August 6th 1945

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Remembering the one hundred and eighty-thousand who died when the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, August 6th 1945.

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The Diggers’ Song

This is a wonderful version of the 17th Century ballad ‘The Diggers’ Song’, recorded in 1988 by Chumbawamba on their album, ‘English Rebel Songs 1381-1914‘, and re-recorded by them in 2003 for their expanded CD ‘English Rebel Songs 1381-1984‘. It is often confused with a song called ‘The World Turned Upside Down’, composed by Leon Rosselson and recorded in 1986 by Billy Bragg, but they are in fact quite separate songs.

Here are the lyrics to the original song that Chumbawamba were working from:

The Diggers Song
[Probably by Gerard Winstanley, 1640’s]

You noble Diggers all, stand up now, stand up now,
You noble Diggers all, stand up now,
The wast land to maintain, seeing Cavaliers by name
Your digging does maintain, and persons all defame
Stand up now, stand up now.

Your houses they pull down, stand up now, stand up now,
Your houses they pull down, stand up now,
Your houses they pull down to fright your men in town,
But the gentry must come down, and the poor shall wear the crown.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

With spades and hoes and plowes, stand up now, stand up now,
With spades and hoes and plowes stand up now,
Your freedom to uphold, seeing Cavaliers are bold
To kill you if they could, and rights from you to hold.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

Theire self-will is theire law, stand up now, stand up now,
Theire self-will is theire law, stand up now,
Since tyranny came in they count it now no sin
To make a gaole a gin, to sterve poor men therein.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

The gentrye are all round, stand up now, stand up now
The gentrye are all round, stand up now
The gentrye are all round, on each side they are found,
Theire wisdom’s so profound, to cheat us of our ground.
Stand up now, stand up now.

The lawyers they conjoyne, stand up now, stand up now,
The lawyers they conjoyne, stand up now,
To arrest you they advise, such fury they devise
The devil in them lies, and hath blinded both their eyes.
Stand up now, stand up now.

The clergy they come in, stand up now, stand up now,
The clergy they come in, stand up now,
The clergy they come in, and say it is a sin
That we should now begin, our freedom for to win.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

The tithe they yet will have, stand up now, stand up now,
The tithes they yet will have, stand up now,
The tithes they yet will have, and their lawyers their fees crave,
And this they say is brave, to make the poor their slave.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

‘Gainst lawyers and gainst Priests, stand up now, stand up now,
‘Gainst lawyers and gainst Priests, stand up now,
For tyrants they are both even flatt against their oath,
To grant us they are loath free meat and drink and cloth.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

The club is all their law, stand up now, stand up now,
The club is all their law, stand up now,
The club is all their law to keep men in awe,
But they no vision saw to maintain such a law.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

The Cavaleers are foes, stand up now, stand up now,
The Cavaleers are foes, stand up now,
The Cavaleers are foes, themselves they do disclose
By verses not in prose to please the singing boyes.
Stand up now, Diggers all.

To conquer them by love, come in now, come in now,
To conquer them by love, come in now,
To conquer them by love, as itt does you behove,
For hee is King above, noe power is like to love,
Glory heere, Diggers all.

(Source: ‘A Ballad History of England’, by Roy Palmer)

(More about Gerard Winstanley and the Diggers at Wikipedia here)

‘To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea’

Prime Minister Stephen Harper says one of Canada’s greatest mysteries now has been solved, with the discovery of one of the lost ships from Sir John Franklin’s doomed Arctic expedition.

“This is truly a historic moment for Canada,” Harper said. 

At this point, the searchers aren’t sure if they’ve found HMS Erebus or HMS Terror. But sonar images from the waters of Victoria Strait, just off King William Island, clearly show wreckage of a ship on the ocean floor.

Franklin Ship found

A sea floor scan reveals one of the missing ships from the Franklin Expedition in an image released in Ottawa Tuesday. (Parks Canada/Canadian Press)

The wreckage was found on Sept. 7 using a remotely operated underwater vehicle recently acquired by Parks Canada. When Harper revealed the team’s success at Parks Canada’s laboratories in Ottawa Tuesday, the room burst into applause. 

Read the rest here.

‘Ah for just one time I would take the northwest passage,
to find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea,
tracing one warm line through a land so wide and savage,
and make a northwest passage to the sea’.

 – Stan Rogers

The Joy of Teaching Primary Sources

Excellent piece by Ben Myers:

For me, the most rewarding part of teaching is introducing my students to primary sources. Each of my classes involves a lecture period plus an hour of small-group tutorials in which the class works its way through a book that I have chosen. In the books that have come down to us from the past, we have access to Christian minds far more energetic and more accommodating than our own. It is a joy to find yourself in the presence of a mind that you cannot fully comprehend. This has always been one of the chief reasons for studying the humanities at all: to learn that the human spirit is larger and more interesting than one’s own poor spirit, or (this is the political benefit of studying the humanities) than the spirit of the age.

To read books from the past is also to encounter minds with their own prejudices, parochialisms, and blind spots. But students soon discover that they are able to discern these limitations and to address them. Such scholarly discernment is much more difficult (i.e. usually impossible) if one is reading contemporary authors, since in this case the blind spots of the reader and those of the author tend to be identical. (For more on this, see C. S. Lewis’ brilliantly perceptive introduction to Athanasius.) If students are given a book by Moltmann, they will simply absorb it; if they are given Augustine’s Confessions, they will be forced to argue with it. I have seen students walk away from my first-year theology class either infatuated with Augustine or infuriated with him; in both cases I am delighted to see that real learning had occurred. But when students read only contemporary authors – even if they are very good authors – something quite dangerous and enfeebling happens. The students come away feeling neither infatuated nor infuriated but only affirmed. Their own prejudices and parochialisms have been reinforced. Their blind spots have become even blinder.

Read the rest here.

A few years ago I read Augustine’s Confessions for the first time, and experienced exactly what Ben Myers talks about here. Previously I knew Augustine only second-hand, from other people’s summaries of his thought, and my Anabaptist reading had coloured my thinking about him. I saw Augustine as the first apologist for Christendom (fail!), one of the earliest defenders of a Christian just war position (fail!), the one who taught the rather strange view that babies are guilty of the sin of their forebears (and hence need to be baptized to wash away the stain of the original sin) (fail!). But I had not realized what a brilliant thinker Augustine actually was, or the depth of his spiritual insights into the human condition.

Reading the Confessions forced me to grapple with Augustine himself, not other people’s ideas about him, and I am grateful. I’ve had this experience with other old authors too – and not just Christians. Boethius’ The Consolations of Philosophy, Thomas a Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ, Homer’s Odyssey and Iliad, Virgil’s Aeneid, Dante’s Inferno, Plato’s The Last Days of Socrates, John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, St. John Chrysostom’s On Wealth and Povertyand the writings of the Apostolic Fathers.

Reading Myer’s piece has reminded me of the importance of this sort of reading. I have a few other books on my shelves that I want to read or re-read: Athanasius’ On the Incarnation of the Son of God, Thomas Cranmer’s A Defence of the True and Catholick Doctrine of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of our Saviour Jesus Christ, Bernard of Clairvaux’s On the Love of God, Julian of Norwich’s Revelations of Divine Love, John Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion (the shorter 1541 version, not the voluminous 1559 version, which I’ve tried and failed to finish!), St. Francis de Sales Introduction to the Devout Life, William Wilberforce’s Practical View, The Writings of Pilgram Marpeck, and Peter Riedemann’s Confession of Faith.

Which old authors have you read that have challenged and enriched your thinking?

The Inconvenient Indian

51OX2YxnugLI don’t known enough about the history to be able to say whether Thomas King’s book ‘The Inconvenient Indian: a Curious Account of Native People in North America‘ is strictly accurate. He certainly makes no claim to be strictly unbiased; he is a First Nations person (or, as he is happy to say, an ‘Indian’), and he is telling the story from that viewpoint.

I can report, however, that it is witty, provocative, challenging, and at times deeply discouraging. It is also a very worthwhile read.

Here’s the blurb from Amazon:

The Inconvenient Indian is at once a “history” and the complete subversion of a history—in short, a critical and personal meditation that the remarkable Thomas King has conducted over the past 50 years about what it means to be “Indian” in North America. 
 
Rich with dark and light, pain and magic, this book distills the insights gleaned from that meditation, weaving the curiously circular tale of the relationship between non-Natives and Natives in the centuries since the two first encountered each other. In the process, King refashions old stories about historical events and figures, takes a sideways look at film and pop culture, relates his own complex experiences with activism, and articulates a deep and revolutionary understanding of the cumulative effects of ever-shifting laws and treaties on Native peoples and lands. 
 
This is a book both timeless and timely, burnished with anger but tempered by wit, and ultimately a hard-won offering of hope — a sometimes inconvenient, but nonetheless indispensable account for all of us, Indian and non-Indian alike, seeking to understand how we might tell a new story for the future.

I highly recommend it And while we’re talking about Thomas King, don’t forget that you can currently listen to the first season of his CBC ‘Dead Dog Café Comedy Hour‘ radio show on YouTube. Do!

Places I’ve lived

I was born in Leicester, England, in 1958. When I was very small we lived in Woodland Road; we lived on the corner at number 1, and then a bit later we moved next door to number 3. My Taylor grandparents lived across the road at number 8, and my great-grandpa Sam Reynolds lived at number 20. Here’s a recent shot of Woodland Road, taken in December 2011. When I lived there no one had a car.

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This is the house we lived in, at number 3 (with the white wall):

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In 1965 my Dad was ordained, and we moved out to Leicester Forest East where he served for a couple of years as a curate (assistant minister). Here’s the street we lived on, Kirloe Avenue:

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In September 1967 we left England and went all the way to the wilds of the Canadian Arctic, where my Dad served for one year as missionary in charge of St. George’s Anglican Mission, Cambridge Bay. When we lived there it was a community of about 600 people. Today it is much bigger. Here’s a recent shot.

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We returned to England in October of 1968, and my Dad served his second curacy at St. Thomas’ Church, Lytham St. Anne’s, Lancashire. Here’s an old photo from 1968 of St. Anne’s pier; that was about the time we lived there.

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We lived in Lightburne Avenue, in a house a bit like this (we were at number 16; this is next door, at number 18):

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In December 1969 we settled down for a few years, as my Dad was appointed vicar of St. Leonard’s, Southminster, Essex; the next six years were very happy ones for me, as I made good friends, learned to play guitar, and became a committed Christian. Here’s a recent picture of Burnham Road in Southminster, looking north toward the High Street:

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When we first moved to Southminster we lived in a big old vicarage dating back to the 18th century; it was set in the middle of a field (nowadays it is totally surrounded by houses). Here it is:

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After a few months, however, we moved into a brand new vicarage where we lived for the next five years or so, from 1970-75. This is a photo of that vicarage taken in 1987 (these days it’s surrounded by houses too!):

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In December 1975 we were on the move again, as my Dad accepted an appointment as rector of St. Alban’s Anglican Church, Ashcroft, B.C. This picture of the rectory (with Dad and Mum and me) was taken in 1977 I believe.

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I left home in September of 1976 and spent the next two years at the Church Army Training College, 397 Brunswick Avenue, Toronto.

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After I finished my training in 1978 I was posted to Angus, Ontario where I spent a year trying to plant a church (a job, alas, I’d never been trained to do!). I don’t have a photo of the tiny rented house I lived in, but here’s an aerial view of the town.

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While I was there I met a wonderful young woman, and in October 1979 we were married. A week later we packed our VW Beetle and drove west to Arborfield, Saskatchewan, where I spent the next five years serving the Anglican churches and communities of Arborfield, Red Earth, and Shoal Lake. Here’s a shot of Arborfield, taken from the west. You see the grain elevator? That’s where the town is:

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My normal Sunday in my Arborfield days included three services and 150 miles of driving, about half of it in gravel. Here’s the little church at the Red Earth First Nation (which has since been replaced):

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And here’s the house we lived in, in Arborfield:

Arborfield 1

In August of 1984, after five years in Arborfield, Marci and I headed north to the Arctic with the two children who had been born to us in Saskatchewan, Sarah and Matthew. We spent four years, 1984-88, in Aklavik in the Mackenzie Delta. Here’s Aklavik:

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And here’s the church and mission house:

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In the summer of 1988 we (the four of us, plus Jacqui who had been born while we lived in Aklavik) moved even further north, to Holman (now called Ulukhaktok), where I believe I was the third most northerly Anglican minister in the world. Here’s Holman:

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And here’s our mission house:

Mission House

In the summer of 1991, after seven years in the Arctic, the six of us (Nick had been born while we lived in Holman) moved to Valleyview, Alberta, where for the next eight and a half years I would be the rector of the Anglican churches in Valleyview, Fox Creek, Goodwin, and New Fish Creek.  More long Sunday drives (it’s 50 miles from Valleyview to Fox Creek, and 32 from Valleyview to Goodwin)! Here’s our rectory in Valleyview:

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And here’s St. Anne’s Church, right beside the rectory:

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We lived in Valleyview from September 1991 to January 2000, when we made our final move (to date!) to the city of Edmonton, where I became the rector of St. Margaret’s Church. We have now lived here for thirteen and a half years. I don’t appear to have a good photo of our house, but here’s the church:

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And here’s a nice shot of our city centre skyline (several miles from where we live!):

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