In case you're short on things to read

Eric ponders Animality and the Word of God: where to draw the boundaries between human and non-human animals and what the theological import of that relationship is. He also posts one of my favourite T. S. Eliot poems, which happens to be relevant to the discussion.

Kevin highlights the real problem with genetically modified (GM) food. It's not that it might be poisonous to our bodies, but that it is toxic to our body politic.

Dana offers a a case study in scientific integrity. Though this is his first foray into the Guardian, I've read quite a bit of Dana's writing and he knows what he's talking about (he's also now posted a further analysis of the replies to his Guardian piece). RealClimate recently published a piece with a similar theme but taking an example from a very different field.

Richard wonders whether individual action is pointless, given the scale of the challenges we face. His answer: our actions may not make a difference, but our example might. An excellent paper going into much more detail on the inadequacy of merely personal lifestyle changes can be found here.
H/T Chris Taylor.

Mongabay asks "What's so wrong with palm oil?", and answers in great detail.

Greenfyre wonders what if there had been no BP oil spill? He offers a perspective which was later mirrored by The Onion: ensuring that all the oil reaches its desired destinations is also an ongoing catastrophe of an even larger scale.

And Jeremy compares our present need for rapid and radical social change with what was achieved in the UK during WWII:

"There is no underestimating the scale and pace of change that happened during the war. Coal use dropped by a quarter, general consumption fell by 16%, car use dropped 95%. Sacrifices were made, but as people ate less and often ate better, levels of health and fitness rose accordingly. Infant mortality and the suicide rate fell, and spending on entertainment was one of the few areas that grew."

See also this piece by Caroline Lucas MP.

Ash Wednesday

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

- T. S. Eliot, from Ash Wednesday.

Remember, mortal, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Repent and believe the good news.

Stealing sermons?

Immature poets immitate. Mature poets steal.

- T. S. Eliot, "The Sacred Wood"

Every artist is a cannibal.
Every poet is a thief.
All kill their inspiration,
Then sing about their grief.

- Bono, The Fly

Do you think there is anything wrong with preaching a sermon that someone else wrote? What about preaching a famous historical sermon (perhaps giving a little context where necessary)? In both cases, I am assuming the preacher gives due credit.*
*Though even this concession makes me wonder how much preaching is about building a reputation.

Eliot on memory

And last, the rending pain of re-enactment
Of all that you have done, and been; the shame
Of motives late revealed, and the awareness
Of things ill done and done to others' harm
Which once you took for exercise of virtue.

- T. S. Eliot, Little Gidding II.138-42.

An act of harm done with good intentions is still an act of harm. This too, is part of the human condition: the inability to secure our desires through our limited capacity for action. And so all our actions must be committed to God in hope and open to repentance.

The nature of love II

Reflections on 1 Corinthians 13.4-5
Love is patient; love is kind. Or better, since these are verbs in the Greek: Love waits patiently; love shows kindness. Patience and kindness are what God does, according to Paul in Romans 2.4. Whenever love meets broken people like us, it’s going to need patience and kindness. This is part of the beautiful realism of the Bible. There’s no pretence that we’ll all get along fine, that we’ll never hurt each other, that there won’t be misunderstandings. And so we need patience and kindness. Patient love puts up with disappointment and frustration. It knows when to keep its mouth shut and arms open, even after having been let down before. Love shows kindness - is friendly, generous, considerate. Love has the ability to look at someone else and see that they too are fundamentally human: made by God, scarred by mistakes and abuses, with similar fears, similar needs, similar vulnerabilities. If you are kind, you bring joy to people, alleviate pain. To be in your company makes others more alive, not more burdened.

Love does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. When humans live close together and see themselves in competition, these are what happen: envy, boasting, pride. We look at someone else and wish we had their opportunities, their gifts, their friends, their partner. He’s got my dreams and my hate him, especially if he’s good at the same areas I’d like to be good at. She succeeds and I resent it. Love does not envy. It is content with what it has received from God and rejoices at his generosity to others.

Love does not boast. Of course, I never do anything so crude as boast. I’m much more subtle. I just tell stories about myself, that happen to highlight my better sides, my more impressive achievements, even those achievements which strictly speaking, aren’t quite true yet. I want to be treated with respect, yet fear I won’t, and so make sure that people have every reason to know how much money I’m making, or how I don’t care that I’m not making much money because I’m not shallow.

Of course, there is a way of being honest about even our strengths with sober judgement that isn’t boasting. The solution is not to beat myself up and convince myself I'm no good, or put on a show of false humility. These too can become forms of self-obsession. Nor is the answer to cut myself off from other people, to only ever show a mask, put up walls around heart so no one can touch me.

The solution is the slow and painful process of learning just how deeply God loves us, how safe I am in his care, how even if the world crucifies me, he can raise the dead. Once we begin to get a handle on the God’s boundless love, we can gradually take down the protective walls and live lives of self-forgetfulness, pouring ourselves out for others the way Jesus poured himself out for us.

Love is not rude. I don’t get to be a jerk, to act inappropriately because I feel like it. And I don’t get to define what is rude. I need to find out what you think is rude. I can’t just say “that’s who I am, live with it”. If I hurt or anger someone, I need to find out why and possibly learn how to change. It’s not about me. But what if someone has been rude to me? Love is not touchy, hyper-sensitive, thin-skinned. It’s not about me. Of course, I may sensitively and gently discuss in private with the person who hurt me why their action caused me pain, but I do so with a heart that is quick to forgive, and that will keep no record of the wrong. I refuse to let myself be burdened by every wrong I’ve endured, every insult I’ve received, every grief I’ve suffered. We forgive as we have been forgiven by God: completely, repeatedly, freely.
Various thoughts and occasional phrases for elements in this section of the sermon were shamelessly stolen from a sermon by Ian Powell at Barneys in 2005. "Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal." - T. S. Eliot.
Ten points for guessing the city in this image. Twenty for naming the building.