One of the best parts of having kids is getting to revisit iconic cartoons from my childhood.
One of little dude’s favorites is the Three Little Pigs Silly Symphony:
Good cartoons always have a little something for the watching adults. In this case, the source of amusement lies in the rather politically incorrect family photos.
Mom is what you might expect:
But here’s dad:
And dad again:
Dad for dinner, anyone?
For those who know me only from such online venues as my blog and blog comments, my name poses a bit of a mystery–an enigma wrapped in a Twinkie, if you will. What do these letters mean? What does he go by? Shall we call him “JR”? “JRDK”? “JERK”?
I want to take this opportunity to clear the fog, step by step. Welcome to this “get to know you” episode of Storied Theology.
First, although my name ofttimes appears as “J. R. Daniel Kirk,” the reason for this is not that I go by J. R. To the contrary, the reason is that I go by “Daniel,” and therefore abbreviate my superfluous names.
What others do with their middle initials I must do with my first. It is my cross to bear.
Second, my name begins with a superfluous J for the following reason: My parents loved Pentateuchal source criticism and became enamored of the Jahwist’s understanding of Israel’s relationship to God. Every man in my family has the same first name: James.
And by everyone, I mean: My grandfather (Jim), his two sons (J. Thomas and J. Robert), my brother and I, my son and my nephew. But when one has the same name as everyone else, one cannot very well go by it, can one?
Third, then, I have the superfluous R. My dad’s name (see previous paragraph) is James Robert. I got named after dad. But then, one does not want two persons in the same house fighting over the same name, does one?
Thus, fourth, my parents bestowed upon me the name Daniel, foreseeing in a prescient moment that I would need a perennial and persistent reminder that God is my judge, since I have never seemed capable of listening to anyone else.
Fifth: please note that my name is Daniel. This has two syllables. This mystery is great, but I am speaking about being addressed by both of them. I am not Dan. Nor am I Danny.
Sixth, you might be asking yourself, why do I flout my superfluous letters rather than simply allowing “Daniel Kirk” to stand and clarify all potential misunderstandings?
To this there are two answers.
First, from my early love of J.R.R. Tolkein, C. S. Lewis, yes, J. I. Packer, and my later respect for N. T. Wright (time would fail me to speak of F. F. Bruce or E. P. Sanders)–I simply realized from the world around me that superfluous letters are absolutely sine qua non for an enduring legacy in the world of theological writing.
Second, well, let’s just say that it helps minimize the number of thank-you notes I get from grateful parents. Honestly, I’ve only gotten one, and it made me somewhat horrified for the poor lad who had done his fifth grade book report on my book.
I’ve been after this guy for weeks. And look at him now.
Asleep.
Taunting me in plain sight.
Oh, mouse, you’re playin’ with death.
UPDATE:
For all my death-wielding words, I am a softie at heart. With minor injuries, the fuzz ball was caught and released. No doubt, the local hawk will be eating well this afternoon.
You moderate enforcer and eulogizer of moderation. You are one of those bloody and deceitful people who affect modesty in words and appearance, but who meanwhile breathe out threats and blood. (Luther, “Against Latomus,” Luther’s Works, 32, p. 142)
That is how I was insulted by Luther today.
Indeed, there is a seemingly endless supply of Luther insults, ready to hand. All you need to is head on over to Lutheran Insulter.
If you think you can take it, go ahead and click “Insult me again.” Luther has plenty to unleash!
Enjoy.
(Note: this is for entertainment purposes only. Any other use of the site is strictly prohibited.)
Today, I put forward three great mysteries. I claim no truth or insight or revelation. I merely offer a thought for your consideration. Actually, three thoughts. And I want to know what you think.
Mystery Number 1
It is widely celebrated these days that the proper method for measuring coffee is by weight.
Image: zirconicusso / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Thus, each day I measure out 20 grams of coffee for my single-cup, hand-poured morning ritual, ere I throw said beans into the burr grinder which has been carefully calibrated to grind just the right sized beans for my #2 cone filter.
However, coffee bean weight is determined, to no little extent, by the water naturally present in the bean. When you roast a coffee bean, one effect of the roasting process is that the bean dries out.
The longer you roast the bean, the drier–and therefore lighter!–the bean becomes.
This means that the darker your roast, the greater volume of beans necessary to add up to the same weight.
You following all this?
This means, that if you’re weighing your coffee, you will use more beans to make the same amount of coffee when those beans are darker and stronger to begin with–the very time you might think of backing off the volume in order to produce a well balanced cup of coffee.
So here’s the question: should we, in fact, measure coffee by volume rather than weight in order to produce more consistent coffee? Or, alternatively, should we vary the weight of coffee such that fewer grams are in play for darker roasts and more for lighter roasts?
Mystery Number 2
Do you find that your emotions run on a spectrum from good to bad? or on a parabola of intensity from high to low?
The way we normally talk about emotions is, I think, on a spectrum from good to bad: I’m so excited nothing could bring me down! and the like.
But I see in myself and certain little people I’m around regularly that emotions are often more like a parabola: there is an “up” of intensity that can one minute be excitement, another utter frustration.
Image: Mr. Pi
The slide isn’t from up to down, but a move from the “up” that we experience positively to the “upward intensity” of negative emotion. The “downward slide” from intense expectation to bitter disappointment isn’t a downward slide so much as it is a horizontal move from really intense eagerness to really intense disappointment.
Kids melting down on Christmas morning isn’t a crash so much as it’s a maintenance of the intensity without a positive direction to channel it.
Thoughts?
Mystery Number 3
How does a ballet bun with this much awesomeness end up falling out into a ponytail two minutes later?
These are great mysteries, my friends. Together, I think we can work them out.
What say you?
I’m not normally one who gives much thought, time, energy, or money to augmenting his wardrobe. Over the past year, however, I have found two exceptional pieces of clothing that demanded purchase.
Both are t-shirts.
First, in honor of my breakfast making, E’s obsession with, and Halloween dressing, as Darth Vader, together with E’s choice of an “I am your father” Father’s Day card, there was this:
Then, in honor of… well.. my singular focus when it comes to music, there was this:
I commend them both for your consideration, and for your further insight into the man behind the blog.
Enjoy.
So with this being the week of “If you can’t have the Bible you love, maybe you should try Loving the Bible you have,” as noted over at Unsettled Christianity, I thought that an apropos theme song for Bible lovers this winter might be the following from Stephen Stills:
As those of you who are attentive to my Facebook or Twitter feeds already know, a new word has entered the English language this week.
The word is peliculate.
peliculate. verb. intransitive. to watch a movie. (from the Spanish, película: movie)
Why introduce another word into the English language? Because we have no elegant verb for watching movies.
Consider, for example, the song lyric, “Won’t you Charleston with me?” Note how seamlessly we could sing, “Won’t you peliculate with me?” whereas, “Won’t you watch a movie with me,” is entirely too clunky.
And although movie revenue might be down, most of us still peliculate on a regular basis, and peliculation remains an important dynamic in current American culture.
So please, let’s adopt this neologism as a salutary addition to our vocabularies. I don’t know about you, but after a long week there’s little I like better than crashing with the wife for a little peliculation.
Since my somewhat iconoclastic Trinity post from Thursday ruffled a feather or two, I figured that I would move into a post that has a little something for everyone today.
You see, at heart I want everyone to have something to grab onto that really works for them. And so, to celebrate this everyman spirit that I hope will define Storied Theology, here is a celebration of “something for everyone.”
First, for those of you with a sweet tooth, or who are theologically committed to the vision of a land flowing with honey, we have a celebration of mead:
Land Flowing with Milk and Honey Mead
But I realize that on the other side of the spectrum, many of you are simply not going to be happy with anything you can see through. In the slightest. But this doesn’t mean that your life is filled with bitterness, no matter how dark things might be. So for you, a celebration of chocolate oatmeal stout:
Man of the Cloth Choc-Oat-Chip Stout
Still others of you celebrate neither honey nor chocolate but rather the natural fruits of the earth. And so, with all its citrus overtones and the copper color of that is Americana, behold the celebration of the American Pale Ale:
Nipples of Mary Pale Ale
But I understand that still others need to remember that God is at the center of all things. In honor of the life devoted to God, we remember how our brethren in the abbey devoted themselves to cultivating the good gifts of the earth. And so, the Belgian Abbey style dopple red:
Stigmata Abbey Red
Bitterness and gall defines not a few of my loyal readers. And it would be remiss of me not to celebrate your place in the body as well. Wife put a heart on top to underscore that the heart is as bitter as the IPA:
Bitternes and Gall IPA
Finally, there are those of you whose high Christology is only going to be honored by a beer named after the eternal Logos himself. And so, the beer whose name we might imagine is so derived. Behold the Lager!
Not-So-Eternal Logos Lager
The point, as I hope you have noticed by now, is that at heart my desire is that we all find something to celebrate together. I realize that the body had many members, and all do not offer the same things, nor do all receive the same things. And so, a celebration of a little something for everyone. Let’s not bicker and argue.
But just in case these creations of mine have left you still wanting more, I have one other creation lying around the house that we can all enjoy, whatever we might drink alongside of it.
Some songs leave their mark because of their beauty, some simply haunt us. For no good reason. Like, it’s not even a good song.
When my family lived in Spain, the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service (affectionately called “A-FaRTS” in the Kirk house) was one of the syndicates for the Dr. Demento radio show. It was a weekly show where you could hear great stuff like Weird Al Yankovic songs, “Dead Puppies,” “Fish Heads,” and the like.
The very first time we discovered the program, my mom had turned on the radio just in time to catch the last half of a song whose only line I remembered was, “Forty shots rang out, and forty people fell; yeah they had missed each other but they shot that town to Hell.” I also recalled that the protagonist was named Cow Patty.
I’d thought about that song off and on over the past 25 years. But I never heard it again. I searched for it online a few times, but to no avail.
Until today.
That song that, by introducing me to Dr. Demento, helped cement in my mind the eternal value of changing the lyrics of songs, and of song as a means of loving mockery, I heard today for just the second time ever, and for the first time in its entirety. And here, I share it with you.
You’re welcome.
Now tell me, wasn’t that one worth waiting a quarter of a century for? In fact, I might wait another quarter century before I listen to it again…
