- something which is immensely more stressful than I thought it would be. Little Gabriella, Fr. Nicholas' adorable little daughter, is NOT good at receiving communion yet (something very hard for children, I'm sure)! Some of the Divine Blood dribbled down her chin, but thank God I was able to wipe it all before any of it fell, but for a moment we thought a drop might have fallen to the carpet. Disastrous, because we would have had to possibly cut out a peice of the carpet and burn it. It helped me to put my own school-related stress into perspective... nothing like dealing with the flesh and blood of God.
Pascha... *sigh*... how can I describe it to anyone who has not experienced it? Arlie and I arrived about an hour before the service, did our prostrations before the Tomb and Shroud, and sat near the front. About 30 minutes later, the line to venerate the Tomb was out the door, so we were lucky to have gotten there when we did. There had to have been 500-600 people there by 11:30pm when the Paschal Cannon started. I was just so excited when all the lights were turned out... it was so quiet and still... and then... a Light from the altar... slowly growing as the Priest gave the light to the 12 altar boys... the Light revealed the priest's silhouette as he moved around the altar, censing, and slowly and quietly beginning the Paschal hymn, "Thy Resurrection, O Christ our Savior, the Angels in Heaven sing! Enable us on earth to glorify Thee in purity of heart." And then the choir joins in, louder and louder, and the Light was passed throughout the whole Church. And then the procession around the outside of the Church! I kept thinking to myself how amazing it was... here in the middle of the night these huge Russian blagovestnik bells are peeling at a deafening volume... loud enough to wake the dead!!! It was so cold but our hearts were warm!
And then the celebration begins outside the doors. We exchange the Paschal Greeting (Christ is Risen! Indeed He is Risen!), and people are already kissing each other! There is so much love in this Church. The priest re-enacts Christ's conquering of Hades as he knocks on the doors of the Church ("Lift up your gates O ye Princes, and be ye lifted up ye everlasting gates, and the King of Glory shall enter in. Who is the King of Glory? The Risen Christ! He is the King of Glory.") And now we all go back into a Church that is as bright as day, full of lit candles, flowers, and white (the paschal color) everywhere! Lori, who was sitting beside us, exchanged the holy kiss and paschal greeting with Arlie and me. And just when you think the tone of everything can't get any lighter, brighter, or more joyous, the service REALLY begins!
The choir is going crazy, singing "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death! And upon those in the tombs bestowing life!!!" so quickly... The priest is censing the icons and shouting to us-- "Christ is Risen!" "Christos Voskrese!" "Christos Anesti!" and we shout back to each one-- "Indeed He is Risen!" "Voistinu Voskrese!" "Alithos Anesti!" By this time, the dozen altar boys are also going CRAZY, shouting the responses as loudly as they can, much to the approval of Fr. Nicholas, who is egging them on!!!
Something is different about this night. I think this to myself and recall the "four questions" asked by the youngest son on the Passover of the Law, one of which is, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" (Pascha means "passover" literally... something worth thinking more about). Fr. Nicholas told us after the Liturgy that he could see the Light of Pascha on our faces... His countenance had certainly changed. He was so worn out, I know, by Holy Saturday, and here we were in the middle of the night and yet he was full of such energy and joy. The Resurrection changes everything.
The kids in the pew in front of us are so cute. One little boy is having trouble paying attention to the service and his big sister (a little girl herself) is helping to keep him in line, and loving every minute of it-- some things never change. By the time of Holy Communion, they are all zonked out, asleep with blankets. The mom wakes them up to go receive... a very sweet thing to watch. Arlie loves watching the babies at the Church, and they are usually the main subject of our discussion on our drives home.
So much joy, and Holy Communion once more. Father has to tell everyone that only Orthodox may approach the chalice and further, only Orthodox who prepared themselves through confession. He does so in a very humble way, without sounding unwelcoming or anything like that. I hear behind me a lady remarking to another that she hates that. Who doesn't? How tragic our divisions are, but Christ is not divided. But I think to myself how glad I am he did say it, and that he said it the way he did, full of humility. This is for peoples' protection-- since the Eucharist can be both salvation or condemnation.
After the service we all come up to venerate the Cross, get a blessed egg, and exchange the Paschal kiss with the priest. This takes a LONG time... even though we're only a few pews from the front it takes about 15-20 minutes to get up to him. But it doesn't matter anymore... it's like time no longer exists. We get over to the social hall and our Pascha baskets, filled with all the foods we couldn't have during Lent-- meat, dairy, eggs-- are all in a huge circle around the door. Fr. Nicholas comes in with the altar servers and he says the prayers of blessing of the paschal foods, blessing everything with holy water as we all sing once more "Christ is Risen".
Now it's time to eat. We actually had to sign up for tables a few days before so they would know how many to have seats for and all that. Arlie and I sit with about 20 people, all passing around our baskets. Lori made such good lamb, and someone else brought corned venison!!! Those were my two favorites. Arlie and I had brought about 60 chicken wings (half buffalo, half barbeque), a huge bottle of champagne (asti spumante), kulich which our friend Mark sent us (a russian cake made with fruit, eggs, and heavy cream), a portwine cheeseball with crackers, a breadbasket (a basket made of actual bread and filled with rolls), and italian hard salami. A Greek guy about my age laughed when he saw the chicken wings. He said, "You guys don't mess around, do you!!" Haha. No we don't.
He and his wife are such interesting people. Nicholas and Christina have lived in Greece for about a year, and travel to all sorts of places. They are deeply pious and are just some of the most genuine people there are. He is actually a vegetarian, and his wife said that if she ate meat without about a day of reintroducing dairy she would get sick, but they both had a bunch of the dairy stuff. They had a really tasty organic pear sparkling wine that they shared with the table. I pulled the classic line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding on him, "What do you mean he don't eat no meat???" which made everyone laugh. Then Lori, who had actually made lamb, finished it: "That's ok. I make lamb." Classic.
We ate, drank, laughed, and embraced one another in the love of Christ! The children were just ecstatic... running laps and jumping over random things in the huge hall, no doubt hyped-up on all the Easter candies they had just eaten. As my previous Matushka said when the kids started to act up, "The natives are restless."
Arlie and I left around 5 or 5:30, immediately falling unconscious as we hit the pillows. We were too tired to attend the Agape vespers at 11 this morning, but when we did get up we let our puppy up into our bed and we cuddled him and talked about what a good time we had. I got to drink chocolate milk once again-- something Arlie only lets me get on special occasions, probably because of my tendency to "overindulge."
What else is there to say? I hope everyone elses' Pascha was just as wonderful.
I just couldn't resist embedding one more youtube clip. I have been keeping this one in my favorites for about 6 months, waiting for Pascha to post it. I don't know where it is although the kvas on the table with the bishops indicates to me that it's probably Russian... anyway, it's a cute "Christ is Risen" melody, sung in Greek, Latin(I think??) and Slavonic.
NEW YORK--Attorneys representing the Tribe of Abraham filed suit against God in New York's Southern District Court Monday, citing 117 specific instances of breach of covenant.
The Israelites are seeking $4.2 trillion in punitive and compensatory damages.
"My client, the Children of Israel, entered into this covenant with the Defendant in good faith. They were assured, in writing, that in exchange for their exclusive worship of Him, they would be designated His chosen people and, as such, would enjoy His divine protection and guidance for eternity," said Marvin Sachs, the Manhattan attorney bringing the suit on behalf of the Israelites. "Yet, practically from the moment this covenant was signed, the Defendant has exhibited a blatant and willful disregard for its terms."
According to Sachs, the Israelites have not received the protection they were promised in the covenant.
"Despite the presence of numerous 'chosen people' clauses throughout this covenant, my client has suffered countless tragedies over the past 5,000 years, from the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem to the Spanish Inquisition to the Holocaust," Sachs said. "Does that sound like protection to you? Clearly, the Creator had no intention of honoring His legal and binding agreement with us from the start."
Continued Sachs: "The covenant also states that the plaintiff is be entitled to all the lands of the Earth. This, too, has not occurred. Furthermore, it states that the plaintiff will become more numerous than the dust thereof. This has not occurred, either, assuming, of course, that the world contains more than 14 million particles of dust."
Sachs then produced a Torah scroll and said, "I was raised to believe that this is more than just a piece of paper. What about Him?"
Court officers visited the Defendant atop Mount Sinai early this morning, serving Him with papers and setting the legal machinery in motion. Though He has declined comment, lawyers in His employ have already cited multiple points of contention with the Israelite argument, questioning the authenticity of the thousand-year-old hand-inscribed documents and taking issue with the selection of New York, "a city of Israelites," as the trial site.
Kevin Harrigan, chief legal counsel for the Lord, called a press conference Tuesday to read a personal statement from his Client.
"Where was Marvin Sachs when I created the Heavens and the Earth? Where was Marvin Sachs when I laid the cornerstone of creation, and all the morning stars sang together? Can Marvin Sachs bind the influences of the Pleiades and loose the bands of Orion? Can Marvin Sachs call forth the snow or the small rain or the great storm?" the statement read. "He should not be so quick to sit in judgment, he who knows not the ordinances of Heaven nor their dominion of the Earth."
Added Harrigan: "We'll agree to minor malfeasance. The Creator pays you a token $15,000 settlement, plus your filing fees, and we go easy on you."
Despite the Lord's confidence, the Israelites say they have a case.
"For 5,760 years, the plaintiff has honored their side of the contract, worshipping the Defendant with total devotion. But in return, they have gotten bupkes," Sachs said. "They trusted Him to protect them, and He threw them to everyone from the Egyptians to the Cossacks to the Nazis to the Palestinians. I'd have a hard time believing that anyone even remotely familiar with the plaintiff's history would argue that they're not victims of detrimental reliance."
Harrigan responded that God's case is clear under the provisions of New York's commercial code.
"We have yet to determine whether the Jews are arguing for the Covenant of Abraham, which covers homeland and birthright issues, the Davidic Covenant, under which they say they were guaranteed a Messiah, or some combination of the two," Harrigan said. "But one thing is clear: Standard assumptions for any legal contract in this district specifically state that the Defendant is not responsible for acts of God."
Continued Harrigan: "I must also point out that the plaintiff has been given a homeland and offered at least one viable Messiah. If the plaintiff chooses not to accept them for whatever reason, it demonstrates that no meeting of the minds was truly possible and that they acted in bad faith, and the covenant is therefore rendered null and void."
Harrigan went on to note that the Lord has not ruled out filing a breach-of-covenant countersuit against the Israelites, claiming that they "have failed to worship the Lord in an acceptably faithful manner." Among the evidence cited: a 70 percent rise in interfaith marriage among Jews since 1900 and last year's turnout of just 36 percent at worldwide Yom Kippur services.
As of press time, the Israelites were moving forward with their case, undaunted by the fact that the Supreme Deity has never lost a trial.
"My client has been searching for answers for a long time," Sachs said. "And they will continue to search for answers and seek the truth--no matter what the cost in legal fees."
I'm glad we got to visit with my Great Aunt Hazel over the holiday break-- she's now 85 and her health is failing. She's such a neat person, and has led such an interesting life. She never married, but my dad told me that she turned down about six wedding proposals. She and her sister (my grandmother) were army nurses during World War II, and were stationed in Panama and in the Philippines. When my dad's parents divorced, Hazel moved in with her sister to help raise my dad and his sister, so she's more like a parent for my dad and my aunt.
I remember as little children we would go stay with Grandmother and Aunt Hazel for a couple weeks during the summer. Hazel would always get out her Bible right before bed and read a chapter, quietly whispering the words to herself before saying a short prayer and going to sleep. My grandmother slept in a different room, and in the middle of the night would yell in her sleep-- mostly she would be yelling for Hazel, I guess because she was having nightmares.
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